Tag: Early Spring

The Mallard Ducks of Early Spring

Discover the secret world of mallards in Ithaca’s Cass Park: a drake and hen dance upon the water’s surface, inviting you into the fleeting magic of a vernal pool. Join their springtime sojourn.

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Introduction to Vernal Pools and Mallard Ducks


The image provided offers a tranquil glimpse into the natural world, capturing two mallard ducks—a drake and a hen—as they forage for food in a vernal pool. Vernal pools are temporary bodies of water that provide critical habitat for a variety of wildlife during the early spring. Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), with their iconic coloration and widespread presence across the globe, are among the most recognizable and adaptable of waterfowl, making use of these ephemeral waterscapes.

Birding Trail near Cass Park, a pair of Mallard ducks in breeding plumage feed in a vernal pool the inlet of Cayuga Lake in the background.

Significance of Vernal Pools


Vernal pools are unique wetlands that usually form in the spring from melting snow and spring rainfall. These pools are crucial for the breeding of certain species of amphibians, insects, and provide essential resources for birds like mallards. In the image, the ducks take advantage of the abundance of food such as aquatic invertebrates that thrive in these undisturbed waters, showcasing the importance of these habitats in supporting biodiversity.

A Closer Look at the Mallards’ Habitat

A male and female mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) feeding in a vernal pool along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail near Union Fields.


The photo depicts the ducks in a natural setting that speaks volumes about their environment. The surrounding dry grasses indicate a transition from the dormancy of winter to the burgeoning life of spring. The reflection of leafless trees in the water hints at an ecosystem on the cusp of renewal. This setting is not only a feeding ground for the ducks but also a haven that provides shelter and protection from predators.

The Mallards’ Spring Behavior


Mallards are known for their migratory patterns, often traveling to warmer climates during the winter and returning to their breeding grounds in the spring. The ducks in the photo are likely partaking in a crucial phase of their life cycle—feeding and preparing for the breeding season ahead. Their presence in the vernal pool is a testament to their resilience and adaptability as they utilize a wide range of habitats to meet their needs.

Conservation and the Future


While mallard ducks are not currently endangered, the conservation of their habitats, like vernal pools, is vital for the continued health of their populations and the greater ecosystem. Such habitats are under threat from urban development, pollution, and climate change. It’s imperative that we recognize the importance of preserving these natural resources, not only for mallards but for all species that depend on them.

Conclusion: Reflections on Nature’s Cycles


The photo invites reflection on the cycles of nature and the interconnectedness of species and their environments. It serves as a reminder that the arrival of mallards at a vernal pool is not just a sign of spring, but a marker of the health of our natural world. As the seasons change, so too do the opportunities for life to thrive, guided by the rhythms of the Earth and the behaviors of its inhabitants. The mallards, in their simple act of feeding, become symbols of continuity and the delicate balance of ecosystems.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Icicles hang over Fish Kill

Of Rocks and Seeps

Step into an early spring morning where sudden frosts adorn the Waterfall by the Old Mill with fleeting icicles, capturing nature’s delicate balance between freeze and thaw.

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New icicles formed overnight from seeps through the sedimentary walls around the Waterfall by the Old Mill. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment.

Here icicles formed during the quick April freeze hand above Fish Kill. Kill is an old Dutch word for creek.

Click photograph for a larger view. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.
Sedimentary Walls
Sedimentary Walls

Here a mix of frost and lichen mottle the rock layers.

Icicles hang over Fish Kill

These shots were hand held. I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.

Robert H. Treman New York State Park.

Click for a slideshow of this Waterfall of the Old Mill sequence
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Place where Fish Kill was harnessed to power the Old Mill
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Sedimentary Walls
Icicles hang over Fish Kill
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Falls by the Old Mill, early spring

Three Views, Falls of the Old Mill

Join me on a frost-kissed journey along the Rim Trail, capturing the transient beauty of falls freed from winter’s grip, where nature’s power remains untamed and vividly alive.

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A day the falls run free of ice. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment. Here are three captures of the same waterfall, the first visitors to the upper park encounter and the most visited and photographed right off the parking area.

Fish Kill was captured at this point to provide power to grind grain. Today neither nature nor man control the flow. Kill is the old Dutch word for creek.

Click photograph for a larger view. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring

I have never counted the waterfalls from this one to the grand sweep of lower falls. The falls are uncountable because no two people could agree on how small a fall to credit.

Place where Fish Kill was harnessed to power the Old Mill

Of these three versions, i prefer this one for the foreground inclusion of the enormous limestone blocks set to protect visitors from the drop. This scene is challenging photographically, bifurcated as it is by the bright sun over the fall brink. I prefer to shoot these falls early morning, for this reason, before the sun illuminates the area at all. Long exposures required demand a rock solid tripod, as it is just off the parking lot I use my studio Manfrotto for the work. Here all shots were handheld.

I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.

Falls by the Old Mill, early spring

Robert H. Treman New York State Park.

Click for a slideshow of this sequence of the Waterfall of the Old Mill
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Place where Fish Kill was harnessed to power the Old Mill
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Nesting Chronicles: The Life of A Cayuga Lake Osprey

Imagine you’re soaring with ospreys over Cayuga’s shimmering waters, preparing the nest, embracing the ritual of spring—a majestic cycle of life awaits you.

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As the first warm breezes of early spring ruffle the chilled waters at the south end of Cayuga Lake, anticipation rises in me. I am a female Osprey, returning alone from far to the south along the old sky-roads. We do not migrate as a pair; my mate often reaches the nest ahead of me to reclaim the site and begin repairs. Still, this is the place we claim again, season after season.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park. Cayuga Lake in the distance.

On arrival I wheel high above the shoreline, searching for the platform we left to winter. There it stands—the tall sentinel above the lake. He is there, too, calling once as he lifts, and the rim already shows the first fresh sticks of the year. Against the bright sky the nest looks rough-hewn, yet every branch lies to a purpose.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

As I settled onto the platform, tthe familiar tilt of the timbers and the dry rattle of last year’s sticks steady me. I meticulously inspected our creation, the repository of our hopes and future lineage. My mate and I ferry fresh twigs and weeds, wedging them into the rim and lacing the walls tight against the spring winds.

In due time, beneath the sheltering rim, I laid a small clutch of mottled eggs—the culmination of our bond, the promise of continuity. Through the weeks that follow I keep them warm and dry, turning them with my beak and settling the heat of my breast upon them. My mate does the heavy work of provision—fish after fish to the rail—and stands guard, calling when intruders drift close. Now and then he eases onto the eggs while I feed, but the watching and warming are chiefly mine.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

The world around us burgeoned with life. The lake’s surface now rippled with the activity of fish – a bounty for our growing family. Days turned into weeks, and our vigilance was rewarded as the first cracks appeared in the eggs. The chicks emerged, delicate yet voracious, their mouths agape for the nourishment we unceasingly provide.

Click Me for another Osprey Post

Thank you Candace E. Cornell of the Cayuga Lake Osprey Network for your helpful advice.

For further information: —–Poole, Alan F. ; 2019, “Ospreys: The Revival of a Global Raptor”; Johns Hopkins University Press —Mackrill, Tim; 2024; “The Osprey”; Bloomsbury Publishing

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Tuxedos on Tour: Three Majestic Mergansers

Join the escapade as you witness three majestic Mergansers, donning nature’s finest tuxedos, in a graceful ballet on the springtime stage of Cayuga Lake.

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As you gaze upon these three fine feathered fellows, all members of the exclusive Common Merganser men’s club, they seem to glide upon the watery stage of Cayuga Lake with all the confidence of Broadway stars on opening night. They are the aquatic equivalent of a sharply dressed barbershop quartet, minus one, in their matching tuxedos, ready to sing the springtime serenade of their species.

The chap at the forefront is Captain Black-Crest, sporting a glossy noggin that shimmers with an inner light, undoubtedly the envy of every duck on the pond. He’s streamlined and debonair, with a white body that’s as crisp as the first snowfall and a dark back that’s as sleek as a shadow in moonlight. If ducks had monocles and top hats, he’d be first in line.

In the middle, there’s Sir Dapper-Diver, a mirror image of his companion, with a neck as white as the driven snow and a dignified black back that gleams like polished onyx in the dappled sunlight. He’s the quiet achiever of the group, poised and ready to make the plunge into the depths below, proving that style need not be sacrificed for substance.

And to the right, meet Admiral Feather-Finesse. His poise on the water suggests a mastery of the waves, a commander of the current. He carries his elegant attire with an air of grace that only comes with a natural pedigree. In synchronized perfection, he and his brethren form a regatta of refinement, a display of nature’s own black-tie affair.

These are male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) in breeding plumage, characterized the body white with a variable salmon-pink tinge, the head black with an iridescent green gloss, the rump and tail grey, and the wings largely white on the inner half, black on the outer half. Like the other mergansers, these piscivorous ducks have serrated edges to their bills to help them grip their prey, so they are often known as “sawbills”. In addition to fish, they take a wide range of other aquatic prey, such as molluscs, crustaceans, worms, insect larvae, and amphibians; more rarely, small mammals and birds may be taken. As in other birds with the character, the salmon-pink tinge shown variably by males is probably diet-related, obtained from the carotenoid pigments present in some crustaceans and fish. When not diving for food, they are usually seen swimming on the water surface, or resting on rocks in midstream or hidden among riverbank vegetation, or (in winter) on the edge of floating ice.

Together, these three Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser) in their prime are a trifecta of elegance, a testament to the timeless beauty found in nature’s simplicity. They paddle forth with purpose, their matching plumage a striking contrast to the rippling blues and grays of the water, a parade of poise and plumage that delights the observant eye.

So, dear reader, as you observe this photo, take a moment to appreciate the charming uniformity and the subtle quirks that make each bird, despite their shared wardrobe, uniquely magnificent. It’s a snapshot of life at its most graceful, a picture worth far more than a mere thousand words.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

A Path Lined with Promise: Spring’s Embrace in Ithaca

Happy April 1, 2024

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You find yourself on the cusp of spring, the earth slowly awakens from its wintery slumber, and life begins to stir in the subtlest of forms. Imagine strolling through a park in Ithaca, the evidence of spring’s tender handiwork unfolding before your eyes. As you traverse this liminal space where the grey of winter meets the vibrant hues of spring, you are greeted by a cheerful brigade of daffodils, a sure harbinger of warmer days.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

Through the above image, it’s as though you are leaning in, your gaze just inches above the blooms. These daffodils are not merely flowers; they are the golden trumpets of spring, each one a burst of joy amidst the still-dormant earth. You can almost feel the softness of the petals, the coolness of the air, and the promise of renewal that each bud encapsulates. With their faces eager to bask in the strengthening sun, they seem to resonate with your own readiness for change, for the fresh possibilities that each new season brings.

As you stand up and take a few steps back, the following image grants you a wider perspective. Here lies a path, winding gently alongside a burgeoning line of daffodils. They stand in unity, a vivid yellow line drawn against the canvas of awakening green. The bench in the distance is vacant, an invitation to sit and appreciate the tranquility of Cass Park, the expanse of water beyond serving as a mirror to the open sky. It’s a scene that calls for contemplation, urging you to appreciate the simplicity of the moment, the serenity of nature’s process.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park. Here the trail has passed over Linderman Creek and we are looking toward the Cayuga Lake inlet. Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

These photographs are more than visual delights; they’re sensory experiences. Can you hear the subtle sounds of the park? The distant call of birds returning home, the soft rustle of grass stirred by a gentle breeze, the hushed murmur of water lapping at the shore? Each sound is a note in the symphony of spring, played just for you.

The images you see are not frozen in time; they carry within them a narrative of life’s perseverance. The daffodils, with their bright faces and sturdy stems, have weathered the cold, the snow, and the frost. They emerge, not just as survivors of winter, but as its conquerors. Each flower is a testament to resilience, a living metaphor for the human spirit that you, too, possess.

This is the season of rejuvenation, where the old is shed, and the new embraced. With each day, the sun lingers a bit longer, casting its golden glow upon the earth. It’s the time to set aside the grayness of yesterday and look forward to the spectrum of tomorrow. The photographs are not just to be viewed; they are to be felt, to remind you that no winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn.

As you walk away from this scene, you carry with you the warmth of the sun and the cheer of the daffodils. Let the images serve as a reminder of the perennial cycle of life, the undying hope, and the enduring beauty that awaits just outside your door. Feel encouraged to seek these moments, these fragments of beauty, in your everyday wanderings, and hold onto the message of the daffodils: after every winter, no matter how harsh, comes the gentle kiss of spring.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Nature’s First Green….

…is gold, / her hardest hue to hold, / her early leaf’s a flower; / but only so an hour… Robert Frost

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You walk alone by the waters of Cayuga Lake in Stewart Park, nestled in the heart of Ithaca’s Finger Lakes, where Salix alba, the white willow, stands proudly along the shoreline. You’re immediately drawn to the flurry of yellow flowers, a stark contrast to the still chilly early March air.

The white willow (Salix alba), with its rough, gray bark, is beginning to dress in its spring finery, its branches teeming with tiny, starburst-like flowers. Each one is a miniature sun, casting a glow against the intricate lattice of branches. These aren’t the soft catkins of the pussy willow but the yellow inflorescences that are characteristic of the white willow’s early bloom, a signpost that winter’s grip is loosening.

These trees, you learn, are dioecious, with separate male and female trees. The blossoms you see are likely the male flowers, their stamens dusting your fingers with pollen as you brush against them. It’s this pollen that will soon beckon the bees, urging them to emerge from their hives and begin the work that sustains the ecosystem. You can almost hear the faint buzz, a prelude to the symphony of life that summer will bring. Return in midsummer to find the female catkins comprise numerous small (4 mm) capsules, each containing numerous minute seeds embedded in silky white hairs, which aids wind dispersal.

As you wander further, you note the presence of the white willow’s kin, other deciduous companions some still bare and stretching into the sky and others leafing out. You stand there, at the cusp of seasonal change, where the slumbering trees are on the verge of awakening, and you feel a kinship with them. Like these trees, you have weathered the cold, dark months, and now you stand poised to greet the renewal that comes with spring.

The stark, knotted forms of the white willow branches against the clear sky speak to you of endurance and resilience. These trees have weathered storms and droughts; they have been companions to the lake, mirrors to its moods, and now they are beginning to celebrate the cycle of rebirth and growth.

You take a seat on a bench, the cool wood through your clothes a reminder of the lingering winter. You gaze out across the lake, the water reflecting the brilliance of the sun like a vast, rippling mirror, framed by the elegant silhouettes of the white willows. You feel the peace of the park seep into you, the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water syncing with your breath.

This is a moment of transition, from the sleeping to the awakening world. You think about the Salix alba, how its presence here is a testament to nature’s adaptability, thriving in the moist soil by the lake, offering shade in summer and shelter in winter, its branches a playground for the winds.

As you leave Stewart Park, you take with you the memory of the white willows in early March, the quiet guardians of Cayuga Lake. They remind you of the enduring beauty of nature, the seamless flow from one season to the next, and the quiet joy of standing witness to the first whispers of spring on the shores of the Finger Lakes.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Wildflowers Late Winter / Early Spring 2

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With the thermometer in the 60’s on March 10, 2020 the “buttercups” of yesterday are open. When we first moved here, the plants were much thinner. I used fertilizer spikes on the Magnolia tree around which they grow. Each early the flowers pollinate, forming seeds and spreading.

A tripod held the composition steady, and the timer was set to 2 seconds for extra stability at the f25 setting.

Here is a slideshow of yesterday and today’s shots.

Copyright 2021 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Wildflowers Late Winter / Early Spring 1

In February 2020, I captured images of the first flowers to bloom on their property with a Canon 5D Mark IV DSLR and a macro lens. The flowers belong to the Eranthis genus, known for early flowering.

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These flowers are the first to bloom on our property, around the magnolia tree, and are also the first wildflowers photographed with my then new Canon 5D Mark IV dslr . Each year these “buttercups” grow thicker and spread. The latin scientific name Eranthis hyemalis proclaims the early nature of its flowering both in the genus, “Eranthis” – composed of two Greek language roots meaning “spring flower”, and species, “hyemalis” – a term from the Latin language meaning, “winter flowering.” The genus encompasses eight species, all early flowering plants with the common name winter aconite. These can also rightly be called Buttercups as the plant belongs to family Ranunculaceae, buttercups.

To capture the intricate details possible with the Canon EF 100 mm f/2.8 Macro lens I used here, it’s often necessary to adjust the camera settings to allow for a longer exposure time. This adjustment ensures that enough light reaches the sensor, particularly in macro photography or low-light situations, which helps in producing sharper and more detailed images. All these photographs are from f25. Setting a longer exposure compensates for the reduced light that might be a consequence of using a smaller aperture (higher f-number) for greater depth of field, a common technique in macro photography.”

It’s important to note that while setting a longer exposure can improve image quality by allowing more light to hit the camera’s sensor, it can also introduce the risk of motion blur if the camera or subject moves during the exposure. To minimize camera shake and achieve the best results, I used a Manfrotto “BeFree” tripod and the camera’s built-in timer set to a 2 second delay after a manual shutter release.

With the thermometer hovering above freezing, these blooms did not open today. The calendar says “late winter”, these Aconite are singing “early spring.”

Reference: Wikipedia “Eranthis hyemalis” and “Eranthis.”

Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Lucifer Falls, early spring evening

Sense of Scale

Come in and experience how humans are dwarfed by the eons

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Continue reading “Sense of Scale” →