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Last month, I drove down to Alligator River, North Carolina to search for wild American black bears. In the process, I made this short documentary about my search for these awesome animals. (Sorry; this is kind of cheating as far as blog posts go, but I had to post something). Please watch the video below. If you like bears, and you want to see one on the US east coast, you'll love this video. It's just under 5 minutes, so it gets right to the point.

Warning: I say, "Damn" and "badass" in the video, so you might not want young children to see it.

Transcript:

In Dare County, North Carolina, a bastion for American black bears is hidden in plain sight. Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge hosts one of the largest concentrations of black bears on the U.S. east coast. In this episode, I’ll go looking for these bears on an American safari.

Getting around the Alligator River Wildlife Refuge is simple. There are multiple dirt roads and tracks that allow you to drive around the refuge’s 150,000 acres, and you don’t even need a 4x4. The best places to search for bears are around the crop fields and canals. Last time I was here, I spotted an old bear bathing in one of the canals.

[I miss my Land Rover, but it's pretty badass offroading in a freakin' Honda CR-V.]

On the refuge’s back roads, I have not seen a bear, but I have seen their tracks and scat (their poop) scattered about in the area. In the dense forests, it is much harder to spot a bear, but they’re definitely around. Scanning the dense vegetation, I keep my eyes peeled for movement.

[I get lost, etc., etc. End up on Navy bombing range. Oh crap.]

I hastily make my way away from the U.S. Navy Bombing Range back towards the crop fields. Year round, the bears are drawn to the crop fields, and they—along with lack of hunting pressures and human presence--are likely a primary reason behind the thriving bear populations.

[Find bear.]

In the spring and summer, the tall fields of grain and other crops make the bears difficult to find. But, after the harvest season, the crops are gone, and the bears are quite easy to spot.

During this time, the hungry bears are foraging for grain left behind by farmers. Black bears are omnivorous, and in Alligator River, they primarily eat plants and insects.

[See another black bear.]

Black bears are territorial, and they are usually seen alone. However, due to the abundance of food in Alligator River, you are likely to see multiple bears in the same area.

According to a study by the U.S. Geological Survey’s Cooperative Wildlife Research Unit at Virginia Tech (Yeesh--that's a mouthful), Alligator River’s black bear population is estimated to be between 180 and 293 bears, with about three bears per square mile on good habitat. By comparison, in other good black bear habitats, a normal population is one bear per square mile. That says a lot about Alligator River.

If you see a bear in the wild, keep your distance. Black bears are not nearly as dangerous to humans as brown bears, but they can still be aggressive when threatened or hungry. Like all animals, they deserve respect.

So, on that note, I ride off into the sunset. Obligatory statement about humanity's negative impact on the environment, and the positive outcomes of conservation. Take nothing but pictures; leave nothing but footprints. You get the idea. Blah, blah, blah. Until next time.

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Me in Iceland.  In January. Iceland looks like Middle Earth/Westeros.

G'day! If you're reading this, I'm back! I am probably the only animal that has gone utterly extinct and subsequently returned. Yet, here I am. I am alive, and I have new content for your viewing pleasure.

Originally, I made this site for fun, but when I started taking it seriously, it became a chore, and I started losing interest. Then, when I started writing articles for a website called Roaring Earth, that was the final nail in the coffin. Why write articles on my own site when I can get paid to write them for someone else? Well, I'll tell ya. Some things aren't about money or views.

While I enjoy writing for Roaring Earth, I also like to create my own content as well, and that's why I've published this new post. I cannot promise that I will be prolific with my posts, but I will certainly make a better effort to post more than once a year. Haha.

Anyways, I have been around a bit. In November 2016, I went to Zambia, which was my first ever trip to Africa. Going to Africa had always been a dream of mine, and I was overjoyed to finally fulfill it. I cannot wait to go back!

A leopard in a tree in Zambia's South Luangwa Valley.A leopard in a tree in Zambia's South Luangwa Valley. Leopards are quite prevalent in this part of Africa.

A leopard perched in a tree in Zambia's South Luangwa Valley.

Additionally, in January 2017, I went to Iceland and explored the southern parts of the country. I went scuba diving in the Silfra Fissure, where the North American and European tectonic plates are slowly pulling away. There, I put one hand on North America and the other on Europe. That was pretty cool. But, anyways, enough about me. I'll write some more nature/wildlife-related posts soon. Until then, take it easy!

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First Video Clip Featured in a BBC Documentary

In January 2015, on BBC Two, Nature's Weirdest Events - Series 4 aired a clip of my southern cassowary footage the first episode. I've mentioned this more than a couple times on my site here, so I've beaten the dead horse to a pulp. But the event was quite exciting for me, and it's actually the reason I revitalized my site and blog.

First Time Outside an Airport in California

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In March 2013, I gazed upon Los Angeles for the first time from the window of a plane as I prepared to land at LAX. From LAX, I would fly across the Pacific to Sydney, but I would never set foot outside the airport. Similarly, in March 2014, on my way home from Australia, I had a layover at San Francisco International, but I would once again never set foot outside the airport. Yet, finally, in 2015, I flew across the United States to San Diego to see an old friend and stepped outside an airport in California for the first time. Funny that I've seen more of Australia than I have seen of my own country.

First Land Rover 4x4 Adventure

IMG_5210 For 10 years, I have owned my Land Rover, and in those 10 years, I never took her out on a true 4x4 adventure, which is sad, really. Yet, finally, in April 2015, I took her down to North Carolina and drove along the beach in Corolla in the Outer Banks. I had a blast leaving the asphalt behind and roving across the sand. I regret not having done that sooner!

First Time Photographing & Filming Wild Owls

IMG_5054 I've glimpsed a number of owls, but until May 2015, I had never photographed (or filmed) them. This year, I got extremely lucky, and thanks to a helpful friend (and known bird enthusiast), I was able to photograph and film a mother great horned owl and her owlets in a nest.

First Time Volunteering for the Sierra Club

DSC03629 I like to complain about current issues, especially those related to the environment. But, for the most part, I have been all talk and no action. In 2015, I changed that. Over the summer, I became very involved with the Virginia Chapter of the Sierra Club and volunteered to help combat climate change and deliver environmental justice. I intend to remain active in 2016.

First Time Scuba Diving in Virginia
DSC01257-4 Despite being born and raised in Virginia, I did not scuba dive in my home state until July 2015. Why? Because, instead of learning to scuba dive in the US, I learned to scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef. When I returned to Virginia a full year later, I started working on-call on tugboats, and I had very little time for much of anything outside work throughout the rest of 2014. Thus, I had over 100 dives in Australia and only a handful in the US. But, in 2015, I had far more time and flexibility and was able to dive in Virginia for the first and second time and North Carolina for the second and third time.

First Time Encountering Wild Venus Flytraps

IMG_7120 Believe it or not, Venus flytraps are only native to a 60 mile (96.5 km) radius around Wilmington, North Carolina. When I went to Wilmington, my intention was to scuba dive on the wrecks offshore (which I did), but I discovered that the area was also prime habitat for Venus flytraps and other carnivorous plants. So, being the naturalist and wildlife photographer I am, I HAD to go find them. And I did!

First Time Encountering Wild Bears

IMG_8565 In August 2015, I drove down to Alligator River Wildlife Refuge in North Carolina in search of American black bears. Alligator River is special because it boasts one of the largest concentrations of black bears on the eastern seaboard, and I knew I had a very good chance of seeing one there. After hours of aimlessly driving around the refuge, I finally encountered my first black bears at dusk and managed to snap a few shots. Later on, in September 2015, I returned to Alligator River and managed to get some even better shots (and some footage, too!).

First Time Sailing in a Regatta

DSC05764 At the moment, I am getting back into sailing for reasons that I'll reveal in 2016. (Hint: I've circumnavigated Australia in a 1992 Ford Falcon. What do you think I plan to do next?) The problem? I haven't sailed since I was 12 years old. But, thanks to another good friend of mine, I sailed in my first regatta in October and November 2015, and somehow, we won!

First Time Visiting Boston

DSC06849-3 Boston is definitely not an exotic or nature-packed place, so going there for the first time is decidedly more mundane than the rest of my accomplishments. Nevertheless, I found the history quite rich (for an American city), and the Harvard Museum of Natural History was fantastic! Also, a Dropkick Murphys concert in Fenway Park! What more could you ask for?!

Cassowary Screenshot A screenshot from my cassowary video.

Southern Cassowaries (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland

As I mentioned, clips from this video were featured in Episode One of the BBC documentary series Nature's Weirdest Events - Series 4.

Eyed Click Beetle

This video is extremely popular. At first, I couldn't understand why, but I think it's because this beetle's clicking behavior is so bizarre.

Mudskippers: Fish That Can Walk on Land

This video, narrated by yours truly, is my second most popular YouTube video right now. Learn about the fantastic amphibious mudskipper fish.

Road Trains - Australia's HUGE Trucks!!!

Obviously, road trains are not animals, but this is my most popular video, and it's the only one on this list that's not related to animals or nature.

Squirrels Eating Doritos

Title says it all. Squirrels eating Doritos.

The Jumping Crocodiles of Northern Australia

Watch these huge saltwater crocodiles lunge out of the turbid waters of the Adelaide River to snap up juicy slabs of buffalo meat.

Snow Birds

Northern cardinals, mourning doves, dark-eyed juncos, and a variety of other songbirds waltz in a winter wonderland.

Eastern Hognose Snake (Heterodon platirhinos)

This is one of my oldest videos, and it's the only one on this list where I get some screen time.

Black Bear Bathing

This is one of my newest videos, and it's also one of my favorites.

Osprey (aka Seahawk) Feeding Chicks

Another older video. I set up a camera to film this mother osprey feeding her chicks.

Green Swamp Preserve is a small, secluded patch of forest owned by the Nature Conservancy. Yet, despite the name, it is nothing like a swamp you'd imagine. It's actually an open savanna populated by an assortment of longleaf pine trees, wiregrass, ferns, orchids, and of course, carnivorous plants. Ironically, these plants all depend on forest fires to survive, since the high temperatures allow pine cones to burst and release seeds and the aftermath leaves plenty of clear, sunlit land to allow wiregrass and pines to grow and thrive. The roots of all these plants (including the carnivorous ones) are protected from the hottest fires, which allows them to regenerate after each burning.

IMG_6879 This is Green Swamp. It hardly resembles a swamp.

Among the multitude of carnivorous plant species in Green Swamp, yellow pitcher plants are among the most common. Rows upon rows of the bright yellow plants speckle the green forest floor, which makes them very easy to spot. IMG_7084

Yellow pitcher plants in Green Swamp.

Like other pitcher plants, yellow pitcher plants capture prey using their long pitcher-like tube. Inside the tube, they possess downward-pointing hairs, which guide unsuspecting insects and spiders inside, and nectar-secreting glands, which invite prey further down. The nectar contains sugars, but it also contains coniine, which is a toxin also found in poison hemlock plants. Once prey has made it this far, it rarely escapes. Between intoxication and a watery grave, a small insect or spider is no match.

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The leaf lid above the yellow pitcher plant's tube.

But that's not the yellow pitcher plant's only critical adaptation. Above the pitcher plant's tube, a rolled leaf forms a lid, which prevents rain water from diluting the plant's digestive secretions inside the tube. This lid also serves as a resting place for many insects and spiders, unaware of the perils just below them.

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A green lynx spider rests on a yellow pitcher plant's leaf lid.

These insects and spiders provide food for all the carnivorous plants that haunt Green Swamp. Yet, of all these plants, the main stars are the Venus flytraps. Venus flytraps are, perhaps, the most famous of all carnivorous plants; yet, surprisingly, they are only native to this very small corner of the world. In fact, they are only found in a 60 mile (97 kilometer) radius around Wilmington, North Carolina.

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Venus flytraps are the most well-known of the carnivorous plants.

Contrary to popular belief, Venus flytraps do not specifically target flies. Their diet is 33% ants, 30% spiders, 10% beetles, and 10% grasshoppers, with fewer than 5% flying insects. As you can tell, flying insects such as flies make up a mere 5% of the Venus flytrap's diet while ants and spiders account for over 60%. However, Venus ant-trap just doesn't have the same ring to it, although Venus spidertrap would certainly capture a few eyes!

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The leaves of Venus flytraps are designed to capture and consume prey.

Because of their fascinating appearance and lifestyle, Venus flytraps are coveted by collectors worldwide. However, for this reason, they are at risk of endangerment. Roughly 33,000 Venus flytraps exist in the wild, and their populations are vulnerable. Since they are tiny and sedentary, they are defenseless against poachers, logging companies, and other outside threats.

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Venus flytraps are tiny and easy to miss.

Currently, Venus flytraps are only found on sites owned by the Nature Conservancy (such as Green Swamp), the North Carolina state government, and the US military. Thankfully, they are protected by law; in some North Carolina counties, it is a felony to collect Venus flytraps.

A small fish darts in front of your mask, and it swims to the wreck. You follow it down and place your hand on the wreck, taking in the once glorious vessel. When you remove your hand, you casually glance at your glove and notice it's covered in several small, eight-legged creatures. Spiders.

Terrified, you jerk your hand back and shake it. But the spiders cling tightly to your hand. Why are there spiders 60 feet (18 meters) underwater?!?!

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Spiders? No. UNDERWATER SPIDERS!!!!!!

As unlikely as this scenario may seem, spiders do live under the sea. Yet, these spiders are not arachnids; they are pycnogonids. Pycnogonids, commonly known as sea spiders, are not spiders, but they are related to them. They share the subphylum Chelicerata with arachnids and horseshoe crabs, making them more closely related to spiders than to crustaceans and other marine arthropods.

Sea spidersThere are spiders in the ocean, and they are aptly named sea spiders. But sea spiders are not the arachnid kind. They are in their own class, which is called Pycnogonida.

A cluster of sea spiders on the wreck of a tugboat off Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA.

Pycnogonids are a rather ancient class and have existed for over 485 million years. They've been around so long because they're highly adaptable and inhabit all of the world's oceans, from the frigid Arctic and Antarctic oceans to the tepid Caribbean Sea. They are generally found in shallower waters, but some species can be found as deep as 23,000 feet (7000 meters).

They also tend to be carnivorous, feeding on cnidarians, sponges, polychaetes, and bryozoans. To feed, they use their long proboscis to suck nutrients out of unsuspecting prey.

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A cluster of sea spiders on the wreck of a tugboat off Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA.

But pycnogonids aren't the only spiders in the ocean. There are other spiders lurking in the depths, such as spider crabs. Of course, spider crabs aren't spiders at all, and they aren't even remotely related to them. Nevertheless, with their bumpy brown carapaces and eight long legs, they do look a bit spider-like. Just look at the photo below, and see for yourself.

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A sheep crab (Loxorhynchus grandis) at La Jolla Shores, San Diego, California, USA.

If you have not heard yet, an American dentist named Walter Palmer shot and killed a beloved male lion named Cecil in Zimbabwe. Not only did he kill an animal in cold blood, but he and a couple other poachers lured the lion out of a national park, so he could shoot it. After he shot Cecil with a crossbow, Cecil staggered on, clinging to life for 40 hours with a crossbow bolt pierced through his body, before eventually dying. Thinking about Cecil's demise, I can't help but remember this scene from The Lion King:

Hunting vs Trophy Hunting vs Photography

Now, let me be clear, I have nothing against hunting or fishing. The majority of recreational hunters and fishermen are out for a good time with their families, and they will eat whatever they catch. However, this is not on the same level. This is trophy hunting. This is not about eating. This is about killing and bragging. These hunters pay hundreds of thousands to murder exotic animals. Yes, I said, "murder".

Cecil the Lion - Walter PalmerWalter Palmer, who killed Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe, with one of his trophy kills.

Walter Palmer with one of his trophy kills.

As a wildlife photographer, I also like to shoot animals, but I don't use a gun. Whether I'm on land or underwater, I always have my camera on hand, and sometimes, I venture into the habitat of dangerous animals to take photographs. With a gun, you can easily shoot a lion or rhino, even if you're far away and can't see the whole animal. On the other hand, if you're photographing a lion or rhino, you need to get much closer to see the animal, AND you need a clear shot. Now, THAT'S dangerous. Yet, it's also sustainable. If you take a picture of an animal, rather than kill it, other people will get the chance to appreciate it as well.

The Headless Crocodile

Walter is not the only murderous trophy hunter out there. There are plenty of other people who slaughter defenseless predators for nothing more than sport. In this case, Walter was exposed, and the whole world could see his true colors. In most cases, the hunter gets away without anyone ever knowing his/her identity.

In fact, I have had my own experience with faceless trophy hunters. When I was living in Cairns in northeast Australia, I wanted to find and photograph wild saltwater crocodiles. However, in Cairns, crocs are fairly rare due to extensive hunting in the past and croc-control measures in the present. Unperturbed, I asked around until I learned about a local crocodile that had been living in Trinity Inlet for 15 years. Unlike most saltwater crocs, this one was neither aggressive nor territorial and could easily be approached in a small boat.

Excited, I prepared to rent a small boat to putter around the mangroves and photograph this local croc, only to learn that the croc was dead. Weeks earlier, trophy hunters had killed and beheaded the "friendly" croc. Just as Walter's greed had denied nature-enthusiasts the chance to see and photograph Cecil, these faceless hunters had denied me (and hundreds of other people) the chance to see and photograph the crocodile.

The headless crocodile in Cairns.

The Shark Killer

Trophy kills are not limited to the land, however. On the ocean, trophy-hunting fishermen catch and kill sharks and other large marine predators purely for sport. The most infamous of these marine trophy-hunters is Mark the Shark, who has killed hundreds, if not thousands, of sharks in south Florida. If you look at his website or Instagram feed, you will see the many sharks he has killed and hauled out on dry land. Coupled with photos of scantily clad women, his shark photos appeal to his "manly" fanbase.

Mark the Shark with two of his trophy kills.

Yet, as a scuba diver, I see no glory in hunting sharks from the safety of a boat. I have ventured into the sharks' element. I have been face-to-face with bull sharks and diving in known habitat for great white sharks. In this situation, the sharks have an advantage, and I am merely a visitor. If I want to photograph them, I need to get close. And, since I'm underwater and don't have a telephoto lens, I need to get VERY close. These shark hunters, on the other hand, don't. They bring the sharks into THEIR element, where the shark has no chance of fighting back. If you want to catch sharks, that is fine, but unless you intend to eat them (which is generally not the case with sharks), you should release them back into the ocean.

Conclusion: Trophy-Hunters Aren't Courageous or Manly

Overall, trophy-hunters believe they are hot stuff because they can conquer dangerous and/or predatory animals. They are not. Hiding behind the barrel of a gun or the reel of a fishing rod won't make you a hero. If you're defending yourself against a wild animal, that's one thing, but killing a defenseless animal "just for sport" is another. You are denying millions of people (both now and in the future) the opportunity to view and appreciate wildlife and experience the natural world.

Sincerely,

Teddy Fotiou

Editor and owner of EpochCatcher

Bull Shark in Beqa Lagoon in Pacific Harbour, FijiBull Shark in Beqa Lagoon in Pacific Harbour, Fiji

From a young age, I'd dreamed of diving with sharks. I photographed this bull shark in Beqa Lagoon in Fiji.

Like many other Americans, I grew up watching Shark Week religiously. In the late 90s and early 2000s, I didn't have cable, so I couldn't watch the Discovery Channel at home. Unperturbed, I pestered my aunts and cousins to allow me to watch Shark Week at their houses and record all of the new episodes. For me, each documentary was a sermon: the marine biologists were preachers, and the cartilaginous marine predators were deities.

Yet, over time, as the Discovery Channel's programming started venturing southward, Shark Week's programming took a similar dive. Shark Week has increasingly taken a sensationalist slant, focusing on shark attacks and great whites, rather than educational content and the 439 other species of sharks.

Spotted Wobbegong near Manly Beach in Sydney, NSW, Australia Spotted Wobbegong near Manly Beach in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

This is the spotted wobbegong. Shark Week often glosses over weird sharks like these.

Just take a look at Shark Week's programming throughout the years. Many of their shows have ridiculous titles worthy of a Buzzfeed article: Return of the Great White Serial Killer, Bride of Jaws, Monster Mako, Monster Hammerhead, Zombie Sharks, Alien Sharks: Close Encounters (to be fair, this one is about deep sea sharks, and it sounds pretty cool). While I am not anti-fun and think education can be fun, these titles don't make the brain-melting content any more appealing to scientifically-minded folks.

Great White Shark at the Neptune Islands in South AustraliaA great white shark at the Neptune Islands in South Australia.

Obligatory great white shark picture. I photographed this guy at the Neptune Islands in South Australia.

But the most infamous Shark Week suckiness of all occurred in 2013. That year, Shark Week kicked off with a documentary called Megalodon: The Monster Shark Lives, which focused on a giant, prehistoric shark called Megalodon ("the big-tooth shark"). For 14 million years, the bus-sized Megalodon patrolled ancient seas, feeding on whales, dolphins, fish, and other marine life, and it was very much alive. So, if it was a real shark, what was the problem? The documentary was completely fake and claimed Megalodon was still alive, even though fossil evidence suggests Megalodons disappeared no later than 2.6 million years ago.

After that Shark Week, viewers were pretty pissed off, and the backlash from the scientific community was severe. Yet, despite the controversy, Megalodon: The Monster Shark Lives became Shark Week's most popular episode, with 4.8 million viewers tuning in for its debut. Some viewers even believed that Megalodons are, indeed, still roaming the deep sea, and in 2014, Shark Week included a second fake Megalodon documentary called Megalodon: The New Evidence.

Needless to say, if Shark Week had much scientific credibility before, it lost whatever was left in those two years, and now, it has a rival. NatGeo WILD is now splashing into the cage to challenge Discovery's 27 year lordship over sharks. NatGeo has dubbed their event SharkFest, and they have released this rather tongue-in-cheek ad:

Looking at SharkFest's programming, SharkFest seems to be taking a more serious and educational slant, which I expect from National Geographic. However, with titles like Florida Frenzy, Gulf Coast Killers, Hawaiian Terror, California Killer, and Australia's Deadliest Shark Attacks, I am not so sure education is a main priority. Now, don't get me wrong: shark attack documentaries can be very interesting and educational, but if you focus solely on shark attacks and sensationalism, people will only associate sharks with danger and death.

Horn Shark at La Jolla Shores in San Diego, California, USAA horn shark at La Jolla Shores in San Diego, California, USA.

A horn shark off San Diego, California. Does this guy look dangerous?

Will SharkFest become the new Shark Week? That remains to be seen. I don't even have NatGeo WILD, so unfortunately, I can't even watch it. Guess I'm stuck with Shark Week. Shucks. But, despite all my Shark Week hate, I cannot honestly call Shark Week an utter chumfest. Shark Week does still have a few diamonds among the bloody fish guts. Thanks to Shark Week and the Discovery Channel, we have this video:

Tasmanian Tiger (aka Thylacine)Demonized by farmers, the Tasmanian tiger (thylacine) was hunted to extinction in 1936.

Demonized by farmers, the Tasmanian tiger (thylacine) was hunted to extinction in 1936.

Per the abstract, "the average rate of vertebrate species loss over the last century is up to 114 times higher than the background rate. Under the 2 E/MSY background rate, the number of species that have gone extinct in the last century would have taken, depending on the vertebrate taxon, between 800 and 10,000 years to disappear". As I said in my previous article, after the asteroid hit, the dinosaurs went extinct over the course of 30,000 years. To us, that may seem like a long time, but on the geological timescale, that is an instant.

Cumulative percentage of vertebrates extinct since 1500. (Source.)

In my previous article, I also mentioned that amphibians are in serious peril, since their numbers are declining very rapidly due to a host of reasons, from disease to deforestation. In the chart below (included with the study), you will notice that amphibians at a "very conservative rate", which includes only species verified as "Extinct", have experienced the most dramatic losses.

Years required for vertebrate extinctions in the past 114 years to occur at a normal rate. (Source.)

The study is well worth a read, so if you have some spare time, you should definitely give it a look. If you haven't already clicked on it in one of my hyperlinks above, you can find it here: Accelerated modern human–induced species losses: Entering the sixth mass extinction. Also, here's the original article where I found a link to the study: Earth’s sixth mass extinction has begun, new study confirms. You should check it out, too.

So why is this happening, and why should you care? Well, in the past few centuries alone, hundreds of species have disappeared worldwide, and that should be a cause for alarm. When the asteroid struck at the end of the Cretaceous, the dinosaurs did not vanish right away. They steadily died out over the course of 30,000 years. Since modern humans have only been around for about 50,000 years, 30,000 years may seem like a long time, but on the geological timescale, they are milliseconds. Thus, if you compare today's extinction rate (where a dozen species can go extinct in one day) to past extinction rates, our current extinction rate has reached unprecedented levels. Let's analyze this ecological disaster in greater detail.

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Once common on the US eastern seaboard, the Carolina parakeet disappeared in 1918 due to deforestation.

"The Big Five" Mass Extinctions

Let's turn back the clock a bit and look at previous extinction events. Throughout Earth's 4.6 billion years of existence, extinctions have been a norm. Like the changing of seasons, organisms have appeared and disappeared. When a lake dries up, species disappear. When a volcano erupts, species disappear. When an ice age ends, species disappear. Extinctions are as natural as the transition from fall to winter.

Yet, on occasion, extinctions occur on a massive, global scale, and they are called mass extinctions. So far, there have been five mass extinctions, colloquially known as "the Big Five". Here's a little background on each:

1.) The Ordovician-Silurian Extinction

This was Earth's first mass extinction and the second most devastating. Occurring between 450 and 440 million years ago, 27% of all families, 57% of all genera and 60% to 70% of all species went extinct.

2.) The Late Devonian Extinction

This was the second mass extinction, and it lasted 20 million years. 70% of all species perished during this event. Notably, the a class of armored fish called placoderms disappeared from the world's oceans.

3.) The Permian-Triassic Extinction

Known as "the Great Dying", this was the world's most devastating mass extinction. Compared to this, the extinction of the dinosaurs doesn't even come close. Between 90% and 96% of all species died out, including the trilobites, which had dominated the world's oceans for over 270 million years. As a comparison, dinosaurs ruled the Earth for 165 million years, so the reign (and overthrow) of the trilobites was nothing to scoff at.

4.) The Triassic-Jurassic Extinction

In this event, most of the archosaurs died out in an extinction that killed off 70% to 75% of all species, paving the way for the dinosaurs to dominate the planet.

5.) The Cretaceous-Paleogene Extinction

The most famous (and most recent) of all mass extinctions is the Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction. This extinction event wiped out all non-avian dinosaurs, from Tyrannosaurus to Triceratops. It also eliminated the flying reptiles like the pterosaurs and the marine reptiles like the mosasaurs. Overall, the event caused the extinction of 75% of the world's species.

Humans Enter the Picture

Between the Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction and the rise of humanity, several more extinctions occurred, but they were nowhere near the scale of previous mass extinctions. Once humans gained a foothold, everything changed. Fueled by their big brains and adaptable bodies, humans took the powers of natural selection into their own hands. Never before had a single species so rapidly adapted to the land, the sea, and the air. Never before had a species developed methods of preventing and curing illness and disease. Our adaptations and impact on the planet have been so far-reaching that some scientists and activists have proposed a new epoch: the Anthropocene.

Font-de-Gaume Cro-Magnon artists painting mammoths in Font-de-Gaume by Charles R. Knight, 1920

The Extinction of Pleistocene Megafauna

Despite humanity's triumphs over natural selection, other species fell victim to its throes. When humans migrated out of Africa, they hunted down the massive prehistoric beasts that roamed the ancient lands. Not long after humans expanded, the megafauna began to disappear.

Some scientists speculate that humans' hunting wiped out the Pleistocene megafauna. Yet, others speculate that the changing climate and changing landscapes had a more dramatic effect. Whatever the cause, the majority of megafauna disappeared between the Pleistocene and Holocene epochs. 10,000 years ago, you could see elephants and rhinoceroses on every continent except Australia and Antarctica. Today, Africa and Southeast Asia are their last bastions.

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Ice Age megafauna in prehistoric Spain.

The Collapse of Ecosystems on Fragile Islands

Once humans began building boats, they started crossing oceans and expanding onto islands. This spelled bad news for the native inhabitants. Small and isolated from the rest of the world, islands harbor highly specialized species that have evolved separately from those on large continental landmasses. After all, the unique species on the Galapagos Islands inspired Charles Darwin's theory of evolution.

However, this isolation and specialization led to many island species' downfall. Island ecosystems are like eggshells: they are fragile and can very easily crack under pressure. On islands around the world, tortoises and flightless birds are common residents, and as you might suspect, these animals are not well-equipped to deal with hunting pressures or predation.

Dodo

Less than 100 years after humans arrived in Mauritius, the dodo disappeared.

The tale of the ill-fated dodo is one of the most infamous extinctions. First encountered by Europeans on Mauritius in 1598, the dodo was flightless and readily approached humans. This made the dodo easy prey for hunters and introduced species such as cats and rodents. Less than 100 years after humans arrived on Mauritius, the dodo went extinct.

Yet, the dodo was not alone. After the arrival of humans on various islands around the world, other native species disappeared for good. Here are a few examples:

Wrangel Island

While wooly mammoths went extinct on all the world's continents around 10,000 years ago, they existed on Wrangel Island until 4000 years ago. Their disappearance coincided with the appearance of humans on the island.

New Zealand

Of all island ecosystems affected by human colonization, New Zealand was among the most devastated. Once populated by giant, flightless birds called moas and their equally large predators known as the Haast's eagle, New Zealand lost both the moas and the eagles less than 200 years after the Māori arrived. Even today, New Zealand is still reeling from the effects, which were worsened when European colonists cleared much of the native forests for farmland and introduced predatory animals such as cats and rodents.

Hawaii

Even more devastated by human colonization, Hawaii has been dubbed "the extinction capital of the world". Over half of Hawaii's historically recorded bird species are extinct. Like New Zealand, Hawaii's native species suffered from the introduction of cats and rodents, and they are still suffering today.

Madagascar

Today, Madagascar is known for tiny chameleons and cute lemurs, but long ago, it was also home to gorilla-sized lemurs, cougar-sized fossas, terrestrial crocodiles, and gigantic flightless birds--not unlike New Zealand's moas--called elephant birds. Once humans arrived on Madagascar around 2000 years ago, all of these island giants disappeared.

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The moa disappeared less than 200 years after the Polynesians arrived in New Zealand.

In comparison to the rest of the world, the devastation and collapse of fragile island ecosystems is only a microcosm. The loss of a dodo or a giant lemur does not affect the global environment, but it does demonstrate what can (and is) happening on a grander scale. Even today, introduced species like crazy ants on Christmas Island and brown tree snakes on Guam are ravaging islands and causing even more extinctions.

Causes of the Sixth Mass Extinction

Now, with this brief history of extinctions and humanity fresh in your mind, let's consider the causes for the Sixth Mass Extinction. Do you think humans have played a significant role in the demise of species? Do you think we will lose more species in the future? Well, let's examine the roots behind this issue.

Until the mid-19th Century, people did not hold the preservation of species in high regard. In fact, nobody even believed extinction was possible until the early 19th Century when Georges Cuvier proposed that species can and do go extinct. Mass extinctions were similarly derided. Even Charles Darwin himself scoffed at the idea, believing all extinctions were gradual (and most were). Yet, here we are amid the Sixth Mass Extinction.

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A pile of American bison skulls ready to be ground into fertilizer in the 1870s.

Overhunting and Overfishing

Whether or not humans hunted the Pleistocene megafauna to extinction, we are definitely responsible for overhunting and overfishing species in more recent millennia, especially in the past 4000 years. With the invention of weapons and the advent of commercial fisheries, we developed more effective methods for gathering food and resources, and the Industrial Revolution only exacerbated this. Birds were blasted. Fish were gutted. Bison were butchered. Whales were harpooned. Wolves were slaughtered.

Today, there are more protections in place, but in the less developed parts of the world, the process continues. In Africa and Asia, the last remnants of the megafauna are being decimated. In all oceans, irresponsible commercial fisheries are wiping out fish stocks and ensnaring unwanted marine life. In China, various animals are being collected and abused for medicinal purposes.

1024px-Gyoruifu_seal After decades of overhunting in the early 1900s, the Japanese sea lion went extinct in the 1970s.

Introduced and Invasive Species

Before humans, most animals had no means of crossing oceans. Sure, some could fly, some could cross ice or land bridges, and some could hitch a ride on a piece of driftwood, but those cases were few and far in between. When people started building boats and ships, not only did they carry their livestock and pets, but they also carried stowaways and hitchhikers such as rats and fire ants.

In many cases, the extinction of island species can be attributed to introduced species, rather than the humans themselves. While humans did hunt the dodo, the domestic animals they brought with them were the dodos' ultimate killers. Dogs, cats, pigs, and other animals raided the dodos' nests and competed for food.

Worse yet, some invasive species were intentionally introduced. In Australia in October 1859, an English settler released 24 rabbits for hunting purposes. By the 1920s, there were over 10 billion rabbits in Australia. Since their introduction, the invasive Australian feral rabbits have been eating seedlings, preventing native plants from germinating.

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Originating from South America, the invasive red imported fire ant (RIFA) plagues many countries.

Disease

When a species' population rises, and predators are amiss, disease act as a natural form of population control. Yet, just like deadly, infectious diseases can be transmitted between humans in different countries, they can also be transmitted between species in different continents thanks to human transportation. Right now, we are experiencing massive amphibian die-offs, and diseases are partially to blame. One disease in particular called Chytridiomycosis has had a dramatic effect on amphibian populations worldwide. Seemingly overnight, various frog and toad species have vanished from their native habitats. The crisis is so severe that naturalists are collecting species from the wild and keeping them in captivity in an "ark" of sorts.

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In 1987, 1500 golden toads were counted in Costa Rica. On May 15, 1989, only one male was found (pictured).

Habitat Destruction and Fragmentation

Habitat destruction and fragmentation has been ongoing since the first forests were cleared, the first dams were built, and the first cities were founded. Today, with the propagation of roads and metropolitan areas, it is worse than ever. Lizards crossing roads are flattened into roadkill, and bears shopping for food venture into suburban neighborhoods. With less and less land available, many species are experiencing population reductions.

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While common and adaptable, deer suffer from habitat fragmentation, often leaping across busy roads.

Climate Change

Since the Industrial Revolution, harmful CO2 has been unleashed into the atmosphere via fossil fuels. Today, there is debate over whether or not climate change is real or not. Yet, despite what some people might claim, scientists have proven that climate change is happening, and global temperatures are rising at an ever increasing rate. NASA has an excellent time machine map that demonstrates the changes in temperature, sea ice, and CO2 levels over the past century.

This spike in climate is warming the oceans, and many species will suffer. Coral are among the most vulnerable, since they require very specific water temperatures and do not grow or reproduce quickly. If this trend continues, the world's coral reefs will be reduced to lifeless rock.

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Due to disease and temperature rise, staghorn coral populations have declined by 98%.

Ocean Acidification

Ocean acidification is, by far, one of the most alarming and wide-reaching issues, and it ties into climate change and CO2 emissions. Life on this planet started the seas, and now, the increasingly acidic seas are choking it. 30-40% of carbon dioxide emissions released into the atmosphere dissolve in the oceans, decreasing their pH and increasing their acidity. This is already affecting calcifying organisms such as coral and some plankton (in addition to the warming waters).

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Cephalopods like this reef cuttlefish are highly susceptible to ocean acidification.

Pollution

This one is a no-brainer. Of course, pollution is a factor in the Sixth Mass Extinction. With all of our fossil fuels and products that are "built to last", we did not think about the environmental repercussions. In April 2010, the Deepwater Horizon oil spill caused tremendous damage to underwater ecosystems in the Gulf of Mexico, which has yet to recover. Similarly, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch harbors plastics and other trash. These plastics are eaten by albatrosses and other animals, and the animals subsequently die.

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An industrial port on Virginia's James River. Ports are rife with pollution.

Overpopulation

Of all threats to the natural world, human overpopulation overshadows them all. Even if everyone on Earth drove vehicles with zero emissions and all power was clean and renewable, we'd still need to address population concerns. Since the year 1804, not long after the start of Industrial Revolution, our population has swelled from 1 billion to 7 billion. Over 2 billion people reside in China and India alone. The United States is a distant third with just over 321 million people.

By the year 2040, we are expected to have a population of 9 billion. With less space for arable land and declining fish stocks, one could argue that we are already overpopulated. And, with another 2 million mouths to feed over the next couple decades, the situation will only deteriorate.

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Downtown San Diego, California, USA. City populations worldwide have been climbing.

Conclusion

These issues are just the tip of the melting iceberg. As global climates change, populations rise, and unsustainable hunting and fishing practices continue, the Sixth Mass Extinction will claim even more species. Even if we stopped everything we're doing today and switched to more environmentally conscious practices, we could not halt all the negative effects. The damage has been done, and some of the effects are irreversible.

Yet, it's not all fire and brimstone. Thanks to our current conservation efforts, many species have been saved, and many more are being protected. Species that have become rare or extinct in the wild are generally housed in zoos and aquariums, where they can be bred and reintroduced into the natural habitat.

Even for these deceased taxons, there is hope. With modern technology, we have the power to perform de-extinction, where we use cloning, selective breeding, and other techniques to resurrect extinct species. As Ian Malcom said in Jurassic Park "Life, uh, finds a way".

M106 Spiral Galaxy -NASAM106 Spiral Galaxy -NASA

I haven't published anything on here in a couple weeks, but I am currently working on a rather long and detailed article for your viewing pleasure. In the meantime, I am publishing this. Below is a poem called a sestina, and it's about the creation of the Earth, the evolution of life, and mass extinctions. I wrote this during my senior year of college in Fall 2010. I can't believe it's been nearly five years now. It may not seem like much, since it's not your standard rhyming poem, but if you know anything about sestinas, you will know they are quite difficult to write.

Invented by the troubadour Arnaut Daniel in the 12th Century, sestinas consist of thirty nine lines compiled into six six line stanzas and one three line envoi. The same six words are used to end each line throughout the poem, and they are rotated in a set pattern. Pay very close attention to the words I use at the end of each line. I won't bore you with any more details than that, but if you want to learn more about sestinas the Academy of American Poets has a nice article on the subject.

Genesis

By Teddy Fotiou

CRASH! BOOM! BANG!
Volcanoes erupt on a smoldering sphere;
Steam slips into the atmosphere. Clouds.
Clouds form and drench the molten rocks.
Boiling waters rise and form seas.
The Cosmic Crockpot is brewing. Life. 

Stromatolites grow and harbor prokaryotic life.
And, then, billions of years later: BANG!
Modern invertebrates prowl the seas,
Lurking beneath the depths of the blue sphere.
Blue and white jellyfish form marine clouds;
Sponges and sea squirts cling to sandy rocks.

Pleated trilobites scurry under the rocks,
Hiding from anomalocaridids. Delicate life.
Conical-shelled cephalopods squirt ink in clouds.
Jawless fish dart into the blue. And then: BANG!
Cooksonia stalks sprout from the barren sphere.
Slender-bodied sharks swarm the warm seas.

Dunkleosteus reigns as King of the Seas,
Chasing amphibious fish onto the dry rocks,
The dry rocks on the blue sphere,
Where arthropods remain the sole terrestrial animal life.
Spade-tailed amphibians waddle after them, and BANG!
Reptiles rule the land, and dragonflies obscure the clouds.

Lumbering synapsids dominate but perish in dust clouds,
When the Great Dying purifies the land and the seas,
Reaping 83% of life in a horrendous BANG!
But, from death, come the dinosaurs, roaming the rocks,
Hunting the forests, and roving the plains. New life.
Pangaea splits, and its pieces move across the sphere.

A massive asteroid approaches the sphere,
Splashing into the sea and filling the sky with clouds.
The clouds obscure the sun and massacre most life.
Once again, the Cosmic Reaper robs life from land and seas,
And the dinosaurs are no more. Their bones become rocks.
And it’s all because of the asteroid that hit with a BANG!

But the cycle continues, and life recovers on the land and in the seas.
Mammals emerge from under the ash clouds and molten rocks,
And they gaze up at the bright yellow sphere. BANG! 

Some camouflaged animals are more obvious than others, especially to us humans because we more easily recognize patterns, but there are many animals that you wouldn't even notice, even if you were looking for them. In the pictures below, you will see many wonderful examples of camouflage (especially crypsis) in action. I photographed all of these animals myself in their natural environments. Some of these animals are prey; some are predators; and some are both. Can you tell which is which? Why do you think they have their current adaptations? Would you have noticed all of them?

Reef Cuttlefish (Sepia latimanus)Reef cuttlefish (Sepia latimanus) on Agincourt Reef on the Great Barrier Reef. Cuttlefish are masters of disguise.

Reef cuttlefish (Sepia latimanus) on the Great Barrier Reef. Cuttlefish are masters of disguise.

Beaked Gecko (Rhynchoedura ornata) A beaked gecko (Rhynchoedura ornata) hugging the sand in the Australian Outback.

A beaked gecko (Rhynchoedura ornata) hugging the sand in the Australian Outback.

Fanbelly Leatherjacket (Monacanthus chinensis) You'd hardly notice this fanbelly leatherjacket (Monacanthus chinensis) off Rockingham, Western Australia.

You'd hardly notice this fanbelly leatherjacket (Monacanthus chinensis) off Rockingham, Western Australia.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus)A female white-tailed (Odocoileus virginianus) in Newport News, Virginia, USA. Her brown coat blends in well with the brown grass and trees.

A female white-tailed deer in Newport News, Virginia, USA blends in well with the brown grass and trees.

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A great white shark countershaded against the dark blue waters off South Australia's Neptune Islands.

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A crab spider species waits for prey on a buttercup in Newport News, Virginia, USA.

Leopard Flounder (Bothus pantherinus)A leopard flounder (Bothus pantherinus) camouflaged against the sandy seafloor at the North Shore of O'ahu, Hawaii, USA.

A leopard flounder (Bothus pantherinus) at the North Shore of O'ahu, Hawaii, USA.

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A very leaf-like lesser angle-winged katydid (Microcentrum retinerve) in Newport News, Virginia, USA.

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The horn shark's floppy fins sway in the current like kelp at La Jolla Shores in San Diego, California, USA.

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On the other side of the pond in Sydney, Australia, a spotted wobbegong looks even more kelp-like.

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A pair of great horned owlets are barely noticeable in the trees in Hampton, Virginia, USA.

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Weeping blowfish (Torquigener pleurogramma) at Ammo Jetty near Perth, Western Australia.

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Slant-faced grasshopper (Acrida sp.) in Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

Bluespotted Stingray (Neotrygon kuhlii) A bluespotted stingray (Neotrygon kuhlii) brandishing its venomous tail-barb on the Great Barrier Reef.

A bluespotted stingray (Neotrygon kuhlii) brandishing its venomous tail-barb on the Great Barrier Reef.

Fowler's Toad (Anaxyrus fowleri)A well-hidden Fowler's toad in the leaf litter in Newport News, Virginia, USA. Can you find this camouflaged toad?

A well-hidden Fowler's toad in the leaf litter in Newport News, Virginia, USA.

Sea Slug SpeciesAn unidentified sea slug species at Manly Beach in Sydney, Australia.

An unidentified sea slug species at Manly Beach in Sydney, Australia.

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A metallic wood-boring beetle species in Newport News, Virginia, USA.

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A Roth's treefrog (Litoria rothi) near Kakadu National Park in Australia's Northern Territory.

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A flathead (Platycephalus sp.) in the Swan River in Perth, Western Australia.

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A pair of peaceful doves feeding among the grass in Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

Tiny Spidercrab Under Sea AnemoneA tiny spidercrab beneath the stinging tentacles of a sea anemone in the Swan River in Perth, Western Australia.

A tiny spidercrab beneath the stinging tentacles of a sea anemone in Perth, Western Australia.

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A saltwater crocodile looking very log-like in Australia's Daintree Rainforest.

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A grasshopper species among the red sand and rocks of Uluru in Australia's Northern Territory.

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An eastern fence lizard (Sceloporus undulatus) on a fallen tree in Newport News, Virginia, USA.

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A mudskipper (Periophthalmus sp.) wallowing in muck in Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

Other Awesome Animal Articles

Mudskippers: Fish That Can Walk on Land

Walking with Dinosaurs: The Cassowaries of Etty Bay

My Top 20 Wildlife Photos (So Far)

8 Cool Clownfish Facts

Marsh Periwinkle (Littoraria irrorata): The Fungi-Farming Sea Snail

Millipede (Narceus americanus)Narceus americanus is, perhaps, the most common millipede species in eastern North America. They can attain a length of 4 inches. When threatened, they will curl up into a ball and/or secrete a noxious liquid that causes harmless skin discoloration. At lengths of up to 4 inches (100mm), Narceus americanus is the largest millipede in North America.

First off, centipedes ("100 feet") have fewer legs, although they don't always have 100 of them, and millipedes ("1000 feet") have more legs, but no known millipedes species has anywhere near a thousand. But that's just scratching the surface. On top of that, centipedes have one pair of legs (two legs) on each segment of their bodies while millipedes have two pairs of legs (four legs) on each segment.

CentipedeA centipede scuttles across the Australian Outback.

Up to 6.3 inches (16 cm), the giant centipede (Ethmostigmus rubripes) is Australasia's largest centipede.

So that's it, right? They just look a little different? Nope. They also behave differently. Centipedes move very quickly and are primarily carnivorous. To attack and disable their prey, they possess a a pair of modified, venomous claws called forcipules, which are located on their heads. Millipedes, on the other hand, move rather slowly and are primarily detritivores, which means they eat dead plant and animal matter. While they lack venom, they secrete noxious (and occasionally dangerous) chemicals like hydrogen cyanide from microscopic holes in their bodies called ozopores.

IMG_0357 Like most myriapods, Narceus americanus prefers inhabiting dark, moist areas, such as under logs.

Thus, those are the basic differences between centipedes and millipedes. In short, the centipedes are fast, venomous predators with fewer legs, and the millipedes are slower, odorous scavengers with more legs.

"The gentle and pensive maiden has the power to tame the unicorn", Domenico Zampieri, c. 1602"The gentle and pensive maiden has the power to tame the unicorn", Domenico Zampieri, c. 1602 The gentle and pensive maiden has the power to tame the unicorn, Domenico Zampieri, c. 1602

Unicorn Physiology

For the most part, the common unicorn resembles a horse; however, there is one major difference. The unicorn has a single, spiraled horn, which is fused to the rostrum. This makes positive identification of unicorns in the field slightly less challenging.

Of the unicorn Unicorn woodcut featured in The history of four-footed beasts and serpents (1658) by Edward Topsell

According to 13th Century explorer Marco Polo, unicorns are "scarcely smaller than elephants. They have the hair of a buffalo and feet like an elephant's. They have a single large black horn in the middle of the forehead... They have a head like a wild boar's… They spend their time by preference wallowing in mud and slime. They are very ugly brutes to look at. They are not at all such as we describe them when we relate that they let themselves be captured by virgins, but clean contrary to our notions." Source.

Professional Tip: Unicorns are very self-conscious animals, so we must consider their feelings. When Marco Polo published his travel memoir in 1300, the unicorns were outraged, and since then, they have scarcely been sighted. So, if you want to see a unicorn, you should never, ever offend them.

Where to Find Them

Unicorns come and go as they please, so it's difficult to pinpoint their range. They prefer temperate, forested areas, so you will probably not have much luck finding one in the tropics or polar regions. If you see a rainbow, there is a very good chance a unicorn is nearby.

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Wild woman with unicorn, c. 1500–1510

How to Attract Them

Traditionally, attracting a unicorn required a virgin woman. Famed artist and scientist Leonardo da Vinci wrote in his notebook: "The unicorn, through its intemperance and not knowing how to control itself, for the love it bears to fair maidens forgets its ferocity and wildness; and laying aside all fear it will go up to a seated damsel and go to sleep in her lap, and thus the hunters take it." Source.

Today, with our modern technology, we can replicate the scent and sounds of a virgin and use trailcams and camera traps to monitor unicorn activity. Prior to this, only a handful of unicorns had been documented in the wild. Now, scientists have learned more about unicorns than ever before.

Professional Tip: As a secondary method, you can also attract unicorns with freshly baked cupcakes and pumpkin spice lattes. They are the unicorn's favorite prey items.

Unicorn Exploitation

If you find a wild unicorn, I recommend keeping its location a secret. Historically, unicorns have been hunted and exploited for various purposes, and that is part of the reason they are so rare today. Whenever hunters and poachers hear about a unicorn, they will not hesitate to capture it for a zoo or kill it and mount it as a trophy. A cage or pen is no place for these mystical beasts and neither is a rack over someone's fireplace.
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The Unicorn Is Penned, Unicorn Tapestries, c. 1495–1505

In case you didn't get the hint from the beginning, this was all just an April Fool's joke. I will note, however, that Marco Polo and Leonardo da Vinci did actually say those things, but Marco Polo was talking about rhinos in India, and da Vinci was talking about the symbolism behind unicorns. Thanks for reading!

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Virginia Partridges (Bobwhites) and Red-Shouldered Hawk - Plate 76

When famed artist and naturalist John James Audubon published his master work The Birds of America, he revolutionized ornithology, documenting all known bird species in North America as well as 25 new species and 12 new subspecies. From 1827 to 1838, he gradually published his 435 images in the United Kingdom for the viewing pleasure of wealthy subscribers (sort of like an old school blog). Over the next couple centuries, his work would influence millions of naturalists worldwide, including Charles Darwin, who quoted him three times in On the Origin of Species and later works.

John James Audubon - PortraitA portrait of famed naturalist and artist John James Audubon.

Portrait of John James Audubon. Audubon used his rifle to shoot the birds he depicted.

Yes, it's true that Audubon did shoot and kill just about all the birds he depicted and used wires to set them up in lifelike positions, and yes, that does seem counterproductive to conservation. But, at that time, cameras weren't nearly as advanced or widespread, and telephoto lenses were just a dream. Back then, you'd have no chance of capturing all the details of a wild bird without scaring it away. Wildlife shots were literally wildlife shots.

Having said that, thanks to Audubon's impressive efforts over the course of 18 years, he changed the way we view nature. Prior to the publication of The Birds of America, depictions of animals had been static, rigid, and somewhat uninspiring. Audubon's predecessor Alexander Wilson, who was dubbed the "Father of American Ornithology", followed the old style of depicting wildlife, which you can see in the print below.

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Oiseaux from Alexander Wilson's American Ornithology.

For identification purposes, Wilson's work was great. However, outside of that, his prints were not too exciting. Today, the equivalent would be a wildlife photo where the animal is in focus and all the features are identifiable, but there is nothing particularly creative or memorable about the shot. (I have my share of those.)

In this regard, Audubon was very different. His prints had character. They not only depicted easily identifiable birds, but they depicted their behavior. Have a look for yourself at the prints below.
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Painted Finch (Painted Bunting) - Plate 53

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Blue Jay  - Plate 102

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Whip-poor-will - Plate 82

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Little Screech Owl (Eastern Screech Owl) - Plate 97

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Hairy, Red-Bellied, Red-Shafted, Lewis', and Red-Breasted Woodpeckers - Plate 416

As you can see, Audubon's work contrasts starkly from Wilson's. Even though he rendered his subjects based on dead models, he positioned them in lifelike stances. He shows them feeding, preening, and communicating. To accurately portray these scenes, he ventured out in the field and spent countless hours observing their behavior. In the next few prints, you will see some of his depictions of birds' nests and the birds' nesting behavior, which was wholly unprecedented.

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Marsh Wren - Plate 100

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American Robin - Plate 131

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Barn Swallow - Plate 173

When painting some nests, Audubon added drama, wherein hungry snakes scaled branches and limbs to feast on eggs and birds alike. These depictions of realistic predation were also unprecedented, and they captured animal behavior in ways no other naturalist had before. In the print below, and eastern rat snake raids a brown thrasher nest.

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Ferruginous Thrush (Brown Thrasher) - Plate 116

His other nest-raiding snake print was particularly controversial. In this print, he depicted a timber rattlesnake attacking a mockingbird nest. Enemies of Audbon were quick to pounce upon this fantastical behavior. "Rattlesnakes don't climb trees!" they moaned. Yet, today, we know that rattlesnakes can and occasionally do climb trees.

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Mocking Bird - Plate 21

Of course, with all these snakes eating birds, Audbon had to include the reverse: a bird eating a snake, which you can see in the print below.

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Swallow-Tailed Hawk - Plate 72

In fact, he depicted a variety of raptorial birds catching and eating different prey items. He had ospreys and eagles catching fish; he had owls chasing and eating rodents; and he had hawks and falcons chasing and eating birds and mammals. Today, these prints are impressive, but back then, they were mind-blowing.

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Fish Hawk or Osprey - Plate 81

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White-Headed Eagle (Bald Eagle) - Plate 31

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Barn Owl - Plate 171

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Great-Footed Hawk (Peregrine Falcon) - Plate 16

Notably, Audubon's work also included bird species that are now extinct or on the brink of extinction. Species such as the great auk, the Carolina parakeet, and the passenger pigeon no longer exist today. In 1852, just a year after Audubon's death, the great auk went extinct, although the last breeding pair (and egg) was killed in 1844 while he still drew breath.

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Great Auk (Extinct 1852) - Plate 341

The passenger pigeon and the Carolina parakeet, would disappear from American skies over half a century later. Their stories are just as captivating and saddening as that of the great auk, but I will discuss them in more detail in later blog posts.

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Passenger Pigeon (Extinct 1914) - Plate 62

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Carolina Parrot/Parakeet (Extinct 1918) - Plate 26

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Ivory-Billed Woodpecker (Critically Endangered, Possibly Extinct) - Plate 66

After viewing the sad prints above, here's some happier prints for your viewing pleasure. Isn't the Internet awesome?

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Ruby-Throated Hummingbird - Plate 47

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Cardinal Grosbeak (Northern Cardinal) - Plate 159

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American Flamingo - Plate 431

The Birds of America is among the world's most expensive books, and one of the 119 complete copies was sold in London for $10.3 million. As you can see from these beautiful prints, there's a good reason behind the high value. If you're interested in downloading the wonderful prints, the National Audubon Society has fully restored them, and they are available here. Currently, I am in the process of compiling all of these prints, so I can make a new gallery here on my site, so if you're interested in seeing them in a more viewable format, check back here in a couple weeks.

Like birds? Check out these other bird-brimmed articles:

Walking with Dinosaurs: The Cassowaries of Etty Bay

The Loud, Smart, and Beautiful Cockatoos of Australia

1. There are 30 species of clownfish

First off, there are 30 species of clownfish, and not all of them resemble the clownfish you may know. In Finding Nemo, Marlin and Nemo are ocellaris clownfish, which are also known as false percula clownfish or common clownfish. Yet, as common as they are, I do not have any decent ocellaris clownfish photos, BUT I do have photos of a variety of other clownfish species that you probably didn't even know about! Check out the cinnamon clownfish below. A beautiful name for a beautiful fish!

Cinnamon Clownfish (Amphiprion melanopus)A cinnamon clownfish hiding in an anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

A cinnamon clownfish (Amphiprion melanopus) in a bubble-tip anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

2. They are protected by a thick mucus layer

Clownfish are famous for their special, symbiotic relationship with sea anemones. They protect the anemone from predators and parasites, and they anemone does the same. But why can they live so happily within the clutches of a creature that could easily kill and eat another fish of the same size? Well, the majority of fish are covered in mucus for osmoregulation, protection from parasites, and streamlining, but clownfish take it a step further. Their mucus coat is three to four times thicker than that of other fish, and scientists speculate that it is sugar-based rather than protein-based, preventing the anemone from indentifying them as food. Additionally, clownfish will rub themsevles up against the tentacles of a new host anemone to develop an immunity to its sting. In this manner, the clownfish are protected from the anemone's deadly, venomous nematocysts (tiny, harpoon-like stinging cells), and they can swim in and out of the tentacles with ease. DSC04830-5

A barrier reef anemonefish (Amphiprion akindynos) in an anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

3. They are compatible with only 10 species of sea anemone

Despite the symbiotic relationship between clownfish and anemones and the moniker "anemonefish", clownfish cannot set up shop in any anemone they choose. There are over 100 species of sea anemone in the ocean; yet, of these 100 species, clownfish are only compatible with 10 of them, and of these 10, only select species of clownfish are compatible with select species of anemones. Clark's anemonefish is one of the few species that is compatible with all 10 clownfish-hosting anemones. For a little more information about the anemones, here's a list of the 10 clownfish-hosting anemone species.

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A pink skunk clownfish (Amphiprion perideraion) hovering over an anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

4. They are omnivores

Clownfish are omnivorous, which means they like a bit of salad to go with their meat. They dine on both zooplankton (small animals floating in the water column) and algae. They also eat parasites that are harassing their anemone host, and they feed on any scraps the anemone leaves behind. Once again, both clownfish and anemone benefit, which is a defining feature of a symbiotic relationship.

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A barrier reef anemonefish (Amphiprion akindynos) in a bubble-tip anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

5. Their poop provides nutrients for their host anemone

Speaking of eating, clownfish produce a lot of waste, but their waste does not go to waste. Their poop provides nutrients for the anemone, and its nitrogen content increases the amount of algae growing within the anemone's tissue, which aids in the anemone's growth and regeneration. The clownfish's movements around the anemone also improves water circulation, increasing the anemone's body size and improving respiration for both anemone and clownfish. Who knew poop could be so powerful?

DSC04929 Yes, clownfish poop. A Clark's anemonefish (Amphiprion clarkii) defecating in Beqa Lagoon, Fiji.

6. They are good parents

In a single anemone, there is one dominant female and multiple males. However, most of the males are juvenile and are too small to breed. Only one male, the dominant male, can breed with the female. Depending on the female's size, she will lay anywhere from 600 to 1500 eggs, but that is where her parental duties end. Unlike most animals, clownfish parental responsibilities rest upon the male's shoulders, er, fins. When he does, he cares for the eggs by fanning and guarding them for 6 to 10 days until they hatch.

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A maroon clownfish (Premnas biaculeatus) in a bubble-tip anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

7. They can change their sex

Now, here's a fun fact about clownfish that's not exactly "family friendly" and was not covered by Finding Nemo: all clownfish are born male. So how do a bunch of dudes create a bunch of little Nemos? Well, they use a rather...unconventional strategy. Remember that dominant female I mentioned in #6? She was once a he. Yes, that's right; clownfish can change their sex. When the dominant female dies, the dominant male changes his sex and becomes the new dominant female. In turn, the largest juvenile male rapidly increases in size and become the new dominant male. Meanwhile, all the other males are candidates for future dominant male and, later, future dominant female. Really changes your outlook on Finding Nemo, huh?

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A female Clark's anemonefish (Amphiprion clarkii) with a much smaller male in Beqa Lagoon, Fiji.

8. They make up 43% of saltwater aquarium fish

Last but not least, clownfish are unsurprisingly among the most coveted and traded of all saltwater aquarium fish, and they make up 43% of the the global marine ornamental trade, along with their close relatives the damselfish. They were one of the first popular saltwater aquarium species to be aquacultured and have been bred for over 40 years. The release of Finding Nemo in 2003 saw a serious uptick in clownfish sales, and I expect the release of Finding Dory in 2016 will cause another spike in clownfish sales in the coming years.

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A barrier reef anemonefish (Amphiprion akindynos) in a bubble-tip anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

So that's the clownfish: the tropical, anemone-hugging transvestite. For more information about clownfish and sea anemones, please check out Wikipedia, Animal-World, and Ask Nature. Thanks for reading!

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Western blue-tongued skink (Tiliqua occipitalis) in the Outback near Shark Bay, Western Australia.

If you’ve seen a small lizard sunbathing on your porch or darting into the bushes, chances are, you’ve seen a skink. Skinks are a widespread and diverse family of lizards that you can find on all continents except Antarctica. But, in Australia, you will encounter some of the largest and most impressive skinks of all: the blue-tongues.
Now, obviously, blue-tongues received their names from their tongues, which they flick from their mouths to frighten enemies. Yet, despite this aggressive display, they are harmless. They may bite, but unlike other Australia reptiles, they certainly aren’t venomous, and they are popular pets.

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Western blue-tongued skink (Tiliqua occipitalis) in the Outback near Shark Bay, Western Australia.

Apart from their tongues, blue-tongues have a variety of other defining features. They have broad heads and flat, chubby bodies, and they have stubby limbs, so they cannot move very quickly. They also have pointed, tapering tails, typical of lizards, but there is an exception. One blue-tongue species, known as the bobtail or shingleback, has a round, stumpy tail. This tail contains fat reserves, which allow it to hibernate through the winter. The tail may also confuse predators, since it resembles the bobtail’s head.

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Bobtail skink (Tiliqua rugosa) on a farm near Bullsbrook, Western Australia.

Blue-tongues have another unique characteristic: they are viviparous. This means the young develop within the mother’s body, and the mother blue-tongue gives birth to live young, rather than laying eggs like other reptiles. Pretty cool, huh?

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An eastern blue-tongued skink (Tiliqua scincoides scincoides) I found in a park in Brisbane, Queensland.

If you want to find a wild blue-tongue, you’ll generally encounter them in the bush or Outback, but you can find some species in cities and suburbs as well. For best results, though, you should scan roads and roadsides. Here, blue-tongues capitalize on the heat stored in the asphalt, and they are very easy to spot.

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Bobtail skink (Tiliqua rugosa) on a road in South Australia. Possibly injured.

However, as you can imagine, roads are not the safest place for lizards. With cars speeding across Australian highways at speeds of 110 kilometers an hour or more (that’s 68 miles per hour for my fellow Americans), they are common roadkill victims. If you see a blue-tongue on or near the road, please stop, pick it up, and move it a safe distance from the road. But, please, bear your own safety in mind, or you’ll become roadkill yourself!

For more information about blue-tongued skinks, please visit Wikipedia and bluetongueskinks.net. Thanks for reading!

Western Grey Kangaroo (Macropus fuliginosus)A western grey kangaroo posing for me on the beach at Lucky Bay in Cape Le Grande National Park near Esperance, Western Australia. A western gray kangaroo posing for me on the beach at Lucky Bay near Esperance, Western Australia.

Cinnamon Clownfish (Amphiprion melanopus)Cinnamon clownfish (Amphiprion melanopus) hiding in an anemone on the Great Barrier Reef. A cinnamon clownfish hiding in an anemone on the Great Barrier Reef.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus carolinensis)A pair of osprey fledglings in their nest on the York River in Gloucester County, VA, USA. A pair of osprey fledglings in their nest on the York River in Gloucester County, VA, USA.

Saltwater Crocodile (Crocodylus porosus)A saltwater crocodile resting on the banks of Cooper's Creek in Cape Tribulation, QLD, Australia. A saltwater crocodile resting on the banks of Cooper's Creek in Cape Tribulation, QLD, Australia.

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)A female southern cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) gazing across the Coral Sea in Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

A female southern cassowary gazing across the Coral Sea at dusk at Etty Bay, QLD, Australia.

Australian Sea Lions (Neophoca cinerea)Australian sea lions playing in the Indian Ocean off Green Head, Western Australia.

Australian sea lions playing in the Indian Ocean off Green Head, Western Australia.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus)A white-tailed deer fawn in Newport News Park in Newport News, VA, USA. A white-tailed deer fawn in Newport News Park in Newport News, VA, USA.

Red Slate Pencil Urchin (Heterocentrotus mamillatus)A red slate pencil urchin off Koko Head, Oʻahu, Hawaii, USA. A red slate pencil urchin off Koko Head, Oʻahu, Hawaii, USA.

Koala (Phascolarctos cinereus)A lazy koala on a lazy afternoon at Magnetic Island off Townsville, QLD, Australia.

A lazy koala on a lazy afternoon at Magnetic Island off Townsville, QLD, Australia.

New Zealand Fur Seal (Arctocephalus forsteri)A New Zealand fur seal pup on the Otago Peninsula near Dunedin, New Zealand.

A New Zealand fur seal pup on the Otago Peninsula near Dunedin, New Zealand.

Spotted Wobbegong (Orectolobus maculatus)A spotted wobbegong resting on the seafloor at Manly Beach near Sydney, NSW, Australia.

A spotted wobbegong resting on the seafloor at Manly Beach near Sydney, NSW, Australia.

Little Corella (Cacatua sanguinea)An acrobatic little corella in Tom Price, Western Australia near Karijini National Park.

An acrobatic little corella in Tom Price, Western Australia.

Snail SpeciesAn unidentified snail species eating fungi in Newport News Park in Newport News, VA, USA.

An unidentified snail species eating fungi in Newport News Park in Newport News, VA, USA.

Western Blue-Tongued Skink (Tiliqua occipitalis)A western blue-tongued skink near Shark Bay, Western Australia.

A western blue-tongued skink near Shark Bay, Western Australia.

Eastern Ratsnake (Pantherophis alleghaniensis)While strolling through the woods of Newport News Park in Virginia, USA, I stumbled upon this eastern ratsnake reclining inside a tree. Its eye is cloudy, which suggests it is about to shed. Rat snakes are excellent climbers and commonly invade bird nests, where they devour the eggs or hatchlings. Because of this, many people despise them and kill them on sight. It is cruel and unnecessary, but our culture has spent thousands of years proclaiming that snakes are evil vermin. Even Indiana Jones fears them.

An eastern rat snake sleeping in a tree in Newport News Park in Newport News, VA, USA.

Stinkbug SpeciesAn unidentified stinkbug species in the Cattana Wetlands near Cairns, QLD, Australia.

An unidentified stinkbug species in the Cattana Wetlands near Cairns, QLD, Australia.

Harlequin Darner (Gomphaeschna furcillata) A harlequin darner dragonfly flying in First Landing State Park, Virginia Beach, VA, USA.

A harlequin darner dragonfly flying in First Landing State Park, Virginia Beach, VA, USA.

Eastern Red Scorpionfish (Scorpaena cardinalis)An eastern red scorpionfish yawning on the Poor Knights Islands, New Zealand.

An eastern red scorpionfish on the Poor Knights Islands, New Zealand.

Thorny Devil (Moloch horridus)A thorny devil wandering the Outback at Uluru (Ayers Rock), NT, Australia.

A thorny devil wandering the Outback at Uluru (Ayers Rock), NT, Australia.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus carolinensis)A mother osprey shading her chicks on the York River in Gloucester County, VA, USA.

A mother osprey shading her chicks on the York River in Gloucester County, VA, USA.

Now, you may be wondering: how does one encounter a dinosaur in the 21st Century? A valid question, of course, but have a look at this photo of mine and see for yourself:

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

I think I saw this movie once...

Now, compare it to the oviraptor illustration below: Nomingia gobiensisNomingia gobiensis, an extinct species of oviraptor. Nomingia gobiensis, a species of oviraptor. (Not related to velociraptor.)

The resemblance is uncanny. Of course, the critter in the photo is not actually a dinosaur. It's a flightless bird called a cassowary, which I'm sure you've heard about, if you've watched any documentary about Australian wildlife. Having said that, a cassowary could easily pass for a prehistoric beast. The blood-red eyes, the tall head-crest (called a casque on cassowaries), and I mean, look at its feet!

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

You really don't want to piss this guy off!

According to American ornithologist Ernest Thomas Gilliard, "The inner or second of the three toes is fitted with a long, straight, murderous nail which can sever an arm or eviscerate an abdomen with ease. There are many records of natives being killed by this bird". Hm. That doesn't sound very pleasant. Why does everything in Australia need to be deadly?

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia. Oh, God! It's intentionally blocking my path to First Aid! Next thing you know, they'll be able to open doors!

Yet, despite these obvious warning signs, I decided to hunt this mythical beast. Cassowaries are among the most captivating Australian animals; yet, they are also among the the rarest. In northeastern Australia, a little over 2,500 remain in the wild, and the population is declining. Like the dinosaurs, the cassowary is on a path to extinction.

Cassowary Road SignA cassowary road sign in the Daintree Rainforest, Queensland, Australia.

With cassowary populations in decline, how relevant will this sign be in 20 years?

Okay. Now that we are a bit familiarized with the cassowary, let me give you a little backstory in my quest for this elusive bird. When I first arrived in Far North Queensland in April 2013, I had many goals. Finding a wild cassowary was one of them. Naively, I assumed that, once I ventured into the cassowary's native range and explored its known haunts, I would inevitably find one. I was wrong.

I started in the Daintree Rainforest. That's where cassowaries are most common, right? On my first expedition from Cairns to the Daintree, I stayed at a motel. Outside reception, a statue of a cassowary loomed, and I knew I had reached the right place. I talked to the motel owner and asked her about cassowaries.

"Cassowaries!" she said excitedly, as if she'd just seen one. "Yes, a male came here with his chicks every day. Some other photographers were looking for them here. They looked all over the forest and didn't find anything. When they came back and told me what they were looking for, I just pointed to the cassowaries right by my motel!"

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I can't wait to see him! When does he usually come?"

"Oh," said the motel owner, frowning, "he's dead. Got hit by a car."

This did not bode well, but I figured there would be more lurking in the forest. I asked her a few more questions, and she handed me a map. She marked off a number of locations where cassowaries had been sighted, and I was off on my quest. I hiked up and down the roads, inspecting the dense rainforest on each side. Two hours later, I had still found nothing.

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No cassowaries in sight.

The next day, I went up to Cape Tribulation. I'd seen a YouTube video of a cassowary on the beach up there and was determined to find it. I prowled the beach and scoured the fringes of the rainforest, searching for the elusive, dino-birds. Yet, a day later, still no luck. I hadn't even SEEN a cassowary, so photographing one was out-of-the-question. I returned to Cairns, defeated, and began researching other locations known to harbor cassowaries.

Kuranda was next on my list. In my extensive research (i.e. Google), I found a place there called Cassowary House. With a name like that, surely, cassowaries would be flocking to its doorsteps and sipping afternoon tea. I drove up to Kuranda and visited Cassowary House.

The owners were pleasant but somewhat unenthused that I had arrived to see cassowaries but had no intention of staying overnight as a paying customer. They told me that a National Geographic film crew had recently been filming a documentary there, and the cassowaries had been appearing around 4:00 consistently for the past few weeks. I still had an hour to kill, so they advised me to investigate a trail just down the road. When the cassowaries came, I could catch them on the way to Cassowary House. Excited, I thanked them and hurried to trail.

On the trail, I searched, and I searched. The cassowaries could appear at any moment! I waited breathlessly in the lush rainforest, feeling like a true, professional nature photographer. I checked the time. 3:40. The cassowaries couldn't be far away now! Yet, the most noteworthy photograph I captured on that rainforest trail was this:

IMG_2455 Ah, yes. The wild couch in its natural environment.

But I wasn't about to give up yet! It was almost 4:00, and the cassowaries were surely nearing Cassowary House. I scrambled back. Throngs of photographers were gathered near the rainforest. This was a very good sign. Yet, as I approached, the photographers began to disperse.

"Hey, there!" shouted one of the owners. "You just missed them! The cassowaries were here just a moment ago. They were early today!"

Damn. Just my luck. I asked her if she knew of any other places to find cassowaries. She recommended a place called Etty Bay, an hour south of Cairns. She told me that's where she sends all the film crews, when they don't have much luck at Cassowary House.

A few days later, I drove down to Etty Bay, and I asked a local restaurant owner if she knew about any cassowaries. She said they would come almost every day and nearly walk inside her restaurant, but she could never predict when they'd arrive. I thanked her and headed to the beach, where I hunkered down with my gear on a picnic table. There, I waited. Hours passed. Nothing. I had expected that. I shrugged and left to explore the Atherton Tablelands.

Over the next few months, I revisited the Daintree and Kuranda, since the second or third time can be a charm in wildlife photography. I still had no luck. So I decided to return to Etty Bay one more time. This time, I arrived in the morning and waited around until the afternoon.

In the afternoon, a bus full of Japanese tourists arrived. They emerged from the bus wielding cameras of all shapes and sizes. I wasn't sure whether to be delighted or horrified. The tour guide sauntered down to the beach, carrying a camera of his own, and we started talking. He mentioned that the cassowaries here often came out in the afternoon, and they would stick around for a long time. Surely, this could be my lucky day.

Not long after he mentioned the cassowaries, a male and his chick emerged from the rainforest and came down a grassy hill. This was it. After five months, I had finally found my prize. I readied my cameras and started shooting.

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Male cassowaries, not females, care for the eggs and chicks.

Amazingly, even with a chick, this cassowary did not show any signs of aggression. He had become accustomed to people, and I could stand right next to him and collect photos and footage without worrying about being eviscerated. This behavior drastically contrasted everything I had heard about cassowaries. These Etty Bay cassowaries were not killer birds with a knack for terrorizing humans. These were gentle, awe-inspiring creatures.

Southern Cassowaries (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) male and chick at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

Male cassowary feeding on fruit as his chick stands nearby.

But that wasn't all. The show was just getting started. After thirty minutes or so, another cassowary appeared. This one was a female, and that wasn't good. Everyone on the beach was worried that she might become aggressive, since females have been known to kill chicks on sight.

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

Male cassowary gazes across the beach at Etty Bay.

When the male saw the female, he and the chick immediately gave her a wide berth. They hung around for another five or ten minutes, but soon enough, they left and went back up the hill, disappearing into the rainforest. Meanwhile, the female stayed behind, feasting upon the remaining morsels of fruit lying on the ground. Of course, I was still taking photos and filming. In addition to my photos, here's the footage I gathered:

On that glorious day, I was like a dog in a tennis ball shop. I couldn't believe that, after so much terrible luck, I was privileged enough to see not one, not two, but three cassowaries in the same place at the same time. The moral of the story: don't give up. This is especially applicable to wildlife photography, where your subjects are fickle and unpredictable. You can have several unsuccessful expeditions, and then, bam! You strike gold and shoot photos like this:

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

Female cassowary patrols the beach at Etty Bay.

That evening, I watched the sun set, standing next to a remnant of the Mesozoic era. This is one of the rarest birds in the world, and after many months of searching, I had finally found it in the most unexpected location. I had not found it within the remote and unpopulated Daintree nor in the photographer's paradise at Cassowary House. No. I'd found it among the throngs of people on the beach of Etty Bay. Sometimes, I wonder if that female cassowary was thinking as she stood on the beach and gazed out into the Coral Sea. I like to think she was.

Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius)Southern Cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) at Etty Bay, Queensland, Australia.

This is probably one my best photos...ever.

Believe it or not, the BBC contacted me in December 2014 to request using a few short clips from my cassowary YouTube video in Episode One of a documentary series called Nature's Weirdest Events - Series 4. Obviously, I said, "Yes", especially since I have been a long-time admirer of BBC's documentaries. But that's another story altogether.

Like birds? Check out these other bird-brimmed articles:

The Loud, Smart, and Beautiful Cockatoos of Australia

The Magnificent Artwork of John James Audubon

Koala (Phascolarctos cinereus)Koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) in a eucalyptus tree on Magnetic Island in Queensland, Australia. Koalas are sometimes called “koala bears”, but despite their teddy bear-like appearance, they are not bears at all; they are marsupials, just like kangaroos and wombats, and they raise their young in a pouch. They inhabit eastern Australia, from Queensland to New South Wales to Victoria to South Australia.

Now, although koalas resemble bears, they act more like sloths than any other mammal. They are sluggish and spend most of their days lounging in trees, eating and sleeping. Yet, they are even LAZIER than sloths. While sloths typically spend about 10 hours a day sleeping, koalas spend 20 hours a day sleeping! And, on top of that, they only spend about 4 minutes a day in active movement! This does not count eating, of course: koalas spend every other waking moment eating.

Koala (Phascolarctos cinereus)Koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) in a eucalyptus tree on Magnetic Island in Queensland, Australia. So why do koalas need to eat and sleep so much? As you may know, koalas dine primarily on eucalyptus. Eucalyptus has low nutritional value, yields very little energy, and (here’s the kicker) is extremely poisonous to most animals. This is a terrible combination, but the koalas manage. They have a specially evolved digestive system that allows them to consume the poisonous leaves and a slow metabolic rate that allows them to maximize the nutrients gained from the leaves. To boost these adaptations, koalas sleep throughout the day, effectively conserving their energy. They sure have a hard life.

So that's the koala: the bear-like, sloth impersonating marsupials of Australia. For more information about koalas, check out the Australian Koala Foundation and Wikipedia. Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Throughout Australia, cockatoos have adapted to the various extremes of the continent. You can find them in the steamy, tropical north, the arid, desolate Outback, and the cool, temperate south. Some species have even benefited from humanity and have adapted very well to cities, and their extensive numbers ravage crops and man-made structures and objects. As a result, they are considered a pest in some areas and are occasionally culled.

Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo (Cacatua galerita)Sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) preening itself in Cairns, Queensland, Australia. Sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) preening itself in Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

Cockatoos look a lot like other parrots, but there's one major difference: their headgear. All cockatoos have a feathery crest that they can raise or lower at will. In some species, such as the sulfur-crested cockatoo, the crest is clearly visible, whether raised or lowered. In others, such as the little corella, the crest is not apparent until it is raised. Depending on the situation, cockatoos will raise their crests to express emotion, communicate with other cockatoos, or respond to danger. They will also raise their crest after landing.

Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla)Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) at Cape Ranges National Park, Western Australia. Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) at Cape Ranges National Park, Western Australia.

Cockatoos come in a variety of sizes, but Australia is home to both the largest and smallest. The palm cockatoo is the largest cockatoo, and it grows up to 60 centimeters (24 inches) in length and weighs up to 1,200 grams (2.65 pounds). In Australia, it is limited to the upper reaches of the Daintree Rainforest on the Cape York Peninsula, but it is also found in the rainforests in New Guinea.

On the other hand, the cockatiel is the smallest of all cockatoos, growing up to 33 centimeters (13 inches) in length and weighing up to 125 grams (4.4. ounces). Unlike the palm cockatoo, cockatiels are found throughout Australia, and around the world, they are the most well-known cockatoo. Among bird-owners, cockatiels are second only to budgerigars (aka common parakeets), which are also native to Australia.

Cockatiel (Nymphicus hollandicus)A flock of cockatiels (Nymphicus hollandicus) congregates in a tree near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia.

Cockatiels (Nymphicus hollandicus) congregate in a tree near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia.

Like other parrots, cockatoos are very intelligent. In fact, they are among the most intelligent birds. Some species can solve complex mechanical puzzles, such as picking locks, and as pets, they are known to frequently escape their cages. They can also learn tricks and make wooden tools. These are all behaviors normally associated with primates, and they add a whole new meaning to the term " bird-brained".

Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla)Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia. Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia.

That said, among Australians, some cockatoos, such as the galah (known as the rose-breasted cockatoo among bird-owners), have a reputation for being, well, stupid. In fact, "galah" is an old Aussie slang word for "loud-mouthed idiot". Yet, while galahs are quite loud, their reputation is undeserved. Galahs are arguably the most successful of all cockatoos, having spread across all of Australia with the help of land clearing and the production of cereal crops. They now inhabit every Australian state, including Tasmania. This unprecedented distribution has made them a nuisance for farmers, who must defend their crops from the flourishing, flocking birds.

Little Corella (Cacatua sanguinea)Little corella (Cacatua sanguinea) hanging on a seed pod in Karijini National Park, Western Australia. Little corella (Cacatua sanguinea) hanging on a seed pod in Karijini National Park, Western Australia.

But galahs aren't the only flocking cockatoos. All cockatoos are quite sociable, and they all travel in flocks. Some that inhabit open country, such as little corellas, have been known to travel in flocks of over 32,000. The availability of food heavily influences the size of these flocks, and in times of scarcity, they travel in much larger flocks.

Red-Tailed Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus banksii) Red-tailed black cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus banksii) perched in a tree in Bowen, Queensland, Australia. Red-tailed black cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus banksii)  perched in a tree in Bowen, Queensland, Australia.

When breeding, cockatoos are monogamous, and they form pair bonds. Essentially, they get married. These "married" couples stay together for many years, and sometimes, they stay together for life. This behavior is quite common in parrots and a number of other birds, and according to a 2007 study, it accompanies their high intelligence.

Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla)Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) feeding near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia. Galah (Eolophus roseicapilla) feeding near Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia.

In the wild, cockatoos primarily eat seeds and nuts. They use their thick, curved bills and muscular tongues to crack nuts and husk seeds. They will often pick up seeds with one of their feet and eat like a human would. They also eat tubers, roots, and pinecones, and some species even eat insects, especially beetle larvae and caterpillars.

Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo (Cacatua galerita)Sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) feeding in Cairns, Queensland, Australia. Sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) feeding in Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

So that's the (very) basic run-down of Australian cockatoos. They're smart; they travel in huge flocks; and they primarily eat seeds. For more information, please check out Wikipedia and Cockatoo Info. Both are very good resources for both wild and captive cockatoos.

Like birds? Check out these other bird-brimmed articles:

Walking with Dinosaurs: The Cassowaries of Etty Bay

The Magnificent Artwork of John James Audubon

According to biologist Stéphan G. Reebs, sleep (as we know it) is defined by four behavioral criteria:

1. Prolonged inactivity
2. Typical resting posture, often in a typical shelter
3. Alternation with activity in a 24-h cycle
4. High arousal thresholds (less sensitive to disturbances)

So, with those four criteria in mind, we can conclude that fish do "sleep". To understand how, we need to examine different fish species in different environments.

One of the most well-known "sleeping fish" is the parrotfish, and scuba divers on coral reefs will generally encounter one or two on a night dive. When darkness shrouds the reef, these colorful little fish will find a secluded spot beneath the coral or inside a crevice. There, using special mucus-producing glands behind their gills, they encase themselves in a bubble-like mucus cocoon.

Bullethead Parrotfish (Chlorurus sordidus) - Initial PhaseBullethead parrotfish (Chlorurus sordidus), Initial Phase, sleeping inside a mucus cocoon on the Great Barrier Reef.

Bullethead parrotfish (Chlorurus sordidus) sleeping inside a mucus cocoon on the Great Barrier Reef.

Not all parrotfish produce these cocoons, but for the ones that do, scientists speculate the cocoons might aid in deterring parasites and predators. Like an organic mosquito net, this cocoon keeps parasites at bay, and it may also act as an early warning system when predators, such as moray eels, come knocking. However, while the parasite theory is well-supported, there is limited evidence supporting the predator theory.

Surf parrotfish (Scarus rivulatus) - MaleSurf Parrotfish (Scarus rivulatus) sleeping in a crevice on the Great Barrier Reef.

Surf parrotfish (Scarus rivulatus) sleeping in a crevice on the Great Barrier Reef.

But parrotfish are not the only sleeping fish by any means. Many other fish species "sleep", and their sleep patterns are influenced by their body type, their diet, their behavior, and their habitat. To conserve energy and avoid predators, sleep is essential for reef fish, whether they are diurnal and become inactive during the night like the blue-spotted rock-cod...

Blue-Spotted Rock Cod (Cephalopholis cyanostigma)Blue-spotted rock cod (Cephalopholis cyanostigma) sleeping in a crevice on the Great Barrier Reef.

Blue-spotted rock cod (Cephalopholis cyanostigma) sleeping in a crevice on the Great Barrier Reef.

...or nocturnal and become inactive during the day like the lunar-tailed bigeye.

Yet, these periods of inactivity can be interrupted. Spawning season causes many species to become active during both the day and the night, as does caring for eggs/young until they can fend for themselves. But not all interruptions are natural.

In some places, nocturnal fish like the lunar-tailed bigeye have been shifting to a decidedly diurnal lifestyle. In this study conducted at the Palmyra and Tabuaeran Atolls in the central Pacific, researchers discovered that, in absence of diurnal predators due to overfishing, nocturnal fish were becoming more active during the day. As a result, the normally diurnal fish now had to compete with the normally nocturnal fish for resources.

Lunar-Tailed Bigeye (Priacanthus hamrur)Lunar-tailed bigeye (Priacanthus hamrur) hiding under a rocky overhang on the Great Barrier Reef. Lunar-tailed bigeye (Priacanthus hamrur) hiding under a rocky overhang on the Great Barrier Reef.

Now, reef fish are small and have plenty of places to hide during the day and night. But what about the larger pelagic (ocean-going) fish like great white sharks, tuna, and marlin? Some of these fish, like great whites, NEED to keep moving in order to breath due to ram-ventilation.

The answer? Pelagic fish don't sleep at all. The functions of sleep are still not yet fully understood, but if sleep serves to form memories, pelagic fish would have no problem recording them without sleep. Why? The open ocean is such a vast, empty, and boring place that pelagic fish do not need to shut down their sensory input to form memories.

That said, this does not necessarily apply to sharks. According to ReefQuest Centre for Shark Research, sharks' swimming movements are controlled through the spinal cord and not the brain. Thus, they can shut down parts of their brain and swim while unconscious. They can literally function on autopilot.

Great White Shark (Carcharodon carcharias)Great white shark (Carcharodon carcharias) prowling the waters around the Neptune Islands off South Australia. Great white shark (Carcharodon carcharias) prowling around the Neptune Islands off South Australia.

In schooling pelagic fish, the dynamics are different. Together, schooling fish are scarcely bored in the big blue ocean, and someone's probably asking, "Are we there yet?" every five minutes. So, under those circumstances, how do they sleep? Well, schooling behavior, often cited as a defense mechanism against predators, has even more complex functions.

Fusilier Species (Caesio sp.)Various fusilier species (Caesio sp.) schooling. Background: a school of two-spot red snapper (Lutjanus bohar). Fusiliers (Caesio sp.) and red snapper (Lutjanus bohar) schooling on the Great Barrier Reef.

During the day, pelagic fish like bigeye trevally school together, remaining mostly stationary and inactive, but at night, they break apart to feed. Hammerhead sharks also do this, gathering in schools that number in the hundreds during the day and dispersing at night to feed near the bottom/in deeper water. But big predators like hammerheads don't have the same enemies as trevallies, so why the need for a school?

According to biologist J. Lee Kavanau, schooling serves another purpose: it allows fish to dull their senses enough to "sleep". Schooling fish do not require the same amount of alertness as solitary ones. Most of the fish in the school only need to maintain their position, since they are shielded from open water on all sides. This shifts the burden of sensory processing from one fish to the entire school. In this manner, the schooling fish are able to remain inactive and "sleep" without stopping.

Bigeye Trevally (Caranx sexfasciatus)Bigeye trevally (Caranx sexfasciatus) schooling around a piling at Navy Pier near Exmouth, Western Australia. Bigeye trevally (Caranx sexfasciatus) schooling  at Navy Pier near Exmouth, Western Australia.

So that's the basic gist behind fish sleep habits. Most fish sleep, just not under traditional, human terms. They might seek shelter during the day/night and become inactive; they might shut off their brain and go into autopilot mode; or they might dull their senses within the safety of a school. How they sleep depends entirely on their species, body type, diet, behavior, and habitat, if they even sleep at all.

While I was researching this topic, I happened upon The Fisheries Blog, which provided an insightful article on the subject. I recommend you check it out here. And, for more information, this Wikipedia article is also fantastic, but then again, Wikipedia in general is fantastic. Thanks for reading, and have a great day!

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IMG_3576 Adorable little gremlin, isn’t it? These odd fish are members of the goby family, but they’re different from other gobies in a variety of ways. First, they’re amphibious, so they’re happy in and out of the water. Yes, that’s right. They can walk on land.

IMG_3821-2 So, now, you might be saying, “What the hell? How?”. Well, they have these huge gill chambers that can store water like SCUBA tanks. When these “SCUBA gills” are full, they expand, and the mudskippers resemble chipmunks from the Black Lagoon. Charming, I know.

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If that wasn’t enough, mudskippers can breathe through their skin like amphibians, although they need humidity to breathe and thrive. For this reason, they live in hot, tropical regions (especially in mangroves), where temperatures range between 75-86 F (24-30 C).

IMG_3972-3 To stay high and dry (without drying out), every so often, they must go down to water’s edge and slurp water into their gill chambers. They must also roll around in the mud to keep their skin moist. And, since they don’t have eyelids to keep their eyes moist like we humans do, they must retract their eyes into water-filled cups on top of their head. IMG_3949-2

Oddly enough, they’re faster on land than they are in the water. In fact, they are much better adapted for terrestrial life than they are for aquatic. For example, they possess muscular bodies, which aren’t much help underwater but are valuable on land. With a single stroke, they can launch themselves up to 2 feet (or 60 cm) into the air. This is how they earned the name “mudskipper”. Pretty cool, eh?

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To further aid them on land, they possess pelvic fins that have been modified into suction cups, which they use to climb and cling to rocks and other surfaces. This allows them to reach the best vantage point for spying predators and prey as well as the best positions to achieve higher and longer leaps. IMG_3603

So, anyways, that’s the mudskipper for ya. If ya want to see more awesome wildlife stuff, follow my blog, "Like" my page on Facebook, or subscribe to my channel on YouTube.

I just realized that a forgot to write about what I did after I fixed my money troubles in Hervey Bay. As you may have guessed from my previous posts, I made it out just fine, and right now, I'm in Cairns. I've been here for the past three weeks or so. I intend to stay here for the next few months and acquire more photos during the tropical winter.

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Holding a saltwater crocodile at Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary.

I would be lying, if I said, "I haven't felt a little homesick every now-and-then", but I had expected that. Australia's a lot like America, but there are some differences. Even though the United States is the third most populous country in the world, not many Americans are out here. In many ways, that is cool because I love meeting new people from different countries, but at the same time, I am less likely to keep in touch with people from far flung countries than people who I can visit via a relatively short drive or a domestic flight. That's not to say, "I can't keep in touch with them". It's just harder to maintain close relationships with people from all over the world, when you cannot physically spend time with them every year or so.

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Common brushtail possum eating a melon at Fraser Roving hostel.

That said, I love my international friends. It's so awesome sharing stories and learning about each other's languages and customs (and dispel any associated stereotypes). That is one of the primary reasons you should travel. Even if you're only traveling for a brief period, you will soak up so much sweet, sweet knowledge and experience!
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Swimming with a green sea turtle on the Great Barrier Reef.

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My journey from Sydney to Cairns.

So you're traveling overseas, wallowing in current experiences and future memories, when you open your wallet and discover your credit/debit card is gone!!! You only have about $40 in cash, and on top of that, you are driving a rental vehicle that needs to be delivered to a location over 1000 miles north. What do you do?!

Well, first off, relax. Here, in Australia, everyone says, "No worries", and I have fully embraced this. Worrying never helps anyone or anything. You cannot resolve any situation by worrying about it. You need to keep a level head.

A few weeks ago, I lost my debit card (and cell phone) at Rainbow Beach, and at first, I was worried. Then, I realized I could do nothing to fix my problems that way. So I stopped worrying, accepted my situation, and did what I could to resolve it.

What did I do? I brainstormed. I had an ExxonMobil card, and I had seen some Mobil gas stations (called "petrol stations" here in Oz), so I drove to the nearest one to use the card and fill up my campervan's tank. Unfortunately, I discovered that Mobil had sold its holdings in Australia, and most Mobil stations had been replaced by BP stations. Those that still bore the name "Mobil" were, actually, owned by seven other companies. Just my luck.

But I had another idea. I had an Australian bank account set up, and if I transferred some money from my American account, I could withdraw it from the Australian bank in cash. However, I had lost my debit card on the night before Good Friday, and in Australia, everything important closes from Good Friday to April Fool's Day (banks and post offices alike). Yes, they are closed for April Fool's. It's not a very funny joke...

Thus, I had to survive on $40 for four days. I drove from Rainbow Beach to Hervey Bay, where I had heard there were internet cafes. This information was true, thankfully, and I stumbled into Fraser Roving hostel, where they provided pay-per-use internet and phone services. Both of which I desperately needed.

Throughout the debacle, I learned a great deal about traveling without money, so here are some important options to consider:

Western Union

Western Union is your amigo. With Western Union, you can transfer money from anywhere in the world to anywhere in the world. So, when you find yourself in a pinch, your family and friends back home can wire you money, which you can collect from a Western Union agent. In Australia, these agents are Australia Post offices, but they vary greatly all over the world.

The process is simple. Someone wires you X amount of money (considering conversion and service fees). He or she can either wire the money directly into your bank account or wire to a Western Union agent for a cash pickup at at any Western Union agency. In my case, I received the money as cash from an agent. My family wired me the money, and they were given a MTCN (Money Transfer Control Number). This number is VERY important (for cash pickups, at least), so whoever sends you the money MUST give you this number. Other than that, you just need to fill out a form with rather basic information and present the agent(s) with two forms of I.D., preferably a passport and driver's license.

If you know your bank account information (might want to set this up on Western Union's website before traveling overseas), you may even be able to wire money to yourself, but I recommend keeping a person you know on hand, so he or she can send you money in case sending to yourself fails.

PayPal

PayPal is great for making online purchases without storing your card numbers on multiple websites. Because of this, you can make online purchases without a credit or debit card. In fact, you can even send someone money via PayPal. If your bank account is linked to your PayPal account, you can easily access your money directly from your bank to make any necessary online purchases. (Example: buying a plane ticket.) This makes escaping a foreign country when you're broke that much easier.

Work

In addition to the above two options, if you have a visa that allows you to work in the country you're currently exploring, like I do, you can get a job and make money. Now, of course, in some cases, this is easier said than done. For unskilled workers and/or those with temporary visas, you may have a tougher time finding work. But, in many cases, if you don't find work right away, most hostels offer free accommodation in exchange for a few hours of work. By doing this, you will have much more time to find paid work.

Prepaid Cards

Prepaid cards will not help you retrieve your lost money, but if have your hands on some cash and need to make some over-the-phone or online purchases, they are incredibly useful. Visa offers a number of cards that allow you to "load & go" and use them exactly like credit/debit cards. In Australia, the Australia Post offers their own version (also Visa), which I highly recommend. For obvious reasons, the travel versions of these cards are your best choice, not just for traveling overseas but also for using them when you return home.

Prevention

Lastly, the best cure for anything is prevention. You can't always avoid accidents, but you can take steps to prevent them. In my case, I could've prevented my debit card loss by securing it inside my backpack, and I could've prevented my cellphone loss (well, actually, I didn't "lose" it; it got wet and short-circuited) by doing the same. No, I hadn't expected my leisurely hike through the woods would end with a terrible struggle through the surf, but that doesn't immunize me from being unprepared. So, when traveling or preparing to travel, here are some things to remember:

-Always secure your belongings. This seems like common sense, but sometimes, you can be caught off guard. Like when the tide unexpectedly rolls in, and you are suddenly immersed in the surf.

-Avoid going anywhere alone. If you must do so, tell someone where you're going and when you expect to return. This ensures that, if you end up in a tight spot and are running late, someone will send help.

-Carry around cash, and keep cash stored in a secure location. I'm serious. In this ever-increasing electronic market, cash is taking a seat on the backburner, since credit and debit cards have accelerated the purchasing process. Yet, cash will always be necessary, especially if you lose your cards and don't have a bank account (generally, travelers don't have bank accounts in the countries they're exploring).

If you have any other suggestions, please leave them in the comments, and I'll add them to my list. Happy travels!

Right now, I'm Cairns, Queensland, but about 17 hours south of here is a sleepy town called Rainbow Beach. Rainbow Beach earned its name due to an Aboriginal myth, which says that Yiningie, a god represented by a rainbow, protected a woman from an evil spirit. Yiningie died in the battle, and his shattered body spread across the cliffs, coloring the sands. For this reason, the multicolored cliffs just south of Rainbow Beach are called "Coloured Sands".

Anyways, back to me. I'm the most important character in this story, after all. Haha. On Wednesday, March 27, 2013, I arrived at Rainbow Beach and camped out on the nearby peninsula, Inskip Point. Inskip Point is one of two places (the other is Hervey Bay) where you can access Fraser Island, whether you book a guided tour or drive your own 4x4 there. For those of you who don't know, Fraser Island is the northern section of Great Sandy National Park and is the largest sand island in the world.

I had booked a Fraser Island tour for Friday, so on Thursday, I had a whole day to kill. I drove to the nearby Rainbow Beach information center and asked about trails, where I could photograph wildlife. The staff suggested a trail through the Cooloola section of Great Sandy National Park to a lighthouse at Double Island Point. The trail to the lighthouse is 15.5 kilometers, which is about 9.6 miles, so if you factor in the trip back, the total hike to and from the lighthouse is 31 kilometers or about 19.3 miles.

The distance seemed serious, but I shrugged and decided to "give it a go". After all, the day was still young (about 12:30pm), and I could probably tackle it in a few hours, and I really wanted to photograph that lighthouse, too!

'And, besides,' I thought, 'kilometers are a greater number than miles, so 31 kilometers can't be as bad as they seem.'

I stopped at my van and ate lunch. Then, I stuffed a couple bottles of water in my pack and left the Rainbow Beach information center. I plunged into the forest and was immediately reminded of home. If not for the eucalyptus trees (and the occasional lace monitor scurrying into the bush or up a tree), I would've thought I was in Newport News Park or First Landing State Park.

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The forest portion of the trail to Double Island Point.

Overwhelmed by the forest's familiarity, I let down my guard. I forgot that I was on the hilly coast of eastern Australia and not the flat coastal plains of the eastern United States, and therefore, I assumed the terrain would be flat. As I proceeded, I realized this was not true. The terrain was very hilly, and the trail had many steep drops and inclines. A few times, I had to grind my boots against the ground to keep myself from sliding down the trail. A leisurely hike became a tremendous chore, and with every step, I resented the forest. Hours passed, and I wasn't even looking for wildlife anymore. I just wanted to get out of those horrid woods.

Worst of all, I hadn't seen anyone on the forest trail. Nobody coming from the lighthouse. Nobody going to the lighthouse. Just me. Earlier, I had heard a couple faint voices some distance behind me, but they must've either turned back or taken the nearby (and shorter) path to Carlo Sandblow. When I had heard them behind me, I wished they'd go away because I didn't want them to scare off any critters. Now, I wanted them back.

Several hours in, I decided to check my cell phone to see how far 31 kilometers was in miles. I converted the distance: 19.262507. Shit. This was a bad idea. Still, I had set out to photograph that lighthouse, and I was gonna do it, Goddammit. I trudged on.

The trees cast longer and longer shadows, and I was wondering when I would reach (or, at least, see) the ocean. Every now-and-then, I heard a rushing sound, perhaps waves, but I had a hunch that it was the wind. Cursed woods. I had to get out of there before nightfall.

You see, Australia's well known for its dangerous critters, and eastern Queensland is home to some of the worst: death adders, taipans, brown snakes, tiger snakes. During the day (and from a safe distance), I would be thrilled to find and photograph these awesome animals. But, during the night (and without a flashlight, no less), I would not be thrilled to find them. Considering how much time the forest hike had eaten up so far, I knew I would be hiking back in the dark.

Then, I thought about the beach. The previous night, at Inskip Point, the sky was clear, and the moon lit up the whole beach.

'If I don't get back before it gets really dark,' I thought, 'tonight's moon should light my way. And the beach is straight and flat.' I nodded at my own suggestions. 'Yes, I will do that. I will go back along the beach'

Finally, after much more walking, I emerged from the woods and found a restroom. I'd been rationing my water as best as I could, but I was hoping to acquire more at the restroom's faucet (you'd gotta do what you've gotta do). However, in many places, Australia is quite dry and water is a precious commodity. Australian toilets are specially designed to conserve water. Faucets are designed to conserve water. Even urinals (which are basically troughs with a sponge a drains inside) are designed to conserve water. Thus, I was not too surprised when I went to the sink and saw this sign:

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Don't Drink the Water.

Like many restroom faucets in Australia, the water is recycled, which means it's treated sewage. You can use it to wash your hands, boots, whatever. But don't put it anywhere near your mouth. Well, no water for me.

'I'll be fine,' I thought. 'I'm at the beach now.' (The restroom is between the forest and the beach.) 'The sun will be setting, and the walk will be easy.' I glanced at a nearby marker that read "Double Island Point Lighthouse 3.4 kilometres --->". 'Nope. Screw that lighthouse. Not worth the effort.'

So, I turned left and stepped out onto the beach. I arrived just in time to see the tail end of a Landcruiser, humming up the shore (and away from me) in a hurry. Soon, it was out of sight.

I turned to the ocean--the Coral Sea. Out on the water, a crimson catamaran sailed along the coast, but it was quite far from me. I do not even think the crew knew I was there. They were probably drunk.

I stared at the sand. Here and there, a few footprints intermingled with tire tracks, but there were no people around. Not even one. Once again, I was alone.

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Alone.

I mostly enjoy solitude, but this time, I had a terrible feeling. This solitude was not the peaceful, energizing kind. This solitude was ominous and unsettling, and it grated my soul.

Yet, I shrugged off this feeling and started up the beach. The surf was strong, and the waves were creeping rather close, but the sand was still wet higher up, where the waves had not touched, and I assumed the tide was receding.

'Everything will be fine,' I thought and chugged my last bottle of water.

I trudged along, following the footprints in the sand. Surely, they'd lead me back.

Behind me, I heard a rock tumble down a hillside, and I immediately turned around. High up on the hill, a lace monitor (Australians call them "goannas") prowled, looking for food. I'd seen many of the big lizards before, but the afternoon light was right on this one. Ideal for photography. I raised my 150-500mm Sigma lens and snapped several shots.

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The lace monitor on the hill.

'Well,' I finally have some wildlife shots for today,' I mused. 'He's right up on the hill, too. Maybe this hike was worthwhile after all.'

Then, I realized that these huge hills paralleled the beach for as far as I could see. The hills were steep and covered in roots, bushes, and trees. They were also quite colorful, and they were flecked with red, brown, white, tan, cream, and numerous other colored sands. These were the Coloured Sands. The final resting place of the rainbow god.

Despite their beauty, unless you are a goanna or a bird (or have some decent climbing equipment), you could not climb the Coloured Sands. If the tide came in, I would not be able to escape the beach. The beach only exists at low tide. At high tide, the water rises up to the Coloured Sands. This was nothing like the U.S. east coast.

Then, as I reached a narrow strip of beach ahead, I noticed the tide WAS coming in. The surf was creeping higher and higher. I climbed over a fallen tree, splashing my Blundstone boots into the rising surf.

Thankfully, these narrow patches were few and far in between, although that did not relieve my troubled mind. These waters were shark infested. Bull sharks actively roamed the tidal zone and rivers; tiger sharks had been caught just offshore; and white pointers (another name for great whites) had been spotted close to shore. As if that wasn't bad enough, these shark species are the three most dangerous sharks in the world...and they were all patrolling these waters, perhaps mere feet (or inches) from my position.

As the sun began to sink behind the hills, I glanced at the sea. Sharks are always around, but they are most active at dawn, dusk, and night because those are their primary feeding hours. This did not bode well for an inept naked ape stumbling around through knee deep water. Easy prey for one of the ocean's most ancient and feared predators.

'I need to get the hell off this beach,' I thought. Compared to this, those horrid woods were Candyland. 'Snakes? I was worried about snakes? I haven't even SEEN a snake, since I arrived over two weeks ago. I should've just hiked to Carlo Sandblow.'

I began to panic. I pulled out my phone and dialed 000, the Australian emergency number, and asked for the police. The dispatcher redirected me to Rainbow Beach Police. An Aussie fellow on the other end of the line inquired about my situation, and I explained everything.

"I reckon you'll be alright," he said. "Just keep on walking up the beach. There are some stairs up near Carlo Sandblow."

I thanked him and apologized for calling. I felt a little better now. I had been walking for quite some time, and I was pretty sure I was close to Carlo Sandblow. Yet, the tide seemed to be rising faster now, as if the sea was alive and could hear me. Perhaps, the evil spirit had returned. Without the rainbow god, no one could stop him. I was his next victim.

The sun flicked out like a flame burning through the last piece of wick. But darkness did not consume me. The moon was out, as I had predicted (well, assumed, really), and there were no clouds. Had I been less stressed, I would've said, "This is beautiful". Romantic walks on moonlit beaches would never be the same.

I'll admit, I'm not as religious as I used to be, but that night, I clasped my cross. Had the moon been shrouded, I don't know what I would've done.

I pushed onwards. I had no choice. The woods were far behind me, and the tide had blocked my way back anyhow, but Carlo Sandblow was not far ahead. Or so I thought. After slogging for another hour, I realized I was not as close to Carlo Sandblow as I'd assumed.

I had left the Coloured Sands behind, and there were now huge, white sandy dunes in their place, but no sign of Carlo Sandblow (I hadn't visited it yet, so I wasn't sure what it looked like) or stairs. This was not good.

On the stretches ahead, the beach had practically disappeared, and only slippery rocks remained. Cautiously, I crossed them, my heavy camera around my neck, my big Sigma lens around my shoulder, and my tripod and pack on my back. Aside from the obvious physical dangers, if I slipped or lost my balance, I'd tumble into the water carrying thousands of dollars of electronic equipment.

Once I'd reached another patch of beach that hadn't disappeared (yet), I decided to follow some footprints up the dunes and attempt to climb them. The going was slow, but I managed to make it halfway up. I climbed up even farther, after stowing my camera and lens in my bag, but I soon reached a particularly steep point that I could not scale. I had nothing to grab (to hoist mysefl up), aside from thin, brittle roots that could not hold my weight, and the dune was too steep to dig my feet in.

Defeated, I made my way back down. I was parched and wished I still had some water. I kept imagining drinking big 1.5 litre (that's how Aussies spell it) bottles of crisp, ice cold water. But those fantasies quickly dissipated when I lost my grip on my backpack, containing all of my photography equipment, and watched it slide down the dune, dropping somewhere on the beach. Quickly, I grabbed the rest of my belongings and slid down after it.

On the beach again, I found my bag, which had--fortunately--not slid into the ocean. Now, I began to run. Well, sprint. Encumbered by all of my heavy equipment, I could only manage short bursts. I made some progress, but I stopped once I realized I was only hastening my dehydration.

Ahead, another section of slippery, surf-washed rocks waited. I clutched my bag and tripod dearly. The evil spirit probably wanted my camera. Perhaps, he was a photographer and couldn't afford the equipment himself. Well, he wasn't going to get it. As the sea receded, I carefully weaved through the rocks, determined to escape this damned beach. 

Suddenly, a surprise wave rushed up past my knees, splashing over the bottom of my pack, where my cameras and lenses were stored. Remembering that water + electronics = bad, I headed back up into the dunes. Footprints lead up that way, so I followed them. I tried scaling another dune, but that one was no more climbable than the previous one.

More footprints went around the dunes, and I traced them up into an immense sandblow, which turned out to be Carlo Blow. Then, around the corner, I found the stairs. The stairs that the policeman had told me about I-don't-know-how-many-hours-ago. Sanctuary, at last.

I hopped the rail onto the stairs and thumped up them. Then, once I'd reached the road at the top, I fell flat on my back and lay on the asphalt. Sand and seawater caked my body, and I looked as if I'd been wandering the wilderness for days, not hours. In fact, my exhaustion was so great that, when I checked my wallet, saw my soggy passport, and noticed my one and only debit card was missing (probably slipped out while I was running to escape the tide), I hardly shrugged. I was just happy to be alive. And have my photography equipment intact! The evil spirit had failed.

So that's the story of how I lost my bank card. I'll explain what I did after that in my next blog post. Cheers!

On March 1, 2013, I left my home region of Hampton Roads for Australia. I flew from Newport News/Williamsburg International to Charlotte/Douglas International to Phoenix Sky Harbor International to Los Angeles International to Sydney Airport. Sounds fun, right? The total trip lasted about 25 hours, including time spent during layovers at the airports, although the flight across the Pacific Ocean from Los Angeles to Sydney burned through 15 hours, at least.

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Flying over the Rocky Mountains.

On March 3, 2013, I arrived in Sydney. There, I stayed at the Blue Parrot Backpacker hostel in King's Cross for three nights. King's Cross is an interesting place. Mostly because it's Sydney's red light district. However, it's quite tame in comparison to red light districts elsewhere in the world, and I highly recommend staying in that area because, from there, you can walk through the Royal Botanic Gardens to the Sydney Opera House.

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The Blue Parrot Backpackers hostel in Sydney's King's Cross district.

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Sydney Opera House.

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Harbour Bridge.

Anyways, like I said, I stayed in Sydney for four days and three nights, and I developed a familiarity with King’s Cross and Potts Point. Sydney is a very walkable city, and if you need to travel a significant distance, you can just hop on a train. On foot, I visited the Art Gallery of New South Wales in the Royal Botanic Gardens, touched the Sydney Opera House, and went to the world famous Bondi Beach.

However, as cool as Sydney is, the city is quite expensive (in fact, Australia as a whole is quite expensive). In addition to that, I came here to photograph wildlife, which Sydney lacks. Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Sydney funnel web spider, but they live out in Sydney’s western suburbs (and the Blue Mountains) and not in the main city. For normal people, that’s welcome news. For me, that's a disappointment. Thus, I hopped on an overnight Greyhound bus up to Brisbane because a friend of mine--his name's Hamish--lives there.

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Greyhound Australia.

On the morning of March 7, 2013, I arrived at Central Station in Brisbane. There, a shuttle picked me up and took me to Bunk Backpackers in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley suburb. The Fortitude Valley is at the heart of Brisbane, and it contains all of Brisbane's major bars and clubs. Personally, that quality doesn't appeal to me; however, if you're looking for nightlife in Brisbane and love to party, the Fortitude Valley's the place to be!

IMG_3352 Bunk Backpackers in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley suburb.

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Brisbane (day).

IMG_3962 Brisbane (night).

Brisbane is a wonderful city, and like Sydney, it is very walkable. I spent two weeks in Brisbane, visiting the Queensland Art Gallery, the Queensland State Library, Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, and the Queen Street Mall, among other places. In fact, I even went into (and gambled at) a casino for the first time at Brisbane's Treasury Casino. There, I set aside $15, and lost all but a few cents and, then, won it all back (plus an extra $5) for a couple cents at the Wild Banana slot machine.

Somewhere in the middle of my Brisbane stay, my friend Hamish and his wife took me up to Noosa Heads and showed my around Noosa National Park. I hiked around the trails there. I even discovered that one of the beaches was a nude beach. I will never be able to burn the images of that naked old dude out of my mind.

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Alexandria Bay, part of Noosa National Park. The nude beach was located here...

Yet, despite Brisbane's charm, I again had difficulty finding what I came for: wildlife. Wildlife thrives, even in urban areas, but the best places to find wildlife are outside the cities. Brisbane had quite a bit of wildlife: eastern water dragons, Australian magpies, common ringtail possums (at night), and eastern blue-tongued skinks, among other critters. But these critters were few and far in between, and I often found myself photograhing the same species over and over again. Thus, I left Brisbane. This time, I rented (in Australia the term is "hired") a campervan for 30 days.

My first rental--well, hire--was a manual transmission vehicle. As an automatic bred American, I had great difficulty learning the ropes, and on top of that, I had to master the whole driving on the left side of the road in the right side of the car shebang. Needless to say, the first hire didn't work out, and I took another overnight bus back to Sydney, where a company named Awesome Campers had an automatic transmission vehicle waiting for me.

IMG_1233 My trusty steed.

So, on March 20, 2013, I arrived in Sydney (again) and made for Kingsgrove, a suburb of Sydney. There, I picked up my vehicle and began my journey to Cairns, which is over 3000 kilometers total and nearly 2000 miles (if not over that) from Sydney. Immediately after acquiring my vehicle, I sped out to the Blue Mountains. I headed west along the Great Western Highway until I reached Katoomba and, then, went on to Blackheath, where I camped out in the nearby Megalong Valley.  The Megalong Valley is a beautiful (but very narrow) place, and I highly recommend camping there, whether you’re American, Australian, or anyone else!

IMG_7434 The Megalong Valley, New South Wales.

Next, I proceeded to Evans lookout where I gazed upon the Blue Mountains from Evans Lookout and explored the valley below. This is another place in Australia that you must see, if you have the time. However, when I visited the Blue Mountains Heritage Center and attempted to purchase some books, I discovered that my bank card was locked. I only had about $20 in cash. This was not good.

IMG_7657 The Blue Mountains, viewed from Evans Lookout.

Not sure what to do, I looked for a computer and contacted my family. They didn't know what to do, so I decided to get out of the mountains ASAP and back on the coast. I headed north along the Putty Road, taking a scenic route through the Blue Mountains and the Great Dividing Range. There, I stopped at a place called the Grey Gum Cafe, where I met the owner and his wife. They gave me a glass of white wine, and I drank it with them on the porch. Then, the owner showed me his (wild) pet peacock, who appears every evening around 6:30pm. His wife showed me the wild eastern gray kangaroos that come to the cafe every morning and every evening. There was no charge for staying the night, and I did not need to spend any money. The stars (and moon) were out in full force, and when the owner, his wife, and the rest of the staff has left, I was the only person out there.

IMG_8048 Grey Gum Cafe, New South Wales.

The next day, I spent the morning photographing wild eastern gray kangaroos around the cafe's boundaries, and then, I headed east to Singleton. Here, my family figured out what to do and told me to call my bank to unlock my card. I called and approved transactions deemed suspicious by the bank (the two campervan rentals) due to the large amounts of money involved. Success. My card was unlocked, and as my tank was near empty, I could buy more gas (called "petrol" here in Oz).

I breathed a sigh of relief and continued toward the coast, reaching Wingham and camping out at a free campsite by Wingham Brush Nature Reserve. I went there to photograph the colony of flying foxes (a mix of grey-headed and little red flying foxes). Flying foxes are all over Australia, especially the eastern coast, but Wingham is one of the places where these megabats hang out during the day and night.

IMG_9263 Flying foxes at Wingham Brush Nature Reserve.

After getting my flying fox shots the next morning, I hopped back in my van and kept heading east. Finally, I reached the coast and explored Crowdy Bay National Park. I went to Crowdy Head and photographed the lighthouse, pelicans, and crabs, among other things.

IMG_9824 Crowdy Head Lighthouse.

Once I'd finished up my photography at Crowdy Head, I drove an hour north to Diamond Head, which is another part of Crowdy Bay National Park, but it can only be accessed from a gravel road to the north. At the campsite there, more wild eastern kangaroos hopped around the many campers, caravans, 4x4s, and tents, and lace monitor lizards prowled the ground, crawling under cars and propane tanks. Kookaburras and rainbow lorikeets cackled and chirped in the eucalyptus branches above. I'd never seen such a wild and lively campsite.

IMG_0835 At the beach at Diamond Head.

The next day, I spent the morning on the beach at Diamond Head, testing out an inexpensive dive housing I'd purchased in the U.S. for my Canon 7D. The housing sucked. Yes, it kept the camera dry, but it was useless for anything else. In addition to that, when I opened my bag, my phone slipped into a tidepool. Well, that was that. I snapped a few more shots, and then, I continued north.

This was the longest leg of my journey, as I drove for over six hours until I reached Byron Bay. Upong my arrival, I had planned to camp out at a caravan park by Broken Head Nature Reserve, but I had arrived quite late, and the caravan park's reception had closed (early, no less). Just my luck. I headed into the main town and booked an expensive--$32, I think--night at a hostel. In hindsight, I should've just looked for a free campsite. Anyways, after a night in the hostel, I drove back to Broken Head Nature Reserve and hiked around the trails.

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Broken Head Nature Reserve.

When I'd reached the end of Broken Head's main trail, once again, I hopped back in my van and continued my push north. I purchased a new phone in Tweed and passed across the border of New South Wales and entered Queensland. Here, I spent the afternoon scouring Surfer's Paradise on the Gold Coast. Surfer's Paradise is cool, and the waters are beautiful, but the Gold Coast as a whole is a bit too touristy for me, and it wants to be like Florida (especially Miami and Orlanda) and/or California (especially Los Angeles).

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Surfer's Paradise at the Gold Coast.

As night drew near, I stopped at the Gold Coast Holiday Park and chose (rather unwisely) to stay the night there. Don't get me wrong; it was a nice caravan park, but it was very expensive, and it had so many anemities, I might as well have stayed at a hostel or hotel. I was happy to leave the next morning and head into the Glasshouse Mountains, where I stayed at a campsite by Coochin Creek.

Early the next morning, I awoke and hiked up Mount Beerburrum and Mount Ngungun. Despite the rain and wind, the views were still beautiful and worth the effort. This is what I came to Australia for. This is what I came to see.

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The Glasshouse Mountains, viewed from the top of Mount Ngungun.

Later, I went to the Australia Zoo. As an admirer of Steve Irwin since my childhood, I had to go there. However, I must've visited on an off day because not a lot of people were there, but then, I had also arrived after 12pm, the only time the daily show at the Crocoseum is held. The zoo itself was not as big as I'd expected, and with the Crocodile Hunter's absence, it seems like a shell of its former self. A somber memorial to the man who effortlessly handled the world's most dangerous predators and met his end at the barb of a humble stingray. Even the nearby road through the Glasshouse Mountains is named "Steve Irwin Way".

IMG_2049 Statue of the Irwin family at the Australia Zoo, a tribute to the late and great Steve Irwin.

Feeling slightly hollow, I proceeded through Gympie and Rainbow Beach and spent the night at the beach on Inskip Point. I should probably mention that the campsite was sand, and I made the mistake of driving too far in with a two-wheel drive vehicle and getting stuck. Luckily, some helpful Aussie fellows helped dig me out and drive me to a more suitable spot, where the sand was shallower. The next morning, I woke up to this:

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Inskip Point.

In a brochure, I'd read that, at 8am at a nearby place called Tin Can Bay, you could observe and feed wild Indo-Pacific humpback dolphins. I'm a sucker for sea creatures, so naturally, I woke up early and drove about 30 minutes from Inskip Point to Tin Can Bay. The dolphins were there as advertized, and I handfed one for five bucks.

Indo-Pacific Humpback Dolphin Indo-Pacific humpback dolphin at Tin Can Bay.

After feeding the dolphins, I booked a Fraser Island tour (out of Inskip Point) for the next day. But I still had a whole day to kill! What was I going to do? I went to the Rainbow Beach information center, and they showed me a hike through the Cooloola section of Great Sandy National Park to Double Island Point lighthouse. The hike to the lighouse was about 15.5 kilometers (about 9 miles), but I thought it wouldn't be so bad. Man, was I wrong. I hiked for hours through hilly forest until I finally emerged on the beach. A sign read: "Double Island Point Lighthouse 3.4 Kilometers --->".

At that point, I was so exhausted (and concered about getting back before dark), I decided to head back. However, I didn't have a flashlight, and with Australia's venomous snakes, I didn't want to take the trail back through the woods and risk stepping one one in the dark. So I strolled back along the beach. Bad idea. I'll discuss the details in another blog post, but for now, I will say that my leisurely stroll turned into a race against the rising tide (in shark infested waters, no less), and I ended up losing my bank card, drenching my cell phone (again), and enduring the most terrifying moment of my life.

IMG_2863 Cooloola Coast. Looks are truly deceiving.

Currently, I am stuck here in Hervey Bay as a result of losing my bank card. I've been stuck here, since Friday (my Fraser Island Tour was booked for that day, but I didn't even go because I was so worried about my financial situation). As it turns out, just about everything important in Australia is closed Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for the Easter holiday. Fortunately, the hostel here has been nice enough to allow me to park here an use their facilities until Tuesday, when the banks and post offices reopen. Tomorrow is Monday. Only one more day!!! Ah, the peaks and pitfalls of adventure!

Oh, also, here's a map (below), outlining my journeys so far. The places listed are locations I have visited and/or camped at overnight on my way up to Cairns. Note: I did not drive to Noosa, but my friend Hamish did.

View Larger Map

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Yet, with all of this positive talk and high hopes, there's also talk that the Australian economy may go into recession this year. Having seen (and experienced) the effects of the "Great Recession" over here in the United States, I am concerned; however, minimum wage in Australia is $16 an hour, although that's mostly to make up for Australia's high cost of living and inflation.

I am not discouraged by this information, but these are factors that one must consider before going to another country. When traveling abroad, research is critical, so you know what to do and what to expect.

Oh, and after decades of failed attempts to film this giant, elusive predator, you might be wondering how these researchers managed to pull through. Well, they used lights that imitated distressed bioluminescent jellyfish, which quickly drew the hungry (and aggressive) predators to the submersible...and the camera.

Reminds me of a certain scene from a certain film:

Yes, I know, it's a little...er...inaccurate, but the film's a classic.

Mute Swan (Cygnus olor)

In January 2012, I created this website in anticipation of my first art exhibition: Teddy Fotiou: Wildlife Excursions (also, I wanted my own website, so I could look legit). To further prepare, I purchased a Canon 7D to replace my first DLSR, a Canon Rebel T3, and used it to photograph a number of new and elusive species, such as the eastern hognose snake and the pileated woodpecker.

When summer arrived, my exhibition went up and was on display from June 2 - July 8, 2012 at the Peninsula Fine Arts Center. Many people saw it, and I received quite a bit of exposure. I couldn't have been happier.

After my exhibition came down, I had a bit of a lull for a few months. I photographed a few new critters, but I didn't find anything particularly special or exciting. My usual territory, Newport News Park, grew a little stale. I needed a change.

Finally, in November 2012, I made a life-altering decision: I am going to Australia. Now, this may seem rash and random, but I assure you, it is not. I have always wanted to go to Australia. I just never had the guts to go until now.

Australia is notorious for its weird and dangerous wildlife. For many, that's a dealbreaker. For me, that's a draw. In fact, as a child, I admired Steven Irwin (aka the Crocodile Hunter), and he inspired me to engage wildlife in the ways I do today. Of course, I don't run around handling venomous snakes or crocodiles, but I do interact with animals as much as possible without causing them any harm or distress. That is how you get the best shots, after all.

So, anyways, expect to see a LOT of photos of Australian fauna throughout 2013 and early 2014. And some of them may not be above the ocean's surface. ;)

One more little detail that happened at the tail end of this year:

Land Snail Species In October 2011, I photographed a snail eating a mushroom, which I titled Of Mollusks and Mushrooms... At the time, I didn't think much of the picture, but I did display it during my photography exhibition because everyone told me they loved it.

Later on, in December 2012, I created a tumblr account, and this was one of the first photos I posted. Almost immediately, my photo took off, and my snail became a D-list internet celebrity! In fact, he's probably the most famous snail on tumblr!

Currently, he's accumulated over 2,400 notes. That means over 2,400 people have liked and reblogged this photo. Who knew a mollusk munching on a mushroom would be so popular?

Ebony Jewelwing - Male

I am a huge fan of macro photography (photographing critters up close).  But, while macro photography is easy in broad daylight, it's a challenge in low light. Sure, you can set up a tripod and photograph a motionless moth on a tree because, on still subjects, a long exposure doesn't matter. However, in the vast majority of cases, macro subjects like insects and spiders are incredibly active. You only have seconds to capture them in the right posture.

So what's the best way to do this? Well, you have two options: crank up your ISO or use a flash.  Cranking up your ISO will allow you to take the shot at higher shutter speeds; however, you will have a problem with digital noise, and more likely than not, all the details on your subject's body will not be highlighted. Both of these problems are grave, since detail is the main focus of macro photography. This makes the first option undesirable.

So we move to the second option: a flash. Ideally, a serious macro photographer will have a ring flash, which is designed for macro shots, but unless you want to pay an extra $300 or so, you'll probably want to pass on that.  

This leaves you with your camera's little built-in pop-up flash. For larger subjects, the pop-up isn't always desirable, but for the smaller subjects, it's perfect. In fact, with small subjects, the flash is so powerful that you're, practically, carrying around your own studio.

Yet, this is where the flash's problem lies: the powerfully bright light at close range will overexpose and/or wash out the photo.  The photo below is a good example. 

Common Eastern Fireflies (Photinus pyralis) Mating I photographed this mating pair of common eastern fireflies at dusk, when there's NO light outside. So, understandably, I needed to use a flash. However, because of the flash, the fireflies (and the background) are horribly overexposed, and they've lost a great deal of color.

So how do you fix this problem? Simple. Using a good photo editing program (Photoshop, PaintShop Pro, and even, Gimp are good choices), you decrease your photo's brightness and increase its saturation. For situations such as these, I recommend shooting in RAW, so you have more freedom playing around with brightness and saturation. If you do decide to shoot in JPEG and edit the photo, save a copy of the original. Why? Because editing JPEGs--even just rotating them--decreases the photo's size and, in turn, loses data.

Anyways, back to the photo.  Here is the result of decreasing the brightness and increasing the saturation:

Common Eastern Firefly (Photinus pyralis) Much better. Decreasing the brightness restored the detail that has been overexposed. Increasing the saturation restored the colors that had been washed out.

Is this strategy useful on subjects other than insects? Absolutely. Below is a photograph of a juvenile eastern ratsnake.  

Eastern Ratsnake Juvenile Once again, the flash has overexposed and washed out the subject and background. However, due to the low light beneath the forest canopy, the flash was necessary to capture the little snake's features as well as freeze its tongue in action. So we upload the RAW files to our computer, load them in our photo editor of choice, and decrease the brightness + increase the saturation and...

Eastern Ratsnake - Juvenile

...voila! A beautiful photograph of a juvenile eastern ratsnake on the move.

Decreasing brightness and increasing saturation need not be limited to flash, though. You can fix, practically, any overexposed photo in this manner, provided the subject is in focus. In broad daylight, cloud movements and contrasting colors can easily overexpose a photo. The below photograph of a delta flower scarab was shot outside in broad daylight.  The subject's in focus, but the photograph is overexposed.

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Scarab Species

Once again, adjusting the brightness and saturation accordingly has saved the day! Looking at the flowers, your eyes no longer hurt, and you can, actually, tell that they are flowers!

I hope you've learned something today. Now, go out there and shoot some awesome macros! 

Teddy Fotiou- Self-Portrait

Teddy Fotiou - Wildlife Excursions

As a side note, I am greatly honored to have my photos on display at Pfac, especially on an entire wall.  I owe so many "Thanks!" (and more) to so many people.

Teddy Fotiou - Wildlife Excursions

Wandering Glider in Flight

Grass Skipper Species on Zinnia Love...or Hate?, Grass Skipper Butterfly Species, Richneck, 2011

Land Snail Species Of Mollusks and Mushrooms, Land Snail Species, Newport News Park, 2011

Eastern Gray Squirrel Mushroom Meal, Eastern Gray Squirrel, Newport News Park, 2011

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Buck - 6-Point Buck The Hunter's Dream, White-Tailed Deer, Newport News Park, 2011

Juvenile Brown Pelicans Battle for Bunker, Juvenile Brown Pelicans, Messick Point, 2011

Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) Swan Lake, Mute Swan Family, Newport News Park, 2011

Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) Beauty, Mute Swan Family, Newport News Park, 2011

Eastern Cottonmouth

Eastern Cottonmouth Beast, Eastern Cottonmouth (Water Moccasin), Newport News Park, 2012

Harlequin Darner (Gomphaeschna furcillata)

Hoverfly (Toxomerus boscii) Floralphilic Fly, Hoverfly (Toxomerus boscii), Newport News Park, 2012

Red-Eared Slider Female

Due to these releases, the red-eared slider's range has become...odd. According to the U.S. Geological Survey, the red-eared slider originally lived in the south central United States, but the turtle's popularity as a pet expanded its range into the surrounding states and beyond. It has even established itself on Hawaii and Puerto Rico. Not bad for a sluggish reptile.

Red-Eared Slider

Range discrepancies aside, red-eared sliders are beautiful. The distinctive red stripe behind each of their eyes sets them apart from all other North American turtles, so keep that in mind the next time you're out by a pond, lake, or reservoir.

Red-Eared Slider

During the warmer months, you'll see red-eared sliders basking on logs or banks of earth on or beside the water. However, if you approach them, they'll quickly slide from their exposed position (hence the "slider" part of the name) and splash into the water, where they are much more at home. 

Red-Eared Sliders Swimming

In the water, red-eared sliders are sleek and swift.  Not only can they more easily elude predators here, but they can only eat in the water because they lack saliva. What do they eat?  Red-eared sliders are omnivores, so they eat both plants and animals.  Young sliders are mostly carnivorous and eat 70% animal matter and 30% plant matter. They eat fish, tadpoles, snails, worms, aquatic insects, crickets, carrion (dead animals), and other small creatures. They require this protein-rich diet to grow into strong, healthy adults. Steadily, as they grow, they switch their diet from animals to plants until 90% of their diet consists of plants and 10% consists of animals. During this stage, they mostly feed on aquatic plants like water lilies and duckweed.

Despite their love for the water, female red-eared sliders, like all semi-aquatic and marine turtles, must venture inland to lay their eggs.  With predators like foxes, raccoons, and bobcats, it's a dangerous journey, but the risks are worth the reward: baby turtles. 

Periwinkles. When you see or hear that word, you either think of a type of a beautiful, flowering planet or a small, slimy snail. In typical EpochCatcher nature, I am discussing the latter. Periwinkles are fascinating creatures, although--under normal circumstances--you probably wouldn't pay them any mind.  In their typical habitat, Atlantic and Gulf Coast salt marshes (who knew?), marsh periwinkles graze on cordgrass, algae, and leaf fungi, and you hardly see any of their soft bodies.  If you even notice them, you'll only see a series of conical shells clinging to cordgrass, sand, mud, and rocks.
However, these simple, small gastropods are more intricate than they seem: they are the only known mollusks to practice fungiculture. What's fungiculture? Fungiculture is, as the name suggests, the act of growing and harvesting fungi. So how do these armless, legless creature manage this feat?

Marsh periwinkles use their radulae--a toothy, tongue-like organ--to create gashes in live cordgrass, usually cutting entirely through the leaf, so they can feed on the juices inside. During this process, the snails defecate (see: poop) on the grass, spreading their nutrient-rich feces (nutrients provided by the juices from inside the leaves) on the gashes in the cordgrass. Charming, I know. But the snail poop acts as a natural fertilizer for fungus.

You see, the gashes in the cordgrass make the leaves vulnerable to fungal infection, and the snail poop increases the infection, but this is exactly what the periwinkle (and the fungi) wants. The fungus is the periwinkle's favorite food, and it relishes this delicious treat like candy. However, unlike candy, the fungi is very healthy for periwinkles and makes them grow big and strong.  

But this peaceful relationship between snail and fungi is not without disruption. Predators, like the boat-tailed grackle, eat periwinkles. Yet, as sad as this may seem, this is a part of the natural order.  The periwinkle's fungiculture reduces cordgrass growth, keeping cordgrass growth in check. Likewise, the periwinkles' predators keep the periwinkles' populations in check, preventing the periwinkles and fungi from completely decimating the cordgrass.  So, in the end, everyone keeps everyone else from taking over. It's a natural system of checks-and-balances.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Buck - 6-Point Buck

The "six-point" buck is probably the most renowned form of male white-tailed deer, but 12 and 16-point bucks are by no means unusual. Some captive bucks can have as many as many as 50 or 60 points.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Buck - Spike Some bucks only have two points. These bucks are called "spikes". However, deer lose and regrow their antlers every year, so this guy may have 8 points next year.

White Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Button Buck Young bucks are called "button bucks". These small males are growing their antlers for the first time, and they emerge as skin-covered nobs or bony protrusions.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Fawn Young deer, both male and female, are called fawns. These adolescent deer are spotted and stay with their mothers for about a year (or two years for most female fawns). When their mothers forage for food, they hide the fawns in the undergrowth for hours. Here, the fawns lie flat, silent, and still, and their spots break up their body, effectively camouflaging them from predators.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Fawn Losing Spots

Three to four months after birth, fawns lose their spots and transition from their reddish brown juvenile coat to their grayish brown adult coat. This normally happens in October, just before the rut. The rut is a period from October to December wherein bucks actively search for does and are, therefore, less cautious than usual. If you are looking for a buck, for photography, hunting, or purely for the sake of observation, this three month period is the best time to find one.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Buck - 6-Point Buck During the rut, bucks will rub their antlers and heads, which possess special scent glands in front of the eyes, against trees and shrubs, effectively marking their territory and alerting other deer to their presence via smell. Bucks, of course, mark their territory year-round, but this behavior only become important during the rut, when the does are in heat.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Doe

Does are the most commonly sighted white-tailed deer. Whenever someone shouts, "Deer!", more likely than not, her or she has spotted a group of does.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Does

Does, generally, hang out in groups, and in more urban areas, they are quite tame and approachable. Unlike the bucks, they are not active targets of hunters and do not feel as threatened by humans.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Doe Flagging

However, they are still quite wary, and if approached too suddenly or too closely, they will exhibit a behavior called "flagging", raising their signature white tails and fleeing.

White-Tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) Does So, if you ever desire to walk among white-tails, make sure you respect them and approach them with care. Happy hunting!

Northern Watersnake

AHHH!!!  Snake!

Despite their large size, northern watersnakes are not venomous; however, when picked up, they are known to bite repeatedly and, therefore, should be admired using a "look but don't touch" approach.

Northern Watersnake Scales

They have keeled scales and can possess a very thick body, so it's easy to mistake one for a venomous eastern cottonmouth.  For safety, it's best to make this assumption first, but if you can see its head without getting too close, you will instantly recognize this harmless snake.

Northern Watersnake

Spade-shaped head of the harmless northern watersnake

vs.

Eastern Cottonmouth Shovel-shaped head of the venomous eastern cottonmouth.

Northern Watersnake Juvenile

Young northern watersnakes do not have the spade-shaped head of adults. Their heads are more rounded like those of a "typical" snake.

Northern Watersnake

So, the next time you venture into an area near water...

Northern Watersnake

Katydid Nymph

As spring advances and temperatures rise, Orthopterans (grasshoppers, crickets, and katydids) of all kinds are emerging. Newborn nymphs have hatched from their eggs, and they are everywhere.

Grasshopper Nymph

The next time you're in a field or meadow, take a closer look at the little critters hopping through the grass and flowers.  You'll probably see a katydid, grasshopper, or cricket nymph.

Eastern Cottonmouth

I photographed the Eastern Cottonmouth at close (but safe) range.  Close enough to warrant the infamous threat display.

Parasitic Wasp Species and Cricket Species I documented a species of parasitic wasp tackling a cricket nymph.

Ladybug Species Beach 3 I photographed my first clearly visible compound eyes.

Harlequin Darner (Gomphaeschna furcillata) After nearly a six month drought, I captured a decent shot on a dragonfly in flight and continue to acquire better dragonfly-in-flight shots every day.  This particular dragonfly is a harlequin darner.

Teneral Baskettail Species I happened upon a teneral (newly emerged) dragonfly, watched it open its wings for the first time, test them, and fly off my hand.

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So, as you can see, March has been a truly incredible month, and I hope to continue finding and documenting new species and important natural events.

Fowler's Toad

Fowler's Toad finds your lack of faith disturbing.