South Salado Creek Greenway, South Side Lions Park Trailhead

The section of the trail through South Side Lions Park primarily crosses the upland section of the park. This is South Texas brush country:

As of now, the plan for next week's walks is the many trails at Eisenhower Park.

First Lesson in Photography as Dialogue

"the magnificent patterns of tree branches
and the noble architecture of the trees themselves"

My grandfather, Albert Ewers, Sr., was my earliest influence in photography even though he had died three years before I was born. He had been a botany professor at Harris Teachers' College in St. Louis. He was an avid amateur photographer and frequently used his photographs as visual aids in teaching his botany classes. One of his favorite locations to photograph was Tower Grove Park, one of the major city parks in St Louis that was just two blocks from our house.

I grew up in the the same house where my grandparents lived. I remember as a young child looking through box after box of glass plate negatives of his photographs. Even though they were negatives, I was in awe of the images he had created and wanted to learn more about how he had created them.

My father did some photography, usually family photos on special occasions and holidays. I was given my first camera, a Kodak Hawkeye box camera which was so ubiquitous for my generation, for my tenth Christmas. It was my cherished possession, a tool I was determined to put to very good and prolific use.

I headed straight to Tower Grove Park probably with my dad, but while I remember taking pictures that day, I have no memory of who was with me. Whoever it was didn't interfere with what I wanted to do.

Being winter in St Louis, the trees were bare. My first two rolls of film were dedicated completely to the magnificent patterns of tree branches and to the noble architecture of the trees themselves. And there was the occasional accent of (all too small) birds mingled with the branch patterns.

This was in the late 1950's, so we took the film to the corner store where they would send it off for processing. About two weeks later the negatives and prints were ready for pickup. I remember very clearly it was my mother that went with me this time. The clerk handed me the package and I began looking through the stack of prints while my mother was paying for them.

I was very pleased with the results of my first outing. The trees were impressive. The birds, on the other hand, were way too small. That was my only disappointment. I still had much to learn about how cameras and lenses work.

Before we walked back outside, my mother asked to see the photos. I handed her the stack and she began slowly looking at each one.  She spent less time looking at each the further she got through the stack and her facial expression indicated that this wasn't going as well as I had expected. When she had looked at the last one, she handed them back to me and said very emphatically, "If you ever take pictures like these again, I'm not paying for them!"

To put it briefly, my mother was horrified that I had wasted two rolls of film on such insignificant and meaningless subjects. To this day her reaction mystifies me. But it did make an immediate, powerful and lasting impression on my mind as to the true communicative nature of the photograph. It initiated my approach to photography as dialogue. And it was one of the most important experiences that has enabled me to achieve some level of success with the medium.

It took me awhile to realize my mother was expecting to see the "Kodak moment," the typical family and neighborhood snapshots. She was unaware of how deeply impressed I was with my grandfather's negatives, and it had probably been many years since she had seen any of his photographs. Many conversations later, she began to understand what I was really trying to do with my photography. And now, more than a half-century later, I am still photographing the noble architecture of trees.

The point of all this is that a photographer who chooses to ignore or avoid feedback is no better than someone who chooses to talk to the walls. Photography is a complex communication experience involving the subject(s) of the photograph, the photographer and each individual viewer of the photograph. Within the family and a close circle of friends, feedback generally flows freely. Whether or not the photographer appreciates or even understands the feedback is another issue.

The more feedback a photographer can get the better. If one approaches the viewer with an open mind and good communication skills, one will rapidly improve the effectiveness of one's photographs.

South Salado Creek Greenway, Covington Park Trailhead, Part 1

First the photos, then some commentary:

The South Salado Creek Greenway trail is under construction north of Rigsby Avenue. The completed trail goes in a 2.3 mile half circle first going east through Covington and Comanche Parks then turning south and west ending at South Side Lions Park Lake. Today I walked from the Covington Park trailhead to where the trail meets Roland Avenue.

This part of Salado Creek is much wetter than the North Salado Creek Greenway. In spite of the exceptional drought condition, there are a few springs flowing into the creek. Instead of the dry river reed stalks to the North, the reeds here are abundant and green.

The bird with the red on its head is a male house finch. It can easily be mistaken for a female cardinal from a distance. I will post the second part of the photos from this morning on Tuesday, June 7th. Tomorrow's post is a bit of history on how I came to approach photography the way I do.

On Friday, I plan to walk from the South Side Lions Park trailhead to where I turned back at Roland Avenue today. That part of the trail is primarily upland terrain away from the creek bed.

Salado Creek Greenway, Lady Bird Johnson Park Trailhead, Northwest, Part 2

Friday May 27, 2011

During the walk this past Friday, I was delighted to be able to experience the presence of even a wider variety of birds than I had the previous Friday in Brackenridge Park. I am tempted to write in detail about each one, such as the fact that the swallows, of which there were three different species: barn, cave and cliff, can fly at up to 55 mph and make a seemingly instantaneous 180 degree turn without appearing to slow down.

But then, I would write far too much. It would only distract from the awe-inspiring impact of the experience. So, I will restrain myself and only introduce you to my feathered companions as we encounter them, adding a brief comment where appropriate.

First, there is the near silhouette of a mourning dove backlit by the early morning sky.

A red-shouldered hawk sat on the branch of a dead tree more than a quarter mile from where I was standing. In all honesty, I heard the hawk but didn't see it. I took a photo in the direction of its distinctive cry. It wasn't until later when I looked at the enlarged photo that I realized from where I had been standing, the hawk had looked like part of the tree.

Barn swallows were in abundance flying low over the ground in their characteristic fashion as they feasted on insects.

Apparently the cardinals have sensed what I wrote in an earlier post about not having any success in photographing them and no longer want to be left out.

A pair of black-bellied whistling ducks were in no rush and posed for their portraits. This was the first time I actually heard the ducks. The sound they make, while it is a stretch to call it a whistle, is more of a whistle than a quack.

Then there was this yellow-crowned night heron. He was as interested in what I was doing as I was in him. He reminded me of a diva getting a headshot for a major production. (And I have photographed a few of them in my career. (divas, not night herons))

There were a few red-winged blackbirds along the trail. This one sat in the tree long enough for me to get a photo, but like the hawk, he was a bit far away.

The black vulture made a surprise appearance when I reached the high point of the trail where it leaves the creek bed and crosses the northeast corner of the airport just past Wetmore Road. Unlike the very common turkey vulture, the black vulture is relatively rare in San Antonio. When in flight, many people mistake it for an eagle, because its wing conformation is more like a raptor and not at all like the turkey vulture's characteristic dihedral wing span.

Under both the Nacogdoches and Wetmore Road bridges, the cave swallows and cliff swallows were plentiful. First is the cave swallow and then the cliff swallow. Both of these were under the Wetmore Road bridge. The cave swallow had just come out of a turn, so was moving a bit slower than the cliff swallow as is evident from the motion blur of the latter.

Even though I had walked further than I intended, spending just over two and a half hours on the trail, this was truly a rewarding experience well worth the effort.

John James Park

Although today is Memorial Day, I felt I needed to go for a walk this morning as my body is still adapting to the new routine. So, this morning's walk was in John James Park on Rittiman Road. Salado Creek is its eastern boundary. The park is where the Salado Creek Greenway ends before the creek crosses the north end of Ft Sam Houston. As a matter of fact, the park is on land that Ft Sam Houston donated to the city in 1973. The San Antonio Audubon Society had an excellent article describing the park in a 2006 newsletter, so for more information click here.

One thing I encountered along the trail that is not included in the photos were riders from the Ft Sam Houston Equestrian Center which connects to the park by way of dirt trails along the creek. The horses were a bit skittish when they unexpectedly happened on a hiker and I have found that animals in general are wary of my forearm crutches. So I backed off the side of the trail, greeting the riders as they passed and didn't take any photos of them.

There are basically two natural ecosystems in Bexar County: the hill country ecosystem in the northern and northwestern part of the county and the brush country ecosystem in the remainder of the county. The transition is gradual. John James Park is more typical of the brush country than the hill country ecosystem.

Tomorrow's post will be part 2 of the photos I took this past Friday, May 27th along the wetland area of the creek northwest of Nacogdoches Road.