The Monarch's Story

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” Albert Einstein 

One of the surest first signs of fall in our area is the appearance of the Monarch Butterfly. The Monarch is my favorite butterfly. This is partially because the fall is my favorite season of the year but the other reason I am so fond of the Monarch is the amazing story of their migration. I learned about the Monarch many years ago but their story has always stuck with me. 

The Monarch butterflies that we enjoy seeing this time of year will spend the winter months in Mexico, in the same trees their ancestors used for wintering a year earlier. The astonishing part of this is that these butterflies have never been in Mexico before but know the exact tree their great-grandparents used the prior year. You see, the Monarch that leaves Mexico in the spring will only live four to five weeks. It will fly into Texas, reproduce and die. That offspring will fly further north, reproduce and die. The third generation offspring will repeat the process again making it further north but still short of the final summer destination. The fourth generation Monarch will then fly to the northern U.S. or Canada and remain until fall. That generation, the super Monarchs, rather than living four or five weeks will live eight months and will leave Canada in late September or early October and then gradually make the long flight back to Mexico where it will spend winter, reproduce, and die. The cycle repeats each year as four new generations of butterfly take their place in the year long story of the Monarch. This butterfly is the male Monarch, distinguished by the black spot on the hind wings.

Monarch butterflies are poisonous if eaten since the caterpillar stage feeds on milkweed, a poisonous plant. Birds have long since learned not to eat the caterpillars or the butterflies themselves. Thus the Monarch has few predators to disturb their life cycles. Interestingly, another butterfly, the Viceroy, has nearly identical coloration and markings. The Viceroy is not poisonous since it does not feed on milkweed but birds tend to leave them alone, believing them to be their cousins, the Monarch. This adaptation is known as mimicry and is an effective strategy for protection. The Viceroy is a little smaller and has a single band across the mid portion of the hind wing. This is a sure indicator of which butterfly is which. The one in this photograph is the Monarch.

Next time you see a Monarch, count yourself lucky and remember their remarkable story.      

About this photograph:

I shot this photograph on October 6, 2018.Here are the particulars:

Camera, Nikon D810

Lens, Nikor 70-200 F4

Focal length, 200 mm

Aperture, F4

ISO 100

Shutter speed 1/1600 second.

Before the Dawn

"Before the dawn, when the sea is calm and the sky is clear, life slows down to just that moment in time; all the world seems somehow connected, and makes sense to me." Philip Culbertson

Of the five N.C. lighthouses on the Outer Banks, the smallest and least conspicuous one is my favorite. The Roanoke Marshes Light may be found in downtown Manteo between Bodie Island and Nags Head, N.C. The lighthouse guards the Croatan Sound and is still used today by fishing boats and pleasure craft passing through the sound. The Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse is a screw-pile lighthouse. An ingenious designer in the 1800's determined a new way to sink the structure's pilings into the soft bottom of the sound. Instead of attempting to drive the piles, he attached an auger-type attachment to each pile that could be turned via a large crank from above causing the pile to pull itself deeper into the sandy bottom. In essence, the piles were screwed into the sand and mud.

The Roanoke Marshes Light was built in 1877 but was destroyed several times by storms, soldiers during the civil war, decay, and errant boats that collided with the structure. One of the lighthouses even sank while being relocated. In 1955, the structure was falling apart once again and the lighthouse was decommissioned. Near the end of the twentieth century, the decision was made to rebuild the lighthouse and that building along with its Fresnel lens is what we see today. The lighthouse is lit every night and is still used as a navigation aid by boats traveling through the sound to port. The lighthouse is also used as a popular wedding venue and town attraction in Manteo. The lighthouse is only 37 feet tall but what it lacks in height, I think it makes up for in photogenic personality.

About this shot: This shot was taken at 6:07 A.M. during blue hour. Sunrise was to be at 6:39 A.M. that day. I drove from Kill Devil Hills to Manteo around 5:00 A.M. I found the lighthouse, scouted the area where I expected the sunrise and selected a location to set up my camera. I liked the walkway lights and reflections in the water and wanted to get the lighthouse photograph while the light was still on. I shot more images up to about an hour after sunrise but this one was my favorite.

Camera: Nikon D810

Lens: Nikor 24-120/F4 lens

Tripod: Sirui W2204 Carbon Fiber with Sirui Ball Head

Aperture: F8

Focal Length: 55 mm

Shutter Speed: 8 Seconds

ISO: 64, my lowest native ISO

Filters: None used

The Hatteras Light

I love lighthouses. There is just something that draws me in as they stand solemly; keeping watch over passing ships during storms, on the darkest, coldest nights, and the brightest days. In some ways, time is slowly passing them by. In a time of Global Positioning Satellites and digital communications, they are gradually becoming obsolete. Most passing ships have little need for their service, which was once so crucial. It is estimated that more than a thousand ships wrecked off the coast or in the sounds that make up the outer banks of North Carolina before the five lighthouses were built. Today, sailors can watch a video monitor to determine precisely where they are and what areas to avoid without need of the lighthouse beacons.  

When I went out to take this photo, I was on the beach well before daylight. The night was black with no moon, few stars were visible, the ocean was pounding the beach as the tide came in. As I stood there lost in the smell of the ocean, the sounds of the sea, and the salty breeze, I realized that there was something strangely reassuring to me as the light made its turn. I then thought about the old sea captains, steering through the shallows where so many ships ran aground and later broke apart in the crashing surf. I imagine that even today, the older sailors have that same sense of reassuring comfort in seeing the light sweep past.

The Hatteras lighthouse was built in 1870 where it stood until 1999. It was then raised and moved one-half mile inland due to fear that continuing changes in the shoreline would cause the lighthouse to become unstable and fall. There are 257 steps and 10 landings from the ground level to the top. In the old days, the light was powered by whale oil and later by kerosene. The light keeper had to walk the stairs each day carrying a five gallon can of fuel for the light. Having walked to the top myself, I have a great deal of respect for the old lightkeepers who faithfully made the walk every day in all possible weather to keep the old light burning, providing safe passage to the ships entering the sound.

This shot was taken during golden hour, just as the sun moved above the horizon, spilling soft golden-orange light onto the lighthouse, the beach sand, and sea oats on the dune. I photographed the lighthouse from several angles and during different lighting conditions, and to me, this one was the most appealing shot. I loved the golden light of course but also liked the feeling the sea oats provided in the scene.  

About this photograph:

• Shot from the beach right after sunrise around 6:50 A.M.

• Camera: Nikon D810 DSLR

• Lens: 24-120 F4 Nikor lens at 120mm. 

• Shot on Sirui tripod from the beach behind the lighthouse. 

• Aperture: F8

• Shutter Speed 1/60th of a second following a 3 second exposure delay.   

• ISO was 64, the lowest native setting on my D810.

Sometimes, You Just Get Lucky

Sometimes You Just Get Lucky: While on the N.C. Outer Banks last week, I caught this photo of the Ocracoke Lighthouse as the sun was going down. Most of my photographs are planned in advance with checks of weather, light expected, camera gear needed. This shot however, was completely spontaneous. It was taken on the day we arrived after a nine-hour drive and a ninety minute ferry ride. We had just gone to dinner and were on the way back to our room when I decided to swing by to scout the lighthouse in preparation for the following morning's shoot. As it turned out, the sun was setting and some clouds were beginning to catch the light. I had my camera in the car and jumped out quickly to grab this shot. This one was hand-held since I didn't have my tripod with me. I was still happy with the shot and liked both the sky colors as well as the soft sunset light falling on the lighthouse. 

This lighthouse was built in 1823 and is the oldest lighthouse in N.C. and the second oldest in the nation. It is seventy-five feet tall and is short in comparison to most others. There are only around 57 stairs whereas Hatteras has 257. This lighthouse watches over the Ocracoke Inlet to the Pamlico Sound which was the only navigable passageway to the cities on the mainland of NC at that time. After numerous shipwrecks of English cargo ships, the Lighthouse, grounds and Lightkeeper's House were built for $11,359.   

About this photo:

• Camera was Nikon d810

• Lens was 24-120 mm F4

• Aperture F4

• Shutter Speed 1/40 second

• ISO was 64, lowest native ISO

• Shot was hand-held with VR on

Cairn

Not long ago, I drove to Table Rock State Park to do a shoot at Carrick Creek. Carrick Creek meanders around the base of Table Rock Mountain before emptying into the lake in the park. I started early, shortly after sunrise and took a few shots on the way up the creek. I happened across the waterfall (one of several on the trail) and as I was setting up, I noticed this little cairn built on the rock ledge downstream of the waterfall. 

Cairn (pronounced kern) is a Gaelic word referring to a mound of stones forming a memorial or a landmark. Cairn have been built for hundreds of years. Many of the ancient cairn are 4-8 feet tall, some even taller. Most recently, hikers have adopted the practice of constructing them along trails and landmarks. Usually they are placed to alert others to the direction of the trail but many are placed just for the symbolism and experience itself. They have come to symbolize hiking and exploration and it is very common now to find them at landmarks such as waterfalls, mountaintops, trail junctions, etc. I rarely visit a waterfall where there are not two or three cairn stacked inconspicuously on a ledge in the waterfall.   

Some people frown on the building of cairn and knock them down when found as they believe that they disturb the natural landscape. Others like them and leave them alone. I ran across this one on a hike recently and thought it was interesting in this setting so I took a photograph. Normally, my subjects are usually the waterfalls themselves but in this case, I decided to compose the shot with the waterfall as the background, isolating the cairn as my subject.

I left this cairn alone as I didn't think it detracted from the setting and I actually appreciated the skill of whomever took the time to place the stones.

About this photograph:

• This shot was actually three separate shots, focus stacked for sharpness from front to back and then blended during post processing. 
• Camera was set to my lowest native setting, ISO 64.
• Camera was my Nikon D810 in vertical orientation.
• Lens was a Nikon 70-200 F4 lens at 200 mm focal length. 
• Shot at aperture F11, 3 second shutter speed (low light and a polarizer) to blur the water and help isolate the subject.  
• Shot on a Sirui tripod.

The Table and the Stool

The Table and the Stool: I've photographed this mountain from other angles for previous posts but I was here early in the morning last week when the sun was coming up and liked the way the golden light began to fall across the scene and the rock face of Table Rock. I was in the park around 7 A.M. to photograph Carrick Creek but decided to stop by the roadway to grab this shot. As I mentioned before, the Cherokee people called this mountain Sah-ka-na-ga (The great blue hills of God). They believed the Great Spirit used the taller mountain as a table and the smaller one as a stool. Today, this is one of the most hiked locations in the upstate. It is considered very strenuous and is about 7.4 miles round trip. Table rock is 3124 feet in elevation and it takes about 5 hours to make the round trip hike plus whatever time you spend at the top. It is worth the hike though, the views from the top are awesome. A word of caution, take plenty of water, some food, and plan to start down well before sunset. I'd also suggest packing a head lamp as well, just in case. Being on top will fool you. When the light starts to drop on top, it is already dark below and darkness in the woods, on the side of a mountain, is very different than darkness in suburban areas. The trail is steep in places, is often crossed with rocks or tree roots and though well marked, can be difficult to navigate in the dark.  

I have done this hike a dozen times and never regretted it once I arrived at the top. I'm planning to hike up again in October when the leaves begin to change and the weather cools a bit. I'll be leaving a little before sunrise and will begin coming down around 2:00 P.M. If anyone wishes to come along, let me know. 

About this photograph:

• This was a six shot panorama stitched together in Lightroom. 
• Shutter speed was 1/6th second for each shot.
• I used F13 aperture.
• Camera was set to my lowest native setting, ISO 64.
• Camera was my Nikon D810 in vertical orientation.
• Lens was a Nikon 24-120 F4 lens at 55 mm focal length. 
• Shot on a Sirui tripod fully extended in the back of my pickup truck.