I have lived in my current house for 11 years and like many homeowners, I have made a list of little things that bother me. If you live in a dwelling of any kind, you have a list of your own.
Perhaps the mailbox does something stupid, or the doorbell light is out, or the electric outlet in the garage is in the wrong place. They are minor things that we live with.
My house is set up so the main windows look south into my back yard. On the east side of the house, there is a door that takes you from the kitchen to the deck. The deck is odd because it is triangular shaped, which means the railings do not run parallel to the side of the house.
Then, the north end of the deck meets up with the driveway at ground level, while the south end is nine feet above the ground that continues to slope downward toward the meadow.
Because of the change in elevation, the person that built the deck decided to put in a flight of stairs, which starts at the tip of the triangular deck that is furthest from my house. It then descends to the ground. This design feature is great for getting into the back yard, but presents an odd problem for photography. Because there are two railings running parallel to each other but not to the house, any photos of animals on the closer of the two will always show the further one in the background.
Time and again this has irritated me. I get a wonderful shot of a bird that is marred by the jumbled background. Even worse, because life has a way of finding odd places to live, I am always reminded that there is a film of green algae on one railing that routinely ruins winter shots. I can blast the railing clean with a pressure washer, but algae always seems to return. In the winter, you want to see white, gray and brown — definitely not mossy green.
For 11 years, I have been living with this mild irritation, but last Monday, when the snow arrived and cancelled school, I found myself contemplating a quiet day at home taking photos. The issue with the railings was in my head while it was still dark out. I had already gotten dressed and moved my car so I could get the snow blower out. For some reason I decided to try to fix my little problem.
Using scrap wood left from making birdhouses during the summer, I decided to build what could best be described as a shoebox made of pine boards. The longest piece I had that was wide enough to span the width of the railings was about 18 inches long. Fortunately, I had another piece of lumber that was not as wide, but was long enough to be cut and fashioned into the two long sides of the box. I added a couple braces on the open side, like thwarts on a canoe, and because I was only dealing with a prototype, I decided to leave the ends open.
Once in place, the box snugly straddled the railing. Normal wind wouldn’t be able to knock it off, and my measurements were sufficient to raise the top of the box so the railing behind it was no longer in the frame. I fixed the problem in about 10 mintues, but it still needed to be tested.
I took a deep, mournful sigh and resigned myself to several quiet hours of bird photography. Snowy mornings always bring a big breakfast crowd, and long before there was enough light to take pictures, the deck was crawling with all sorts of sparrows, finches, titmice, nuthatches and chickadees. The new item on the railing was eyed with caution, but eventually deemed safe — they accepted, then ignored.
I was particularly interested in the appearance of a female northern cardinal. Her caramel-colored feathers and bright orange beak promised a spectacular image, but I was particularly interested in getting before and after shots. I had set up my new railing raiser in the ideal spot for photography. Located 12 feet from my kitchen window, the box was just a few inched beyond the 11.75-foot minimum focus distance of my big lens. It only took 10 minutes to get the two shots I needed.
In the first, is a beautiful female cardinal, but background is a problem — none of the angles seem to match, the vertical railing supports are unpleasant to look at. There’s a hint of green from algae on both railings.
In the second photo, the problems have been eliminated. Fresh, clean wood is horizontal at the bottom of the photo and the background is a blurry image of my neighbor’s back yard. Aside from the slight slope to the ground in the far (and blurry) distance, there isn’t a single problem with this photo. I’ll just ask my neighbor to level out his entire yard for me in the summer. No big deal, really. I’m sure he can do it in about ten minutes.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and he also teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.