Chronicles of a Nature Photographer

By John P. Cardone

        Written to entertain and inform, Chronicles of a Nature Photographer consists of 140 pages, 15 chapters, 175 color photographs, and countless nature stories in a series of personal essays. In Chronicles, John brings the reader on a journey of nature sightings through his first-han

• Language: English
• Publisher: Waterviews Arts
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781736889275

John P. Cardone

John P. Cardone retired in December 2018 after 40 years as a writer/producer of patient education, medical education, and health promotion videos. His company, Hospital Video Network, Inc. founded in 1984 served a long list of healthcare and business clients. These days, he actively spends his time inspiring people to get outdoors with nature. John is an author, a nature photographer, a wildlife photography instructor, and a lecturer on nature topics. John grew up in Astoria, NY moving to Long Island, NY after his military service in 1970. John is proud to say he is the founder of the Long Island Authors Group and a two-time cancer survivor. This entertaining work is his sixth book, and his third foray into nonfiction. To learn more about John, his books, and his nature work, visit his website. www.WaterviewsBook.com

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Among the important motivations to write these chronicles occurred when my daughter’s family was visiting from England during the summer of 2020. Instead of looking to throw a ball in the yard, play a board game, or do any other kid-friendly activity, my grandson, Kieran, who was 11, asked me to show him some of my nature photos and tell him the stories. When his two sisters, Caitlyn and Caia, heard us start up the conversation, they joined in at the table, not wanting to miss the storytelling.

Then there are the times when I’m at an art show where I might be displaying fifteen to twenty of my nature photographs, and a conversation will come up with a prospective buyer or friendly person. I find this to be interesting because they are very attentive and seem to love the stories I tell. We get into all kinds of discussions about the photographs —where they were taken, what was happening at the time. I usually explain that every photo has a story, and that can be said for this book as well.

Starting any book project is really the beginning of a journey. Like the cover photo, you never know where the path will lead you. Except, this project was more like doing time travel because I had to go back in time by jogging my memory. Luckily, I had pictures to help me recall what happened and where. So, my idea in creating this book was to share my nature photographs, provide photography techniques, and describe my experiences. After all, what does chronicles mean anyway?

To me, chronicles means documenting personal experiences over time in a historical fashion. The essays contained in this book are a first-hand recollection of the things that happened while out in nature coupled with a pictorial summary. Most of all, I hope to entertain readers and inspire them to spend time outside in nature, maybe even with a camera. As they say in London, Shall we give it a go?

CHAPTER ONE

My Hummingbird Story: A Cancer Fight Helped By Nature

Let me start by saying that everything you read here is true and with no exaggeration or embellishment. As a nature photographer, all of my wildlife photography outings are fun-filled, even those that end up with very little to show for the effort. But let me tell you, trying to capture an image of a hummingbird is a total joy. Frustrating, yes. Difficult, yes. Rewarding, sometimes, yes. Actually... most times, yes.

Author out on the trail

(Photo by Christina Giammattei)

Hummers are elusive birds, and at two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half inches in size, they are not easy to spot. Hummers have astounding movements. They can fly vertically, backward, and even upside down. They can also hover. As a result, when they’re feeding, they fly in spurts, darting from one flower to another in unexpected patterns. They move slower around nectar feeders, most likely because the feeders provide a good amount of food. They flap their wings fifty to sixty times per second and up to eighty times when hovering, which causes the hum one might hear. While there are over 350 hummingbird species worldwide, here on Long Island, New York, where I live, there is only one type of hummingbird, the ruby-throated hummingbird. Only the mature male has the red throat.

As with any wildlife photo experience, knowing the whereabouts of your subject is key. In the spring of 2017, I learned from one of my photography students that hummingbirds could be found at the Baiting Hollow Hummingbird Sanctuary. Except, gaining access to the sanctuary at that time wasn’t easy. It was founded by Dr. Paul Adams on the grounds of his home, perched close to the bluff overlooking Long Island Sound. Only open to the public on a limited basis, visiting required a reservation managed through a secretive email process. Turned out, I was able to arrange two visits that summer.

I had already fallen in love with the pair of American bald eagles I’ve been taking pictures of for years while kayaking the Carman’s River in Brookhaven. Never mind the loving relationship I’d developed with the snowy owls I photographed while hiking the ocean and bay dunes in various parts of the Hamptons. Did I also have room in my heart for these tiny loveable creatures? The answer turned out to be, how could I not? It was love at first sight… or maybe, love at first flight. I was smitten forever.

Baiting Hollow Sanctuary

Sadly, a community lawsuit against the Hummingbird Sanctuary ended with a settlement, forcing Dr. Adams to shut down the operation. What was a nature photographer to do?

A year later, during the time I was receiving chemotherapy treatments for a lymphoma that had reoccurred after, believe it or not, almost fifteen years in remission, serendipity or luck came into play. Maybe it was an act of a higher, heavenly power looking after me. In late summer 2019, a local newspaper ran a story on various Long Island nature preserves. One was the Marine Study Center that borders the bay in Oceanside. I called my brother, Dominick, who is also a photographer and lives in Lynbrook, to arrange a visit to the Study Center with our cameras.

We spent about two hours hiking around the paths of this small but quiet preserve, soaking up the sights and taking photos of assorted wildlife around the marshes and ponds we found. Just as we were about to leave, another visitor asked me a question about my camera. Then, he asked if we saw the hummingbird garden and told us where the sitting area was. And there they were, two hummingbirds flying around, feeding on the nectar from the assorted plants bordering the property. With our mouths open in surprise, we sat down, joining a few other visitors, and started taking pictures. The excitement lasted about ten minutes and poof! They were gone for the day.

Marine Study Center

Over the next months, as the cold days of winter set in, I realized with fewer photo opportunities to take pictures of hummers, it was up to me to create a garden in my backyard to attract hummingbirds. But, was that really possible? What type of plants did I need to buy, and where would I get them? And of course, there was the big question—if I built it, would they come?

I researched the best plants and color choices, and read up on the habits of hummingbirds to tilt the wheel of luck in my favor. Next, I called a few nurseries and visited a few others to locate the plants on my list—unfortunately, without success.

Around this time, other important happenings took center stage in my life. My oncologist who was treating me at the time, Dr. Bruce Raphael, in consultation with several cancer experts, as well as Dr. Doyun Park, an expert in bone marrow transplant procedures, comprised the team that recommended an autologous stem cell transplant as the next step in the treatment of my disease. Over the next weeks, as I completed another cycle of chemotherapy and the lab results were showing improvements in my blood work, it was time for another PET Scan to determine my cancer status. In order to have my own stem cells harvested for the procedure, I needed to be in remission or very close to it. I also needed the team to declare that I was a promising candidate—first, to go through the harvesting successfully, and second, was my body and my mind strong enough for the rigors of a transplant procedure?

The weeks in November and December 2019 turned out to be very busy times. I was scheduled for various tests of my cardiac and pulmonary functions, and I reached the goal of my stem cell harvest over two long days as an outpatient. Each item on my list was checked off, and fortunately, all the questions were answered—it was a go! The last worrisome question in the process was, would there be a hospital bed available for me to have the stem cell transplant procedure?

A week into December, I got the word. I would be admitted to NYU Langone Medical Center’s Bone Marrow Transplant Unit on Christmas Eve, December 24, 2019. The estimated stay in the hospital was three to five weeks, depending on the many factors that could occur.

During my time in the hospital, using my laptop, I managed to continue the research on hummingbirds and the types of plants that attracted them. I was also visualizing where the plants would go and how large a garden I needed. In my mind’s eye, I even saw a spot for a small flowering tree. Besides having something to look forward to, I found all this garden planning was a perfect distraction from what was happening around me.

Stem cells arrive

The stem cell transplant procedure started with a five-day, daily regimen of powerful chemotherapy drugs to kill any remaining cancer cells. Unfortunately, the chemo also killed off the good blood cells as well, leaving me feeling weak and with no immunity or clotting ability. Bacterial infections were a giant concern. Frequent blood tests, temperature checks, and cardiac monitoring were performed to keep a careful eye on my health status.

Then the big day came on New Year’s Eve. That morning, the transplant nurses rolled in a cart with the canisters containing IV infusion bags of my stem cells harvested and frozen back in November. The IV was fitted to my central line and the infusions started. Hours went slowly by as each empty bag was changed over to another. And then, the transplant process was completed, and barring any dangerous reaction, the stem cells would begin their job of generating the new, replacement blood cells my body needed. Happy New Year 2020 had a special meaning for me and my wife, Kathy, who was visiting with me for New Year’s Eve.

As each day of the new year went by, the transplant team kept a watchful eye on my blood cell counts as we prayed that they would start to move upward—a process called engrafting. A spike in my temperature and a scary increase in my blood pressure sounded an alarm that something was happening. It turned out