
but the hushed
wingbeats
of
the multitude
overhead.


Early January and heavy snow was falling. Local birds were flocking to our bird feeders. Suddenly, the small birds disappeared. The local Cooper’s Hawk had showed up for lunch and our smaller feathered friends did not want to be lunch. Snow and blowing snow came and went as the raptor sat, observing from a tree branch. Sometimes the hawk could be seen clearly, sometimes snow completely hid it. The hawk watched for a while but, seeing no potential prey, flew off to hunt elsewhere.

Recently I thought I’d caught glimpses of a cormorant flying over the far side of our pond but I couldn’t be quite sure. Yesterday, I noticed a large bird perched over the water on a fallen tree branch and there it was — a double crested cormorant! Not an uncommon bird but this is the first I’ve seen one here. The bird spent most of the day on that branch basking in the sun, looking around, occasionally swimming, mostly just hanging out. I haven’t seen it today.



I glanced out the window this morning and spied this male Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) looking all…. broken. The bird was perched atop the shepherd’s hook hanger for the bird feeder six feet off the ground, head cocked to one side, wings disheveled, and totally still. Sick? Injured? A little birdie weirdo? I don’t know! After what seemed a long time, he righted himself, shook himself back into shape, preened a bit, then briefly repeated the pose before flying off. Mrs. Bluebird paid a brief visit shortly after the mister left and she behaved normally. Thank goodness Mr. Bluebird stayed in place just long enough for me to capture a few frames through the window.
Photos and Images by James Guilford

It turned out to be a stronger impact than forecast, and the strongest thus far of this solar activity cycle; the geomagnetic storm of May 10 – 11, 2024 produced auroras (Northern and Southern Lights) visible at night from locations nearly pole to pole.
The forecast of possible aurora prompted me to step outside at about 10 PM (EDT), when twilight had faded, to check the skies. At first I saw what I thought might be clouds but knowing auroras can be feeble, I watched. Sure enough, there was movement in those “clouds”.

Glancing overhead I saw what I found hard believe — aurora ray features directly overhead … at 41º latitude, a rare sight, indeed! Rushing back indoors, I pulled together camera, fisheye lens, and tripod and headed back out.

The aurora still presented itself as cloudy streaks with, perhaps, hints of color. Now also armed with my smartphone, I activated its camera and aimed it at the sky. There on the screen, light amplified by the phone’s electronics, glorious, eye-popping colors filled the sky! I’d never before experienced an aurora like it.

Only occasionally, during the time I was out, did the aurora’s color become visible to me; apparently being just below the limits of my, and others’ visual perception. Another local observer noted color was more visible shortly before I stepped outside to check on things — the actual peak of the display must have happened as twilight was ending and before 10 p.m.

I observed and photographed the aurora from shortly after 10:00 until about 11:30 EDT and in that hour or so, the intensity faded and then re-surged before fading away which was my signal to shut down.. I might have stayed out longer but had a commitment for the next day — sleep was needed — so, satisfied I’d seen the phenomenon at its best, I put away the camera gear.

Knowing it would be all over the news, I submitted my most spectacular shot of the night to the local newspaper — a daily that publishes on Saturday but not Sunday. It was too late for the Saturday edition but the editor gave my photo a three-column, Page 1 spot on Monday.

Our Sun is still in its peak activity period, by some accounts it won’t hit solar maximum until some time in 2025, so there may be more auroras in our near future but this was one for the history books!

We had visitors this morning! A Turkey Vulture was spotted first on a tree limb low above the pond. When I went to investigate, I spied second bird higher in the same tree. A second Turkey Vulture? No, it turned out to be a Black Vulture! I watched them both for some time before first, the Turkey Vulture, and then the Black Vulture, took off in different directions. It’s increasingly common to see Black Vultures in this area of Northern Ohio. It seems Turkey Vultures are quite adept at locating meals — usually carrion — which is something the Black Vultures aren’t so good at. The more aggressive Black Vultures are more skilled at opening thick-skinned carcasses. The complimentary abilities lead to the two types of bird being sighted together. The more common Turkey Vulture is annually celebrated in the neighboring town of Hinckley with springtime Vulture Days.


After days of negative weather forecasts, and spring’s reputation for cloudy skies, the clouds thinned Monday, April 8, leaving a milky film across most of the sky. We did, after all of the worry, get to see a very beautiful eclipse. Because the sun is so active right now, the dark disk of moon hiding sun was ringed with easily-seen prominences or “proms”, and surrounded by a fairly round corona.
I’d set up two telescopes in the driveway as I was concerned views from a backyard setup might suffer due to trees. I’d also hoped visitors might drop in to take a look. Only two neighbors visited, one during totality, but it was very nice to visit with them. Overall, since the eclipse was visible from people’s own backyards, we believe many, maybe most, simply stayed home and enjoyed the show; streets were quiet and, from what we could tell, crowds small.

While I had hoped and planned for a sky clear enough to enjoy an expansive view of the solar corona, the aforementioned thin cloud cover successfully masked the delicate outer corona leaving only the brilliant inner level accessible. At first I was disappointed but was consoled by my images of prominences — something I did not expect to record in such detail — and that was rewarding indeed!

As totality’s appointed hour neared, sunlight faded and took on an eerie quality seen, really, only during solar eclipses. Darkness began to set in and the breeze, as expected, turned cool. The world became quieter. A robin began singing its evening melody. When the last bit of sun winked out behind Moon, cheers rose from people gathered at a nearby public event. I removed the solar filters from my cameras and let them shoot photographs of totality. I looked at the eclipse, a bright light flared from the six o’clock position of the dark circle — a huge prominence that caused my visiting neighbor to ask about. Around three-quarters of the surrounding horizon was glowing in sunset color while the area under the ongoing eclipse was dark. One camera continued its slow count of shutter clicks. And then the world began its return to daylight. Quickly covering lenses I was gratified that I was able to, after days and weeks of concern and doubt, see the complete eclipse event.

It’s here that I confess that, in spite of my attempts to test and set up the cameras in advance of totality, I failed. My Canon EOS 6D Mk. 2 did not work as expected. I shot a few single images with it but ended up relying on the Canon 5D Mk. 4 for nearly everything. Even the 5D was not without issues as it did not automatically bracket exposures as I believed I set it — I’ll chalk that up to “operator error”. At least it “failed” with an excellent shutter speed to image the inner corona and those proms I’d wanted to catch!

Looking back on the day I can appreciate how lucky we were here at our Northeast Ohio home. Monday morning’s sky was covered in thick cloud and the forecast called for from 40 to 60 percent cloud cover. The sky later cleared to beautiful blue and, though a high thin cloud deck moved in, we saw and photographed a glorious natural phenomenon. This was only my second total solar eclipse, the first experienced in 1970, and it is quite likely my last since I’m not much of a “chaser”. Though I regretted my failings with my photographic plans, the results I did achieve delight me. It was indeed a day of luck and beauty.


Well would you look at that! One of my pictures received an Honorable Mention in the 2023 Weatherwise Photo Contest! I found out about the honor when the September/October issue arrived today. Weatherwise is the respected meteorological journal featuring “The Power, The Beauty, The Excitement” of weather. You may know I don’t generally enter photo contests. To be selected for even honorable mention from among thousands of entries is, yes, an honor.
After a stormy night, it was a welcome surprise to look out the window and see the silhouette of a Great Blue Heron against a clear twilight sky! I watched the heron as it sat quietly for a long time at the top of a dead tree’s trunk, the lovely curvature of its long neck and smooth body evoking thoughts of Asian art. Finally the bird pulled back, lunged forward, and sprang into flight. A fine way to start the day and a new month.


We’ve not been out much on nature hikes this year. We did, however, pay a brief visit to a local park Saturday, and spotted a few dragonflies. This is one of many Autumn Meadowhawks we observed that afternoon at the Medina County Park District’s Alderfer-Chatfield Wildlife Sanctuary. These red beauties are usually the last dragonfly seen each year with a flight season that begins in July and which can extend to mid-November.