Green-winged teal: The Art of Almost
Green-winged Teals, in my experience, are hard to photograph. First, they’re very small ducks—roughly the size of a winged avocado with commitment issues. Second, they’re shy. Not “reserved at dinner” shy—more like “bolt-at-the-sound-of-a-lens-cap” shy.
At Bubbling Ponds, years ago, you could count on hundreds of birds—grebes, mergansers, herons, hawks, and enough ducks to justify binocular-induced neck strain. But a few days ago? About fifty ducks. Mostly Ring-necks, some Wigeons and Mallards… and one Green-winged Teal.
As expected, he flushed before I got within range. That’s how it goes with this species. Usually, I end up with a brilliant photo of teal tailfeathers—sometimes enhanced by a tasteful arc of airborne duck poop, which, while technically action photography, is not exactly portfolio material.
But this time—this time—he banked. He reversed direction.
He turned and flew directly in front of me, in perfect light, like a tiny feathered diva granting one and only one red-carpet moment.
After years of teal butts, teal blur, and teal-based disappointment, this felt miraculous.
They flush, they flee, they poop and they dash,
And once in a lifetime, they fly with panache.
Green-winged teal: The Art of Almost
Green-winged Teals, in my experience, are hard to photograph. First, they’re very small ducks—roughly the size of a winged avocado with commitment issues. Second, they’re shy. Not “reserved at dinner” shy—more like “bolt-at-the-sound-of-a-lens-cap” shy.
At Bubbling Ponds, years ago, you could count on hundreds of birds—grebes, mergansers, herons, hawks, and enough ducks to justify binocular-induced neck strain. But a few days ago? About fifty ducks. Mostly Ring-necks, some Wigeons and Mallards… and one Green-winged Teal.
As expected, he flushed before I got within range. That’s how it goes with this species. Usually, I end up with a brilliant photo of teal tailfeathers—sometimes enhanced by a tasteful arc of airborne duck poop, which, while technically action photography, is not exactly portfolio material.
But this time—this time—he banked. He reversed direction.
He turned and flew directly in front of me, in perfect light, like a tiny feathered diva granting one and only one red-carpet moment.
After years of teal butts, teal blur, and teal-based disappointment, this felt miraculous.
They flush, they flee, they poop and they dash,
And once in a lifetime, they fly with panache.