Text and photos by Scott Monroe

An arctic blast of cold air has swept through the Northeast this week; temperatures have topped out in the 20s and 30s. All of a sudden, here in central Maine, winter seems to be on its way.

A walk I took through the woods in Waterville Friday morning bears that out. Puddles have frozen over twigs and leaves; patches of ice create interesting art designs on the banks of streams and ponds; and the woods are bare, quiet.

The calendar says winter doesn't start for another month. But we know better.

Photos and text by Andy Molloy

Let there be fog.

The curtain of drizzle that descended upon the Kennebec River this week displayed a natural paradox. Winged ones were more abundant but less apparent.

Flapping wings could be detected before ruffled feathers could be spotted.

Yet the occasional burst of light exposed ducks roosting comfortably upon the river.

I exceeded the bag limit Saturday but never fired a shot.

While sitting in a blind with Ryan, as his shotgun remained idle, I blasted away.

Philip, left, and Paul collected their decoys without a bird in the bag either.

While my companions kept their powder dry, I blew through a memory card of photos - almost 2 gigs worth - to create this posting. At 9:30 a.m. we went home cold, wet and mystified by the lack of ducks. A delightful duck hunt and I have proof.

I am a dedicated nimrod with a Nikon. The transition from 12 gauge to 600 f/4 commenced a decade ago.

I started giving it all away - from gear to gullies - to my duck hunting crew. Paul received my blinds and flyways. Ryan obtained hip waders, camo and decoys. Philip hunts with my old shotgun and canoe. I kept the lenses and camera bodies.

Now I rarely return from hunting without something aside from laments.

The men who introduced me to hunting as a child, Uncles Bob and David, appreciated that photography season never closes. They encouraged me, as an adult, to pursue wild game with a camera.

On a rainy day two weeks ago, my uncles and I ate lunch in David's kitchen next to the ripping wood stove. Bob stated that a slug of song birds were migrating through the farm that day. David said a that bush beyond the barn was mobbed by Robins.

I heeded the advice of my guides and pursued the berry bush.

After an hour, the photo of a Robin chomping berries was captured and filed in my memory card.

Bob and David never moved away from the wood stove. They claimed that the view - of a photographed crouched in pouring rain - was too good to ignore.

Photo by Andy Molloy

Snapping turtles are meandering across Maine roads during their annual emergence to deposit eggs.

Photos by Andy Molloy

The hues of spring are on full display.

Friday #1: Kingfishers

All photos by Andy Molloy
At 5:53 a.m. Friday a Kingfisher surveyed the Kennebec River for fish.

Friday #2: Hen Mallard

By 6:05 a.m. a hen Mallard descended upon the Kennebec River before returning to their nests.

Friday #3: Baltimore Oriole

Around 6:09 a.m. a Baltimore Oriole serenaded the Kennebec.

Friday #4: Hen Hummingbird

At 10:30 a.m. a hen Ruby-throated Hummingbird arrived on the river.

Friday #5: Drake Ruby-throated Hummingbird

A drake Ruby-throated Hummingbird arrived at 11:42 a.m.

Friday #6: Hawk and Sparrow

At 12:03 p.m. hawk swooped in for lunch on the Kennebec River with a sparrow.

Friday #7: Hen Redstart

At 1:39 p.m. an American Redstart hen dropped by the Kennebec.

Staff photo by Andy Molloy

A ruffed grouse challenges a visitor Friday in Augusta. The most common upland game bird in Maine, the ruffed grouse - or partridge - is encountered in woodlots across southern Maine.

With spring breeding season under way, male grouse are often heard drumming their wings to solicit the companionship of hens.

The partridge courtship only lasts a few days.

Females go it alone, seeking nests at the base of trees, under piles of slash and along overgrown stone walls. When encountered while roosting on eggs, the female may display a “broken wing” to draw predators away from nests.

by Andy Molloy, staff photographerr

How did you get that photo?

If the answer includes brutal conditions, an odd species and long odds, I will regale you.

The reply often takes longer than the time to make the photograph. A general rule usually applies: I just walk out my door. Nature abounds along the Kennebec River in Hallowell.

I've spotted foxes, fishers, a bobcat, deer, moles, beaver and otters. Yet the moose along the Kennebec River have eluded me.

The rolling hills and large bogs along the Kennebec River give moose ample shelter. They are rarely encountered and are always challenging to photograph. The Mainers among us understand the critter and the conditions.

George Myers, however, is from a flat land. He relocated from Ohio before assuming the duties of the acting city editor at the Kennebec Journal a few weeks ago.

He told me that biologists at Inland Fisheries and Wildlife were concerned about moose presenting a hazard to snowmobilers. Would I be so kind, he asked, to photograph a moose when I encountered one that day?

I looked out the window at the snow falling. I had not seen a moose in six months. And that one was discovered in Jackman riding in the bed of a pickup.

Before I replied Megan Robinson spoke up. She works as a clerk at the KJ performing a dozen tasks each day that produces the daily miracle called a newspaper. "There's a moose wandering around Sidney," she said. "They saw him an hour ago."

I arrived in Sidney that afternoon and knocked on a few doors. Nobody had seen a moose on the River Road. One kind lady told me as she pointed across from her farm they wander around that field. So I wandered around the field myself and discovered fresh moose tracks in the snow.

I meandered for about a mile in my snowshoes before encountering the moose napping beneath an oak, right along the River Road. I returned to my truck, drove to the moose's bed and photographed it in recline.

George was delighted to learn that the moose was relaxing in a field. A flat land indeed.

To order reprints of photos, click here.

A Pine Grosbeak collects a berry Tuesday from a tree in Augusta.

Foraging birds are the epicenter of my winter photos.

Words & photos by Andy Molloy, staff photographer

Robins and Cedar Waxwings are the native actors who always enter the visual stage to eat berries.

I spotted a huge flock of birds at dawn recently attached to a fruit tree.

I pulled over, put the camera over my shoulder and sprinted through the fresh snow.

A few yards from the tree, resonating with chirps, I focused the lens on a bird perched in a cluster of berries.

It was an avian freak show. They were neither Robins nor Waxwings.

The Canadians had invaded. The fruit munchers were Pine Grosbeaks who had come in large numbers from the boreal forest of Canada. A spectacular site encountered across Maine this winter.

I burned a 100 frames and returned to my truck. The flock rose, flew across Western Avenue and landed on a fruit tree in front of the Augusta Armory.

I gave chase. The tree, a mix of white snow and blood red berries, was irresistible. I pulled out the long, 500mm lens and started banging frames from inside my truck.

I turned to a knock on my passenger door. It was a soldier. He indicated I should roll down the window. "What are you up to?" h
e asked.

I explained that I was photographing the birds a few feet from us.

He studied the flock clucking with berry delight. He said it was all right if I stayed. He was just vigilant about intruders.

I said he found some airborne ones. From Canada. The tree was overrun. Hundreds had descended. They already conquered an apple tree across the road...

Have a nice day, he said, before abruptly walking back into the armory.

A male Pine Grosbeak eats the buds from a maple tree Thursday in Augusta. The boreal finch is native to Canada and the western United States. Bird watchers are reporting flocks of the birds feeding on fruit in Maine this winter.

To order reprints of photos, click here.

Staff photo by Andy Molloy
An American Bald Eagle lands with the carcass of a gull it it killed along the banks of the Kennebec River in Augusta in 2005. A flock of gulls and a murder of crows mobbed the eagle as it sat on the ice next to an emerging spot of water. Provoked, the eagle pinned a gull to the ice. The eagle ate his meal in peace until resuming his flight upstream.

About the shot

A classic winter bird fight raged above the Kennebec River. Gulls shrieking, crows squawking and a lone eagle uttering pathetic chirps.

Two women had joined me beneath Memorial Bridge in Augusta while I photographed the Bald Eagle being mobbed in the air by gulls and crows.

"Eagles don't consume birds," I told the women. I clicked a few frames. They are fish eagles, I explained, devoting most of their energy to capturing critters beneath the water.

I had a captive audience: An eagle in the lens and a pair of ladies watching me. The gulls dove on the eagle and crows snatched at it while it wobbled in the sky above the Kennebec River.

It's a shame, I recall saying, because eagles could eat well and eat often if they did eat birds. But, I said with pitiful emphasis, they don't.

At that moment the eagle turned, dove and snatched a gull with its talons. Silence from my companions and silence in the sky as the murder of crows and mob of gulls abandoned the eagle's airspace. The eagle calmly picked apart the gull on the shelf of ice next to the flowing Kennebec.

"What else don't they eat?" one of my friends asked.

Silence from the photographer, too.

--by Andy Molloy, Kennebec Journal staff photographer

To order reprints of photos, click here.

From Kennebec Journal staff photographer Andy Molloy. "Everybody was seeing the same thing at the same time. I thought it was really cool that we were sharing the same thing." Andy used 500mm and 600mm lenses, shooting at f/4, and shutter speeds ranging from 1/500th to 1/15 of a second. He also changed the ISO rating from 200 to 2000 to accommodate the moon's decreasing brightness. As the the lunar eclipse progressed, the moon got so dark that a higher ISO was needed to use a shutter speed fast enough to freeze the moving moon's image.

Ironically, Andy had to get down on his hands and knees to shoot the moon. It was so high in the sky that his three-foot-long tripod-mounted lens and camera was just waist-high at the viewfinder.

From Morning Sentinel staff photographer Jeff Pouland. "I felt compelled to photograph the lunar eclipse because the weather cooperated. Wednesday night the sky was incredibly clear and the scene was too beautiful to pass up. I started taking photos around 9:20 p.m. and finished taking shots around 10:15 p.m.

"Because the angle of the moon was so high, I was unable to use a tripod. Instead, I bundled up and laid down on my front porch. I used a 500mm lens with a 1.4x teleconverter. I turned in four photos to show the progression of the earth's shadow moving across the moon. My first exposure was ISO 1600 1/400 sec at f/5.6. Photo number two was ISO 1600 at 1/13 sec. at f/5.6. Photo number three was ISO 1600 at 1/5 sec. at f/5.6 and my final exposure was ISO 1600 at 1/5 sec. at f/5.6. Since I was using a big lens and slow shutter speeds, I used my motor drive to capture some photos without motion blur. I also used BRAS from my days as a boy scout to hold the camera as still as possible. That's: Breath, Relax, Aim and Shoot."

From Kennebec Journal and Morning Sentinel chief photographer Jim Evans: "I was trying to show the eclipse happening in our area. Colby College's well-known weather vane would work well, I hoped. Luckily you can park nearly anywhere you want at Colby that time of night (as long as you don't leave your car there too long), so I drove right up to Miller Library. My fingers were numb by the time I got my metal tripod set up and camera mounted, but the passing students who were watching the sky and commenting on the experience made up for the hassle.

"The moon moves slowly across the sky and the weather vane spins with a slight breeze so making a night photo is a bit tricky. Boosting the ISO to 800 allowed me to shoot at f/22 at 1/20th of a second while using a 400mm lens and a tripod. Although I was hoping for more detail in the moon, I liked the slight blurring I got because of the feeling of this fleeting event. That's the sort of happy accident I hope for."