Shallow Thoughts : tags : photography

Saw the Eclipse ... Sort Of

I'm sorry, but I have no eclipse photos to share. I messed that up. But I did get to see totality.

For the April 8, 2024 eclipse, Dave and I committed early to Texas. Seemed like that was where the best long-range forecasts were. In the last week before the eclipse, the forecasts were no longer looking so good. But I've heard so many stories of people driving around trying to chase holes in the clouds, only to be skunked, while people who stayed put got a better view. We decided to stick with our plan, which was to stay in San Angelo (some 190 miles off the centerline) the night before, get up fairly early and drive to somewhere near the centerline.

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Pixel 6a Stores the Wrong GPS in Images: an Analysis

I've been relying more on my phone for photos I take while hiking, rather than carry a separate camera. The Pixel 6a takes reasonably good photos, if you can put up with the wildly excessive processing Google's camera app does whether you want it or not.

That opens the possibility of GPS tagging photos, so I'd have a good record of where on the trail each photo was taken.

But as it turns out: no. It seems the GPS coordinates the Pixel's camera app records in photos is always wrong, by a significant amount. And, weirdly, this doesn't seem to be something anyone's talking about on the web ... or am I just using the wrong search terms?

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Clouds and Shadows from Anderson Overlook

While driving back down the hill after an appointment, I had to stop at Anderson Overlook to snap a few photos of the clouds and their shadows on the mesa.

In a Robert B. Parker novel I read many years ago, a character, musing on the view from a rich guy's house, comments, "I hear that after a while, it's just what you see out the window."

Dave and I make fun of that line all the time. Maybe it's true in Boston, but in New Mexico, I never get tired of the view and the endlessly changing light and shadow. I know people who have lived here fifty years or more and still aren't tired of it.

White Rock Kite Festival

The weather is great for this year's Kite Festival, going on right now at Overlook Park. It's a little hazy, but there's a good wind, plenty to keep the kids' small kits aloft, though the big, fancy kites were struggling a little.

Continuing through Sunday night; if you're in the area, go take a look!

A few photos: White Rock Kite Festival 2023.

Door Bunny

I've been down for a week with the Flu from Hell that's going around.

We think it's flu because the symptoms match, and because I got knocked out by it, while Dave caught a much milder case — and Dave got the double-dose-for-seniors flu shot, while I only got the regular-for-younger-folks shot. (Our COVID tests are negative and there's no anosmia or breathing impairment.)

So I haven't been getting much done lately, nor writing blog articles. But I'm feeling a bit better now. While I recover, here's something from a few months ago: our annual autumn visit from the Door Bunny.

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W is for Whiptails

Late summer is whiptail season. Whiptails are long, slender, extremely fast lizards with (as you might expect) especially long tails. They emerge from hibernation at least a month later than the fence lizards, but once they're awake, they're everywhere.

In addition to being pretty to look at, fun to watch as they hit the afterburner and streak across the yard, and challenging to photograph since they seldom sit still for long, they're interesting for several reasons.

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S is for Starlink Satellites

Monday was the last night it's been clear enough to see Comet Neowise. I shot some photos with the Rebel, but I haven't quite figured out the alignment and stacking needed for decent astrophotos, so I don't have much to show. I can't even see the ion tail.

The interesting thing about Monday besides just getting to see the comet was the never-ending train of satellites.

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Total Eclipse

My first total eclipse! The suspense had been building for years.

Dave and I were in Wyoming. We'd made a hotel reservation nine months ago, by which time we were already too late to book a room in the zone of totality and settled for Laramie, a few hours' drive from the centerline.

For visual observing, I had my little portable 80mm refractor. But photography was more complicated. I'd promised myself that for my first (and possibly only) total eclipse, I wasn't going to miss the experience because I was spending too much time fiddling with cameras. But I couldn't talk myself into not trying any photography at all.

Initially, my plan was to use my 90mm Mak as a 500mm camera lens. It had worked okay for the the 2012 Venus transit.

I spent several weeks before the eclipse in a flurry of creation, making a couple of solar finders, a barn-door mount, and then wrestling with motorizing the barn-door (which was a failure because I couldn't find a place to buy decent gears for the motor. I'm still working on that and will eventually write it up). I wrote up a plan: what equipment I would use when, a series of progressive exposures for totality, and so forth.

And then, a couple of days before we were due to leave, I figured I should test my rig -- and discovered that it was basically impossible to focus on the sun. For the Venus transit, the sun wasn't that high in the sky, so I focused through the viewfinder. But for the total eclipse, the sun would be almost overhead, and the viewfinder nearly impossible to see. So I had planned to point the Mak at a distant hillside, focus it, then slip the filter on and point it up to the sun. It turned out the focal point was completely different through the filter.

With only a couple of days left to go, I revised my plan. The Mak is difficult to focus under any circumstances. I decided not to use it, and to stick to my Canon 55-250mm zoom telephoto, with the camera on a normal tripod. I'd skip the partial eclipse (I've photographed those before anyway) and concentrate on getting a few shots of the diamond ring and the corona, running through a range of exposures without needing to look at the camera screen or do any refocusing. And since I wasn't going to be usinga telescope, my nifty solar finders wouldn't work; I designed a new one out of popsicle sticks to fit in the camera's hot shoe.

Getting there

We stayed with relatives in Colorado Saturday night, then drove to Laramie Sunday. I'd heard horror stories of hotels canceling people's longstanding eclipse reservations, but fortunately our hotel honored our reservation. WHEW! Monday morning, we left the hotel at 6am in case we hit terrible traffic. There was already plenty of traffic on the highway north to Casper, but we turned east hoping for fewer crowds. A roadsign sign said "NO PARKING ON HIGHWAY." They'd better not try to enforce that in the totality zone!

When we got to I-25 it was moving and, oddly enough, not particularly crowded. Glendo Reservoir had looked on the map like a nice spot on the centerline ... but it was also a state park, so there was a risk that everyone else would want to go there. Sure enough: although traffic was moving on I-25 at Wheatland, a few miles north the freeway came to a screeching halt. We backtracked and headed east toward Guernsey, where several highways went north toward the centerline.

East of Glendo, there were crowds at every highway pullout and rest stop. As we turned onto 270 and started north, I kept an eye on OsmAnd on my phone, where I'd loaded a GPX file of the eclipse path. When we were within a mile of the centerline, we stopped at a likely looking pullout. It was maybe 9 am. A cool wind was blowing -- very pleasant since we were expecting a hot day -- and we got acquainted with our fellow eclipse watchers as we waited for first contact.

Our pullout was also the beginning of a driveway to a farmhouse we could see in the distance. Periodically people pulled up, looking lost, checked maps or GPS, then headed down the road to the farm. Apparently the owners had advertised it as an eclipse spot -- pay $35, and you can see the eclipse and have access to a restroom too! But apparently the old farmhouse's plumbing failed early on, and some of the people who'd paid came out to the road to watch with us since we had better equipment set up.

There's not much to say about the partial eclipse. We all traded views -- there were five or six scopes at our pullout, including a nice little H-alpha scope. I snapped an occasional photo through the 80mm with my pocket camera held to the eyepiece, or with the DSLR through an eyepiece projection adapter. Oddly, the DSLR photos came out worse than the pocket cam ones. I guess I should try and debug that at some point.

Shortly before totality, I set up the DSLR on the tripod, focused on a distant hillside and taped the focus with duct tape, plugged in the shutter remote, checked the settings in Manual mode, then set the camera to Program mode and AEB (auto exposure bracketing). I put the lens cap back on and pointed the camera toward the sun using the popsicle-stick solar finder. I also set a countdown timer, so I could press START when totality began and it would beep to warn me when it was time to the sun to come back out. It was getting chilly by then, with the sun down to a sliver, and we put on sweaters.

The pair of eclipse veterans at our pullout had told everybody to watch for the moon's shadow racing toward us across the hills from the west. But I didn't see the racing shadow, nor any shadow bands.

And then Venus and Mercury appeared and the sun went away.

Totality

One thing the photos don't prepare you for is the color of the sky. I expected it would look like twilight, maybe a little darker; but it was an eerie, beautiful medium slate blue. With that unworldly solar corona in the middle of it, and Venus gleaming as bright as you've ever seen it, and Mercury shining bright on the other side. There weren't many stars.

We didn't see birds doing anything unusual; as far as I can tell, there are no birds in this part of Wyoming. But the cows did all get in a line and start walking somewhere. Or so Dave tells me. I wasn't looking at the cows.

Amazingly, I remembered to start my timer and to pull off the DSLR's lens cap as I pushed the shutter button for the diamond-ring shots without taking my eyes off the spectacle high above. I turned the camera off and back on (to cancel AEB), switched to M mode, and snapped a photo while I scuttled over to the telescope, pulled the filter off and took a look at the corona in the wide-field eyepiece. So beautiful! Binoculars, telescope, naked eye -- I don't know which view was best.

I went through my exposure sequence on the camera, turning the dial a couple of clicks each time without looking at the settings, keeping my eyes on the sky or the telescope eyepiece. But at some point I happened to glance at the viewfinder -- and discovered that the sun was drifting out of the frame. Adjusting the tripod to get it back in the frame took longer than I wanted, but I got it there and got my eyes back on the sun as I snapped another photo ...

and my timer beeped.

I must have set it wrong! It couldn't possibly have been two and a half minutes. It had been 30, 45 seconds tops.

But I nudged the telescope away from the sun, and looked back up -- to another diamond ring. Totality really was ending and it was time to stop looking.

Getting Out

The trip back to Golden, where we were staying with a relative, was hellish. We packed up immediately after totality -- we figured we'd seen partials before, and maybe everybody else would stay. No such luck. By the time we got all the equipment packed there was already a steady stream of cars heading south on 270.

A few miles north of Guernsey the traffic came to a stop. This was to be the theme of the afternoon. Every small town in Wyoming has a stop sign or signal, and that caused backups for miles in both directions. We headed east, away from Denver, to take rural roads down through eastern Wyoming and Colorado rather than I-25, but even so, we hit small-town stop sign backups every five or ten miles.

We'd brought the Rav4 partly for this reason. I kept my eyes glued on OsmAnd and we took dirt roads when we could, skirting the paved highways -- but mostly there weren't any dirt roads going where we needed to go. It took about 7 hours to get back to Golden, about twice as long as it should have taken. And we should probably count ourselves lucky -- I've heard from other people who took 11 hours to get to Denver via other routes.

Lessons Learned

Dave is fond of the quote, "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy" (which turns out to be from Prussian military strategist Helmuth von Moltke the Elder).

The enemy, in this case, isn't the eclipse; it's time. Two and a half minutes sounds like a lot, but it goes by like nothing.

Even in my drastically scaled-down plan, I had intended exposures from 1/2000 to 2 seconds (at f/5.6 and ISO 400). In practice, I only made it to 1/320 because of fiddling with the tripod.

And that's okay. I'm thrilled with the photos I got, and definitely wouldn't have traded any eyeball time for more photos. I'm more annoyed that the tripod fiddling time made me miss a little bit of extra looking. My script actually worked out better than I expected, and I was very glad I'd done the preparation I had. The script was reasonable, the solar finders worked really well, and the lens was even in focus for the totality shots.

Then there's the eclipse itself.

I've read so many articles about solar eclipses as a mystical, religious experience. It wasn't, for me. It was just an eerily beautiful, other-worldly spectacle: that ring of cold fire staring down from the slate blue sky, bright planets but no stars, everything strange, like nothing I'd ever seen. Photos don't get across what it's like to be standing there under that weird thing in the sky.

I'm not going to drop everything to become a globe-trotting eclipse chaser ... but I sure hope I get to see another one some day.

Photos: 2017 August 21 Total Solar Eclipse in Wyoming.

Comb Ridge and Cedar Mesa Trip

Last week, my hiking group had its annual trip, which this year was Bluff, Utah, near Comb Ridge and Cedar Mesa, an area particular known for its Anasazi ruins and petroglyphs.

(I'm aware that "Anasazi" is considered a politically incorrect term these days, though it still seems to be in common use in Utah; it isn't in New Mexico. My view is that I can understand why Pueblo people dislike hearing their ancestors referred to by a term that means something like "ancient enemies" in Navajo; but if they want everyone to switch from using a mellifluous and easy to pronounce word like "Anasazi", they ought to come up with a better, and shorter, replacement than "Ancestral Puebloans." I mean, really.)

The photo at right is probably the most photogenic of the ruins I saw. It's in Mule Canyon, on Cedar Mesa, and it's called "House on Fire" because of the colors in the rock when the light is right.

The light was not right when we encountered it, in late morning around 10 am; but fortunately, we were doing an out-and-back hike. Someone in our group had said that the best light came when sunlight reflected off the red rock below the ruin up onto the rock above it, an effect I've seen in other places, most notably Bryce Canyon, where the hoodoos look positively radiant when seen backlit, because that's when the most reflected light adds to the reds and oranges in the rock.

Sure enough, when we got back to House on Fire at 1:30 pm, the light was much better. It wasn't completely obvious to the eye, but comparing the photos afterward, the difference is impressive: Changing light on House on Fire Ruin.

The weather was almost perfect for our trip, except for one overly hot afternoon on Wednesday. And the hikes were fairly perfect, too -- fantastic ruins you can see up close, huge petroglyph panels with hundreds of different creatures and patterns (and some that could only have been science fiction, like brain-man at left), sweeping views of canyons and slickrock, and the geology of Comb Ridge and the Monument Upwarp.

And in case you read my last article, on translucent windows, and are wondering how those generated waypoints worked: they were terrific, and in some cases made the difference between finding a ruin and wandering lost on the slickrock. I wish I'd had that years ago.

Most of what I have to say about the trip are already in the comments to the photos, so I'll just link to the photo page:

Photos: Bluff trip, 2017.

Snowy Winter Days, and an Elk Visit

The snowy days here have been so pretty, the snow contrasting with the darkness of the piñons and junipers and the black basalt. The light fluffy crystals sparkle in a rainbow of colors when they catch the sunlight at the right angle, but I've been unable to catch that effect in a photo.

We've had some unusual holiday visitors, too, culminating in this morning's visit from a huge bull elk.

Dave came down to make coffee and saw the elk in the garden right next to the window. But by the time I saw him, he was farther out in the yard. And my DSLR batteries were dead, so I grabbed the point-and-shoot and got what I could through the window.

Fortunately for my photography the elk wasn't going anywhere in any hurry. He has an injured leg, and was limping badly. He slowly made his way down the hill and into the neighbors' yard. I hope he returns. Even with a limp that bad, an elk that size has no predators in White Rock, so as long as he stays off the nearby San Ildefonso reservation (where hunting is allowed) and manages to find enough food, he should be all right. I'm tempted to buy some hay to leave out for him.

Some of the sunsets have been pretty nice, too.

A few more photos.

Photographing Farolitos (and other night scenes)

Excellent Xmas to all! We're having a white Xmas here..

Dave and I have been discussing how "Merry Christmas" isn't alliterative like "Happy Holidays". We had trouble coming up with a good C or K adjective to go with Christmas, but then we hit on the answer: Have an Excellent Xmas! It also has the advantage of inclusivity: not everyone celebrates the birth of Christ, but Xmas is a secular holiday of lights, family and gifts, open to people of all belief systems.

Meanwhile: I spent a couple of nights recently learning how to photograph Xmas lights and farolitos.

Farolitos, a New Mexico Christmas tradition, are paper bags, weighted down with sand, with a candle inside. Sounds modest, but put a row of them alongside a roadway or along the top of a typical New Mexican adobe or faux-dobe and you have a beautiful display of lights.

They're also known as luminarias in southern New Mexico, but Northern New Mexicans insist that a luminaria is a bonfire, and the little paper bag lanterns should be called farolitos. They're pretty, whatever you call them.

Locally, residents of several streets in Los Alamos and White Rock set out farolitos along their roadsides for a few nights around Christmas, and the county cooperates by turning off streetlights on those streets. The display on Los Pueblos in Los Alamos is a zoo, a slow exhaust-choked parade of cars that reminds me of the Griffith Park light show in LA. But here in White Rock the farolito displays are a lot less crowded, and this year I wanted to try photographing them.

Canon bugs affecting night photography

I have a little past experience with night photography. I went through a brief astrophotography phase in my teens (in the pre-digital phase, so I was using film and occasionally glass plates). But I haven't done much night photography for years.

That's partly because I've had problems taking night shots with my current digital SLRcamera, a Rebel Xsi (known outside the US as a Canon 450d). It's old and modest as DSLRs go, but I've resisted upgrading since I don't really need more features.

Except maybe when it comes to night photography. I've tried shooting star trails, lightning shots and other nocturnal time exposures, and keep hitting a snag: the camera refuses to take a photo. I'll be in Manual mode, with my aperture and shutter speed set, with the lens in Manual Focus mode with Image Stabilization turned off. Plug in the remote shutter release, push the button ... and nothing happens except a lot of motorized lens whirring noises. Which shouldn't be happening -- in MF and non-IS mode the lens should be just sitting there intert, not whirring its motors. I couldn't seem to find a way to convince it that the MF switch meant that, yes, I wanted to focus manually.

It seemed to be primarily a problem with the EF-S 18-55mm kit lens; the camera will usually condescend to take a night photo with my other two lenses. I wondered if the MF switch might be broken, but then I noticed that in some modes the camera explicitly told me I was in manual focus mode.

I was almost to the point of ordering another lens just for night shots when I finally hit upon the right search terms and found, if not the reason it's happening, at least an excellent workaround.

Back Button Focus

I'm so sad that I went so many years without knowing about Back Button Focus. It's well hidden in the menus, under Custom Functions #10.

Normally, the shutter button does a bunch of things. When you press it halfway, the camera both autofocuses (sadly, even in manual focus mode) and calculates exposure settings.

But there's a custom function that lets you separate the focus and exposure calculations. In the Custom Functions menu option #10 (the number and exact text will be different on different Canon models, but apparently most or all Canon DSLRs have this somewhere), the heading says: Shutter/AE Lock Button. Following that is a list of four obscure-looking options:

• AF/AE lock
• AE lock/AF
• AF/AF lock, no AE lock
• AE/AF, no AE lock

The text before the slash indicates what the shutter button, pressed halfway, will do in that mode; the text after the slash is what happens when you press the * or AE lock button on the upper right of the camera back (the same button you use to zoom out when reviewing pictures on the LCD screen).

The first option is the default: press the shutter button halfway to activate autofocus; the AE lock button calculates and locks exposure settings.

The second option is the revelation: pressing the shutter button halfway will calculate exposure settings, but does nothing for focus. To focus, press the * or AE button, after which focus will be locked. Pressing the shutter button won't refocus. This mode is called "Back button focus" all over the web, but not in the manual.

Back button focus is useful in all sorts of cases. For instance, if you want to autofocus once then keep the same focus for subsequent shots, it gives you a way of doing that. It also solves my night focus problem: even with the bug (whether it's in the lens or the camera) that the lens tries to autofocus even in manual focus mode, in this mode, pressing the shutter won't trigger that. The camera assumes it's in focus and goes ahead and takes the picture.

Incidentally, the other two modes in that menu apply to AI SERVO mode when you're letting the focus change constantly as it follows a moving subject. The third mode makes the * button lock focus and stop adjusting it; the fourth lets you toggle focus-adjusting on and off.

Live View Focusing

There's one other thing that's crucial for night shots: live view focusing. Since you can't use autofocus in low light, you have to do the focusing yourself. But most DSLR's focusing screens aren't good enough that you can look through the viewfinder and get a reliable focus on a star or even a string of holiday lights or farolitos.

Instead, press the SET button (the one in the middle of the right/left/up/down buttons) to activate Live View (you may have to enable it in the menus first). The mirror locks up and a preview of what the camera is seeing appears on the LCD. Use the zoom button (the one to the right of that */AE lock button) to zoom in; there are two levels of zoom in addition to the un-zoomed view. You can use the right/left/up/down buttons to control which part of the field the zoomed view will show. Zoom all the way in (two clicks of the + button) to fine-tune your manual focus. Press SET again to exit live view.

It's not as good as a fine-grained focusing screen, but at least it gets you close. Consider using relatively small apertures, like f/8, since it will give you more latitude for focus errors. Yyou'll be doing time exposures on a tripod anyway, so a narrow aperture just means your exposures have to be a little longer than they otherwise would have been.

After all that, my Xmas Eve farolitos photos turned out mediocre. We had a storm blowing in, so a lot of the candles had blown out. (In the photo below you can see how the light string on the left is blurred, because the tree was blowing around so much during the 30-second exposure.) But I had fun, and maybe I'll go out and try again tonight.

An excellent X-mas to you all!

The Taos Earthships (and a lovely sunset)

We drove up to Taos today to see the Earthships.

Earthships are sustainable, completely off-the-grid houses built of adobe and recycled materials. That was pretty much all I knew about them, except that they were weird looking; I'd driven by on the highway a few times (they're on highway 64 just west of the beautiful Rio Grande Gorge Bridge) but never stopped and paid the $7 admission for the self-guided tour.

Seeing them up close was fun. The walls are made of old tires packed with dirt, then covered with adobe. The result is quite strong, though like all adobe structures it requires regular maintenance if you don't want it to melt away. For non load bearing walls, they pack adobe around old recycled bottles or cans.

The houses have a passive solar design, with big windows along one side that make a greenhouse for growing food and freshening the air, as well as collecting warmth in cold weather. Solar panels provide power -- supposedly along with windmills, but I didn't see any windmills in operation, and the ones they showed in photos looked too tiny to offer much help. To help make the most of the solar power, the house is wired for DC, and all the lighting, water pumps and so forth run off low voltage DC. There's even a special DC refrigerator. They do include an AC inverter for appliances like televisions and computer equipment that can't run directly off DC.

Water is supposedly self sustaining too, though I don't see how that could work in drought years. As long as there's enough rainfall, water runs off the roof into a cistern and is used for drinking, bathing etc., after which it's run through filters and then pumped into the greenhouse. Waste water from the greenhouse is used for flushing toilets, after which it finally goes to the septic tank.

All very cool. We're in a house now that makes us very happy (and has excellent passive solar, though we do plan to add solar panels and a greywater system some day) but if I was building a house, I'd be all over this.

We also discovered an excellent way to get there without getting stuck in traffic-clogged Taos (it's a lovely town, but you really don't want to go near there on a holiday, or a weekend ... or any other time when people might be visiting). There's a road from Pilar that crosses the Rio Grande then ascends up to the mesa high above the river, continuing up to highway 64 right near the earthships. We'd been a little way up that road once, on a petroglyph-viewing hike, but never all the way through. The map said it was dirt from the Rio all the way up to 64, and we were in the Corolla, since the Rav4's battery started misbehaving a few days ago and we haven't replaced it yet.

So we were hesitant. But the nice folks at the Rio Grande Gorge visitor center at Pilar assured us that the dirt section ended at the top of the mesa and any car could make it ("it gets bumpy -- a New Mexico massage! You'll get to the top very relaxed"). They were right: the Corolla made it with no difficulty and it was a much faster route than going through Taos.

We got home just in time for the rouladen I'd left cooking in the crockpot, and then finished dinner just in time for a great sunset sky.

A few more photos: Earthships (and a great sunset).

Double Rainbow, with Hummingbirds

A couple of days ago we had a spectacular afternoon double rainbow. I was out planting grama grass seeds, hoping to take take advantage of a rainy week, but I cut the planting short to run up and get my camera.

And then after shooting rainbow shots with the fisheye lens, it occurred to me that I could switch to the zoom and take some hummingbird shots with the rainbow in the background. How often do you get a chance to do that? (Not to mention a great excuse not to go back to planting grass seeds.)

(Actually, here, it isn't all that uncommon since we get a lot of afternoon rainbows. But it's the first time I thought of trying it.)

Focus is always chancy when you're standing next to the feeder, waiting for birds to fly by and shooting whatever you can. Next time maybe I'll have time to set up a tripod and remote shutter release. But I was pretty happy with what I got.

Photos: Double rainbow, with hummingbirds.

GIMP at Texas LinuxFest

I'll be at Texas LinuxFest in Austin, Texas this weekend. Friday, July 8 is the big day for open source imaging: first a morning Photo Walk led by Pat David, from 9-11, after which Pat, an active GIMP contributor and the driving force behind the PIXLS.US website and discussion forums, gives a talk on "Open Source Photography Tools". Then after lunch I'll give a GIMP tutorial. We may also have a Graphics Hackathon/Q&A session to discuss all the open-source graphics tools in the last slot of the day, but that part is still tentative. I'm hoping we can get some good discussion especially among the people who go on the photo walk.

Lots of interesting looking talks on Saturday, too. I've never been to Texas LinuxFest before: it's a short conference, just two days, but they're packing a lot into those two days and but it looks like it'll be a lot of fun.

Aligning images to make an animation (or an image stack)

For the animations I made from the lunar eclipse last week, the hard part was aligning all the images so the moon (or, in the case of the moonrise image, the hillside) was in the same position in every time.

This is a problem that comes up a lot with astrophotography, where multiple images are stacked for a variety of reasons: to increase contrast, to increase detail, or to take an average of a series of images, as well as animations like I was making this time. And of course animations can be fun in any context, not just astrophotography.

In the tutorial that follows, clicking on the images will show a full sized screenshot with more detail.

Load all the images as layers in a single GIMP image

Work on two layers at once

Then use the Move tool to drag the top image on top of the bottom image.

But it's hard to tell when they're exactly aligned

Use a Contrast display filter

The Contrast filter changes the colors so that dim red moon is fully visible, and it's much easier to tell when the layers are approximately on top of each other.

Use Difference mode for the final fine-tuning

In Difference mode, you only see differences between the two layers. So if your alignment is off by a few pixels, it'll be much easier to see. Even in a case like an eclipse where the moon's appearance is changing from frame to frame as the earth's shadow moves across it, you can still get the best alignment by making the Difference between the two layers as small as you can.

Use the Move tool and the keyboard: left, right, up and down arrows move your layer by one pixel at a time. Pick a direction, hit the arrow key a couple of times and see how the difference changes. If it got bigger, use the opposite arrow key to go back the other way.

When you get to where there's almost no difference between the two layers, you're done. Change Mode back to Normal, make sure Opacity is at 100%, then move on to the next layer in the stack.

It's still a lot of work. I'd love to find a program that looks for circular or partially-circular shapes in successive images and does the alignment automatically. Someone on GIMP suggested I might be able to write something using OpenCV, which has circle-finding primitives (I've written briefly before about SimpleCV, a wrapper that makes OpenCV easy to use from Python). But doing the alignment by hand in GIMP, while somewhat tedious, didn't take as long as I expected once I got the hang of using the Contrast display filter along with Opacity and Difference mode.

Creating the animation

Once you have your layers, how do you turn them into an animation?

The obvious solution, which I originally intended to use, is to save as GIF and check the "animated" box. I tried that -- and discovered that the color errors you get when converting an image to indexed make a beautiful red lunar eclipse look absolutely awful.

So I threw together a Javascript script to animate images by loading a series of JPEGs. That meant that I needed to export all the layers from my GIMP image to separate JPG files.

GIMP doesn't have a built-in way to export all of an image's layers to separate new images. But that's an easy plug-in to write, and a web search found lots of plug-ins already written to do that job.

The one I ended up using was Lie Ryan's Python script in How to save different layers of a design in separate files; though a couple of others looked promising (I didn't try them), such as gimp-plugin-export-layers and save_all_layers.scm.

You can see the final animation here: Lunar eclipse of September 27, 2015: Animations.

Studying Glaciers on our Roof

A few days ago, I wrote about the snowpack we get on the roof during snowstorms:

It doesn't just sit there until it gets warm enough to melt and run off as water. Instead, the whole mass of snow moves together, gradually, down the metal roof, like a glacier.

When it gets to the edge, it still doesn't fall; it somehow stays intact, curling over and inward, until the mass is too great and it loses cohesion and a clump falls with a Clunk!

The day after I posted that, I had a chance to see what happens as the snow sheet slides off a roof if it doesn't have a long distance to fall. It folds gracefully and gradually, like a sheet.

The underside as they slide off the roof is pretty interesting, too, with varied shapes and patterns in addition to the imprinted pattern of the roof.

But does it really move like a glacier? I decided to set up a camera and film it on the move. I set the Rebel on a tripod with an AC power adaptor, pointed it out the window at a section of roof with a good snow load, plugged in the intervalometer I bought last summer, located the manual to re-learn how to program it, and set it for a 30-second interval. I ran that way for a bit over an hour -- long enough that one section of ice had detached and fallen and a new section was starting to slide down. Then I moved to another window and shot a series of the same section of snow from underneath, with a 40-second interval.

I uploaded the photos to my workstation and verified that they'd captured what I wanted. But when I stitched them into a movie, the way I'd used for my time-lapse clouds last summer, it went way too fast -- the movie was over in just a few seconds and you couldn't see what it was doing. Evidently a 30-second interval is far too slow for the motion of a roof glacier on a day in the mid-thirties.

But surely that's solvable in software? There must be a way to get avconv to make duplicates of each frame, if I don't mind that the movie come out slightly jump. I read through the avconv manual, but it wasn't very clear about this. After a lot of fiddling and googling and help from a more expert friend, I ended up with this:

avconv -r 3 -start_number 8252 -i 'img_%04d.jpg' -vcodec libx264 -r 30 timelapse.mp4

In avconv, -r specifies a frame rate for the next file, input or output, that will be specified. So -r 3 specifies the frame rate for the set of input images, -i 'img_%04d.jpg'; and then the later -r 30 overrides that 3 and sets a new frame rate for the output file, -timelapse.mp4. The start number is because the first file in my sequence is named img_8252.jpg. 30, I'm told, is a reasonable frame rate for movies intended to be watched on typical 60FPS monitors; 3 is a number I adjusted until the glacier in the movie moved at what seemed like a good speed.

The movies came out quite interesting! The main movie, from the top, is the most interesting; the one from the underside is shorter.

	Roof Glacier
	Roof Glacier from underneath.

I wish I had a time-lapse of that folded sheet I showed above ... but that happened overnight on the night after I made the movies. By the next morning there wasn't enough left to be worth setting up another time-lapse. But maybe one of these years I'll have a chance to catch a sheet-folding roof glacier.

Aspens are turning the mountains gold

Last week both of the local mountain ranges turned gold simultaneously as the aspens turned. Here are the Sangre de Cristos on a stormy day:

And then over the weekend, a windstorm blew a lot of those leaves away, and a lot of the gold is gone now. But the aspen groves are still beautiful up close ... here's one from Pajarito Mountain yesterday.

Photographing a double rainbow

The wonderful summer thunderstorm season here seems to have died down. But while it lasted, we had some spectacular double rainbows. And I kept feeling frustrated when I took the SLR outside only to find that my 18-55mm kit lens was nowhere near wide enough to capture it. I could try stitching it together as a panorama, but panoramas of rainbows turn out to be quite difficult -- there are no clean edges in the photo to tell you where to join one image to the next, and automated programs like Hugin won't even try.

There are plenty of other beautiful vistas here too -- cloudscapes, mesas, stars. Clearly, it was time to invest in a wide-angle lens. But how wide would it need to be to capture a double rainbow?

All over the web you can find out that a rainbow has a radius of 42 degrees, so you need a lens that covers 84 degrees to get the whole thing.

But what about a double rainbow? My web searches came to naught. Lots of pages talk about double rainbows, but Google wasn't finding anything that would tell me the angle.

I eventually gave up on the web and went to my physical bookshelf, where Color and Light in Nature gave me a nice table of primary and secondary rainbow angles of various wavelengths of light. It turns out that 42 degrees everybody quotes is for light of 600 nm wavelength, a blue-green or cyan color. At that wavelength, the primary angle is 42.0° and the secondary angle is 51.0°.

Armed with that information, I went back to Google and searched for double rainbow 51 OR 102 angle and found a nice Slate article on a Double rainbow and lightning photo. The photo in the article, while lovely (lightning and a double rainbow in the South Dakota badlands), only shows a tiny piece of the rainbow, not the whole one I'm hoping to capture; but the article does mention the 51-degree angle.

Okay, so 51°×2 captures both bows in cyan light. But what about other wavelengths? A typical eye can see from about 400 nm (deep purple) to about 760 nm (deep red). From the table in the book:

Wavelength	Primary	Secondary
400	40.5°	53.7°
600	42.0°	51.0°
700	42.4°	50.3°

Notice that while the primary angles get smaller with shorter wavelengths, the secondary angles go the other way. That makes sense if you remember that the outer rainbow has its colors reversed from the inner one: red is on the outside of the primary bow, but the inside of the secondary one.

So if I want to photograph a complete double rainbow in one shot, I need a lens that can cover at least 108 degrees.

What focal length lens does that translate to? Howard's Astronomical Adventures has a nice focal length calculator. If I look up my Rebel XSi on Wikipedia to find out that other countries call it a 450D, and plug that in to the calculator, then try various focal lengths (the calculator offers a chart but it didn't work for me), it turns out that I need an 8mm lens, which will give me an 108° 26‘ 46" field of view -- just about right.

So that's what I ordered -- a Rokinon 8mm fisheye. And it turns out to be far wider than I need -- apparently the actual field of view in fisheyes varies widely from lens to lens, and this one claims to have a 180° field. So the focal length calculator isn't all that useful. At any rate, this lens is plenty wide enough to capture those double rainbows, as you can see.

About those books

By the way, that book I linked to earlier is apparently out of print and has become ridiculously expensive. Another excellent book on atmospheric phenomena is Light and Color in the Outdoors by Marcel Minnaert (I actually have his earlier version, titled The Nature of Light and Color in the Open Air). Minnaert doesn't give the useful table of frequencies and angles, but he has lots of other fun and useful information on rainbows and related phenomena, including detailed instructions for making rainbows indoors if you want to measure angles or other quantities yourself.

Pi Crittercam vs. Bushnell Trophycam

I had the opportunity to borrow a commercial crittercam for a week from the local wildlife center. Having grown frustrated with the high number of false positives on my Raspberry Pi based crittercam, I was looking forward to see how a commercial camera compared.

The Bushnell Trophycam I borrowed is a nicely compact, waterproof unit, meant to strap to a tree or similar object. It has an 8-megapixel camera that records photos to the SD card -- no wi-fi. (I believe there are more expensive models that offer wi-fi.) The camera captures IR as well as visible light, like the PiCam NoIR, and there's an IR LED illuminator (quite a bit stronger than the cheap one I bought for my crittercam) as well as what looks like a passive IR sensor.

I know the TrophyCam isn't immune to false positives; I've heard complaints along those lines from a student who's using them to do wildlife monitoring for LANL. But how would it compare with my homebuilt crittercam?

I put out the TrophyCam first night, with bait (sunflower seeds) in front of the camera. In the morning I had ... nothing. No false positives, but no critters either. I did have some shots of myself, walking away from it after setting it up, walking up to it to adjust it after it got dark, and some sideways shots while I fiddled with the latches trying to turn it off in the morning, so I know it was working. But no woodrats -- and I always catch a woodrat or two in PiCritterCam runs. Besides, the seeds I'd put out were gone, so somebody had definitely been by during the night. Obviously I needed a more sensitive setting.

I fiddled with the options, changed the sensitivity from automatic to the most sensitive setting, and set it out for a second night, side by side with my Pi Crittercam. This time it did a little better, though not by much: one nighttime shot with a something in it, plus one shot of someone's furry back and two shots of a mourning dove after sunrise.

What few nighttime shots there were were mostly so blown out you couldn't see any detail to be sure. Doesn't this camera know how to adjust its exposure? The shot here has a creature in it. See it? I didn't either, at first. It's just to the right of the bush. You can just see the curve of its back and the beginning of a tail.

Meanwhile, the Pi cam sitting next to it caught eight reasonably exposed nocturnal woodrat shots and two dove shots after dawn. And 369 false positives where a leaf had moved in the wind or a dawn shadow was marching across the ground. The TrophyCam only shot 47 photos total: 24 were of me, fiddling with the camera setup to get them both pointing in the right direction, leaving 20 false positives.

So the Bushnell, clearly, gives you fewer false positives to hunt through -- but you're also a lot less likely to catch an actual critter. It also doesn't deal well with exposures in small areas and close distances: its IR light source seems to be too bright for the camera to cope with. I'm guessing, based on the name, that it's designed for shooting deer walking by fifty feet away, not woodrats at a two-foot distance.

Okay, so let's see what the camera can do in a larger space. The next two nights I set it up in large open areas to see what walked by. The first night it caught four rabbit shots that night, with only five false positives. The quality wasn't great, though: all long exposures of blurred bunnies. The second night it caught nothing at all overnight, but three rabbit shots the next morning. No false positives.

The final night, I strapped it to a piñon tree facing a little clearing in the woods. Only two morning rabbits, but during the night it caught a coyote. And only 5 false positives. I've never caught a coyote (or anything else larger than a rabbit) with the PiCam.

So I'm not sure what to think. It's certainly a lot more relaxing to go through the minimal output of the TrophyCam to see what I caught. And it's certainly a lot easier to set up, and more waterproof, than my jury-rigged milk carton setup with its two AC cords, one for the Pi and one for the IR sensor. Being self-contained and battery operated makes it easy to set up anywhere, not just near a power plug.

But it's made me rethink my pessimistic notion that I should give up on this homemade PiCam setup and buy a commercial camera. Even on its most sensitive setting, I can't make the TrophyCam sensitive enough to catch small animals. And the PiCam gets better picture quality than the Bushnell, not to mention the option of hooking up a separate camera with flash.

So I guess I can't give up on the Pi setup yet. I just have to come up with a sensible way of taming the false positives. I've been doing a lot of experimenting with SimpleCV image processing, but alas, it's no better at detecting actual critters than my simple pixel-counting script was. But maybe I'll find the answer, one of these days. Meanwhile, I may look into battery power.

Mirror, mirror

A female hummingbird -- probably a black-chinned -- hanging out at our window feeder on a cool cloudy morning.

Time-lapse photography: stitching movies together on Linux

A few weeks ago I wrote about building a simple Arduino-driven camera intervalometer to take repeat photos with my DSLR. I'd been entertained by watching the clouds build and gather and dissipate again while I stepped through all the false positives in my crittercam, and I wanted to try capturing them intentionally so I could make cloud movies.

Of course, you don't have to build an Arduino device. A search for timer remote control or intervalometer will find lots of good options around $20-30. I bought one so I'll have a nice LCD interface rather than having to program an Arduino every time I want to make movies.

Setting the image size

Okay, so you've set up your camera on a tripod with the intervalometer hooked to it. (Depending on how long your movie is, you may also want an external power supply for your camera.)

Now think about what size images you want. If you're targeting YouTube, you probably want to use one of YouTube's preferred settings, bitrates and resolutions, perhaps 1280x720 or 1920x1080. But you may have some other reason to shoot at higher resolution: perhaps you want to use some of the still images as well as making video.

For my first test, I shot at the full resolution of the camera. So I had a directory full of big ten-megapixel photos with filenames ranging from img_6624.jpg to img_6715.jpg. I copied these into a new directory, so I didn't overwrite the originals. You can use ImageMagick's mogrify to scale them all:

mogrify -scale 1280x720 *.jpg

I had an additional issue, though: rain was threatening and I didn't want to leave my camera at risk of getting wet while I went dinner shopping, so I moved the camera back under the patio roof. But with my fisheye lens, that meant I had a lot of extra house showing and I wanted to crop that off. I used GIMP on one image to determine the x, y, width and height for the crop rectangle I wanted. You can even crop to a different aspect ratio from your target, and then fill the extra space with black:

mogrify img_6624.jpg -crop 2720x1450+135+315 -scale 1280 -gravity center -background black -extent 1280x720 *.jpg

If you decide to rescale your images to an unusual size, make sure both dimensions are even, otherwise avconv will complain that they're not divisible by two.

Finally: Making your movie

I found lots of pages explaining how to stitch together time-lapse movies using mencoder, and a few using ffmpeg. Unfortunately, in Debian, both are deprecated. Mplayer has been removed entirely. The ffmpeg-vs-avconv issue is apparently a big political war, and I have no position on the matter, except that Debian has come down strongly on the side of avconv and I get tired of getting nagged at every time I run a program. So I needed to figure out how to use avconv.

I found some pages on avconv, but most of them didn't actually work. Here's what worked for me:

avconv -f image2 -r 15 -start_number 6624 -i 'img_%04d.jpg' -vcodec libx264 time-lapse.mp4

avconv -r 15 -start_number 6624 -i 'img_%04d.jpg' -vcodec libx264 -r 30 time-lapse.mp4

Adjust the start_number and filename appropriately for the files you have.

Avconv produces an mp4 file suitable for uploading to youtube. So here is my little test movie: Time Lapse Clouds.

Sphinx Moths

We're having a huge bloom of a lovely flower called pale trumpets (Ipomopsis longiflora), and it turns out that sphinx moths just love them.

The white-lined sphinx moth (Hyles lineata) is a moth the size of a hummingbird, and it behaves like a hummingbird, too. It flies during the day, hovering from flower to flower to suck nectar, being far too heavy to land on flowers like butterflies do.

I've seen them before, on hikes, but only gotten blurry shots with my pocket camera. But with the pale trumpets blooming, the sphinx moths come right at sunset and feed until near dark. That gives a good excuse to play with the DSLR, telephoto lens and flash ... and I still haven't gotten a really sharp photo, but I'm making progress.

Check out that huge eye! I guess you need good vision in order to make your living poking a long wiggly proboscis into long skinny flowers while laboriously hovering in midair.

Photos here: White-lined sphinx moths on pale trumpets.

Time-lapse photography: a simple Arduino-driven camera intervalometer

While testing my automated critter camera, I was getting lots of false positives caused by clouds gathering and growing and then evaporating away. False positives are annoying, but I discovered that it's fun watching the clouds grow and change in all those photos ... which got me thinking about time-lapse photography.

First, a disclaimer: it's easy and cheap to just buy an intervalometer. Search for timer remote control or intervalometer and you'll find plenty of options for around $20-30. In fact, I ordered one. But, hey, it's not here yet, and I'm impatient. And I've always wanted to try controlling a camera from an Arduino. This seemed like the perfect excuse.

Why an Arduino rather than a Raspberry Pi or BeagleBone? Just because it's simpler and cheaper, and this project doesn't need much compute power. But everything here should be applicable to any microcontroller.

My Canon Rebel Xsi has a fairly simple wired remote control plug: a standard 2.5mm stereo phone plug. I say "standard" as though you can just walk into Radio Shack and buy one, but in fact it turned out to be surprisingly difficult, even when I was in Silicon Valley, to find them. Fortunately, I had found some, several years ago, and had cables already wired up waiting for an experiment.

The outside connector ("sleeve") of the plug is ground. Connecting ground to the middle ("ring") conductor makes the camera focus, like pressing the shutter button halfway; connecting ground to the center ("tip") conductor makes it take a picture. I have a wired cable release that I use for astronomy and spent a few minutes with an ohmmeter verifying what did what, but if you don't happen to have a cable release and a multimeter there are plenty of Canon remote control pinout diagrams on the web.

Now we need a way for the controller to connect one pin of the remote to another on command. There are ways to simulate that with transistors -- my Arduino-controlled robotic shark project did that. However, the shark was about a $40 toy, while my DSLR cost quite a bit more than that. While I did find several people on the web saying they'd used transistors with a DSLR with no ill effects, I found a lot more who were nervous about trying it. I decided I was one of the nervous ones.

The alternative to transistors is to use something like a relay. In a relay, voltage applied across one pair of contacts -- the signal from the controller -- creates a magnetic field that closes a switch and joins another pair of contacts -- the wires going to the camera's remote.

But there's a problem with relays: that magnetic field, when it collapses, can send a pulse of current back up the wire to the controller, possibly damaging it.

There's another alternative, though. An opto-isolator works like a relay but without the magnetic pulse problem. Instead of a magnetic field, it uses an LED (internally, inside the chip where you can't see it) and a photo sensor. I bought some opto-isolators a while back and had been looking for an excuse to try one. Actually two: I needed one for the focus pin and one for the shutter pin.

How do you choose which opto-isolator to use out of the gazillion options available in a components catalog? I don't know, but when I bought a selection of them a few years ago, it included a 4N25, 4N26 and 4N27, which seem to be popular and well documented, as well as a few other models that are so unpopular I couldn't even find a datasheet for them. So I went with the 4N25.

Wiring an opto-isolator is easy. You do need a resistor across the inputs (presumably because it's an LED). 380Ω is apparently a good value for the 4N25, but it's not critical. I didn't have any 380Ω but I had a bunch of 330Ω so that's what I used. The inputs (the signals from the Arduino) go between pins 1 and 2, with a resistor; the outputs (the wires to the camera remote plug) go between pins 4 and 5, as shown in the diagram on this Arduino and Opto-isolators discussion, except that I didn't use any pull-up resistor on the output.

Then you just need a simple Arduino program to drive the inputs. Apparently the camera wants to see a focus half-press before it gets the input to trigger the shutter, so I put in a slight delay there, and another delay while I "hold the shutter button down" before releasing both of them.

Here's some Arduino code to shoot a photo every ten seconds:

int focusPin = 6;
int shutterPin = 7;

int focusDelay = 50;
int shutterOpen = 100;
int betweenPictures = 10000;

void setup()
{
    pinMode(focusPin, OUTPUT);
    pinMode(shutterPin, OUTPUT);
}

void snapPhoto()
{
    digitalWrite(focusPin, HIGH);
    delay(focusDelay);
    digitalWrite(shutterPin, HIGH);
    delay(shutterOpen);
    digitalWrite(shutterPin, LOW);
    digitalWrite(focusPin, LOW);
}

void loop()
{
    delay(betweenPictures);
    snapPhoto();
}

Naturally, since then we haven't had any dramatic clouds, and the lightning storms have all been late at night after I went to bed. (I don't want to leave my nice camera out unattended in a rainstorm.) But my intervalometer seemed to work fine in short tests. Eventually I'll make some actual time-lapse movies ... but that will be a separate article.

Detecting wildlife with a PIR sensor (or not)

In my last crittercam installment, the NoIR night-vision crittercam, I was having trouble with false positives, where the camera would trigger repeatedly after dawn as leaves moved in the wind and the morning shadows marched across the camera's field of view. I wondered if a passive infra-red (PIR) sensor would be the answer.

I got one, and the answer is: no. It was very easy to hook up, and didn't cost much, so it was a worthwhile experiment; but it gets nearly as many false positives as camera-based motion detection. It isn't as sensitive to wind, but as the ground and the foliage heat up at dawn, the moving shadows are just as much a problem as they were with image-based motion detection.

Still, I might be able to combine the two, so I figure it's worth writing up.

Reading inputs from the HC-SR501 PIR sensor

The PIR sensor I chose was the common HC-SR501 module. It has three pins -- Vcc, ground, and signal -- and two potentiometer adjustments.

It's easy to hook up to a Raspberry Pi because it can take 5 volts in on its Vcc pin, but its signal is 3.3v (a digital signal -- either motion is detected or it isn't), so you don't have to fool with voltage dividers or other means to get a 5v signal down to the 3v the Pi can handle. I used GPIO pin 7 for signal, because it's right on the corner of the Pi's GPIO header and easy to find.

There are two ways to track a digital signal like this. Either you can poll the pin in an infinfte loop:

import time
import RPi.GPIO as GPIO

pir_pin = 7
sleeptime = 1

GPIO.setmode(GPIO.BCM)
GPIO.setup(pir_pin, GPIO.IN)

while True:
    if GPIO.input(pir_pin):
        print "Motion detected!"
    time.sleep(sleeptime)

or you can use interrupts: tell the Pi to call a function whenever it sees a low-to-high transition on a pin:

import time
import RPi.GPIO as GPIO

pir_pin = 7
sleeptime = 300

def motion_detected(pir_pin):
    print "Motion Detected!"

GPIO.setmode(GPIO.BCM)
GPIO.setup(pir_pin, GPIO.IN)

GPIO.add_event_detect(pir_pin, GPIO.RISING, callback=motion_detected)

while True:
    print "Sleeping for %d sec" % sleeptime
    time.sleep(sleeptime)

Obviously the second method is more efficient. But I already had a loop set up checking the camera output and comparing it against previous output, so I tried that method first, adding support to my motion_detect.py script. I set up the camera pointing at the wall, and, as root, ran the script telling it to use a PIR sensor on pin 7, and the local and remote directories to store photos:

# python motion_detect.py -p 7 /tmp ~pi/shared/snapshots/

Reliability problems with add_event_detect

So easy that I decided to switch to the more efficient interrupt-driven model. Writing the code was easy, but I found it triggered more often: if I walked in front of the camera (and stayed the requisite 7 seconds or so that it takes raspistill to get around to taking a photo), when I walked back to my desk, I would find two photos, one showing my feet and the other showing nothing. It seemed like it was triggering when I got there, but also when I left the scene.

A bit of web searching indicates this is fairly common: that with RPi.GPIO a lot of people see triggers on both rising and falling edges -- e.g. when the PIR sensor starts seeing motion, and when it stops seeing motion and goes back to its neutral state -- when they've asked for just GPIO.RISING. Reports for this go back to 2011.

On the other hand, it's also possible that instead of seeing a GPIO falling edge, what was happening was that I was getting multiple calls to my function while I was standing there, even though the RPi hadn't finished processing the first image yet. To guard against that, I put a line at the beginning of my callback function that disabled further callbacks, then I re-enabled them at the end of the function after the Pi had finished copying the photo to the remote filesystem. That reduced the false triggers, but didn't eliminate them entirely.

Oh, well, The sun was getting low by this point, so I stopped fiddling with the code and put the camera out in the yard with a pile of birdseed and peanut suet nuggets in front of it. I powered on, sshed to the Pi and ran the motion_detect script, came back inside and ran a tail -f on the output file.

I had dinner and worked on other things, occasionally checking the output -- nothing! Finally I sshed to the Pi and ran ps aux and discovered the script was no longer running.

I started it again, this time keeping my connection to the Pi active so I could see when the script died. Then I went outside to check the hardware. Most of the peanut suet nuggets were gone -- animals had definitely been by. I waved my hands in front of the camera a few times to make sure it got some triggers.

Came back inside -- to discover that Python had gotten a segmentation fault. It turns out that nifty GPIO.add_event_detect() code isn't all that reliable, and can cause Python to crash and dump core. I ran it a few more times and sure enough, it crashed pretty quickly every time. Apparently GPIO.add_event_detect needs a bit more debugging, and isn't safe to use in a program that has to run unattended.

Back to polling

Bummer! Fortunately, I had saved the polling version of my program, so I hastily copied that back to the Pi and started things up again. I triggered it a few times with my hand, and everything worked fine. In fact, it ran all night and through the morning, with no problems except the excessive number of false positives, already mentioned.

False positives weren't a problem at all during the night. I'm fairly sure the problem happens when the sun starts hitting the ground. Then there's a hot spot that marches along the ground, changing position in a way that's all too obvious to the infra-red sensor.

I may try cross-checking between the PIR sensor and image changes from the camera. But I'm not optimistic about that working: they both get the most false positives at the same times, at dawn and dusk when the shadow angle is changing rapidly. I suspect I'll have to find a smarter solution, doing some image processing on the images as well as cross-checking with the PIR sensor.

I've been uploading photos from my various tests here: Tests of the Raspberry Pi Night Vision Crittercam. And as always, the code is on github: scripts/motioncam with some basic documentation on my site: motion-detect.py: a motion sensitive camera for Raspberry Pi or other Linux machines. (I can't use github for the documentation because I can't seem to find a way to get github to display html as anything other than source code.)

A Raspberry Pi Night Vision Camera

When I built my http://shallowsky.com/blog/hardware/raspberry-pi-motion-camera.html (and part 2), I always had the NoIR camera in the back of my mind. The NoIR is a version of the Pi camera module with the infra-red blocking filter removed, so you can shoot IR photos at night without disturbing nocturnal wildlife (or alerting nocturnal burglars, if that's your target).

After I got the daylight version of the camera working, I ordered a NoIR camera module and plugged it in to my RPi. I snapped some daylight photos with raspstill and verified that it was connected and working; then I waited for nightfall.

In the dark, I set up the camera and put my cup of hot chocolate in front of it. Nothing. I hadn't realized that although CCD cameras are sensitive in the near IR, the wavelengths only slightly longer than visible light, they aren't sensitive anywhere near the IR wavelengths that hot objects emit. For that, you need a special thermal camera. For a near-IR CCD camera like the Pi NoIR, you need an IR light source.

Knowing nothing about IR light sources, I did a search and came up with something called a "Infrared IR 12 Led Illuminator Board Plate for CCTV Security CCD Camera" for about $5. It seemed similar to the light sources used on a few pages I'd found for home-made night vision cameras, so I ordered it. Then I waited, because I stupidly didn't notice until a week and a half later that it was coming from China and wouldn't arrive for three weeks. Always check the shipping time when ordering hardware!

When it finally arrived, it had a tiny 2-pin connector that I couldn't match locally. In the end I bought a package of female-female SchmartBoard jumpers at Radio Shack which were small enough to make decent contact on the light's tiny-gauge power and ground pins. I soldered up a connector that would let me use a a universal power supply, taking a guess that it wanted 12 volts (most of the cheap LED rings for CCD cameras seem to be 12V, though this one came with no documentation at all). I was ready to test.

Testing the IR light

One problem with buying a cheap IR light with no documentation: how do you tell if your power supply is working? Since the light is completely invisible.

The only way to find out was to check on the Pi. I didn't want to have to run back and forth between the dark room where the camera was set up and the desktop where I was viewing raspistill images. So I started a video stream on the RPi:

$ raspivid -o - -t 9999999 -w 800 -h 600 | cvlc -vvv stream:///dev/stdin --sout '#rtp{sdp=rtsp://:8554/}' :demux=h264

Then, on the desktop: I ran vlc, and opened the network stream:
rtsp://pi:8554/
(I have a "pi" entry in /etc/hosts, but using an IP address also works).

Now I could fiddle with hardware in the dark room while looking through the doorway at the video output on my monitor.

It took some fiddling to get a good connection on that tiny connector ... but eventually I got a black-and-white view of my darkened room, just as I'd expect under IR illumination. I poked some holes in the milk carton and used twist-ties to seccure the light source next to the NoIR camera.

Lights, camera, action

Next problem: mute all the blinkenlights, so my camera wouldn't look like a christmas tree and scare off the nocturnal critters.

The Pi itself has a relatively dim red run light, and it's inside the milk carton so I wasn't too worried about it. But the Pi camera has quite a bright red light that goes on whenever the camera is being used. Even through the thick milk carton bottom, it was glaring and obvious. Fortunately, you can disable the Pi camera light: edit /boot/config.txt and add this line

disable_camera_led=1

My USB wi-fi dongle has a blue light that flickers as it gets traffic. Not super bright, but attention-grabbing. I addressed that issue with a triple thickness of duct tape.

The IR LEDs -- remember those invisible, impossible-to-test LEDs? Well, it turns out that in darkness, they emit a faint but still easily visible glow. Obviously there's nothing I can do about that -- I can't cover the camera's only light source! But it's quite dim, so with any luck it's not spooking away too many animals.

Results, and problems

For most of my daytime testing I'd used a threshold of 30 -- meaning a pixel was considered to have changed if its value differed by more than 30 from the previous photo. That didn't work at all in IR: changes are much more subtle since we're seeing essentially a black-and-white image, and I had to divide by three and use a sensitivity of 10 or 11 if I wanted the camera to trigger at all.

With that change, I did capture some nocturnal visitors, and some early morning ones too. Note the funny colors on the daylight shots: that's why cameras generally have IR-blocking filters if they're not specifically intended for night shots.

Here are more photos, and larger versions of those: Images from my night-vision camera tests.

But I'm not happy with the setup. For one thing, it has far too many false positives. Maybe one out of ten or fifteen images actually has an animal in it; the rest just triggered because the wind made the leaves blow, or because a shadow moved or the color of the light changed. A simple count of differing pixels is clearly not enough for this task.

Of course, the software could be smarter about things: it could try to identify large blobs that had changed, rather than small changes (blowing leaves) all over the image. I already know SimpleCV runs fine on the Raspberry Pi, and I could try using it to do object detection.

But there's another problem with detection purely through camera images: the Pi is incredibly slow to capture an image. It takes around 20 seconds per cycle; some of that is waiting for the network but I think most of it is the Pi talking to the camera. With quick-moving animals, the animal may well be gone by the time the system has noticed a change. I've caught several images of animal tails disappearing out of the frame, including a quail who visited yesterday morning. Adding smarts like SimpleCV will only make that problem worse.

So I'm going to try another solution: hooking up an infra-red motion detector. I'm already working on setting up tests for that, and should have a report soon. Meanwhile, pure image-based motion detection has been an interesting experiment.

Raspberry Pi Motion Camera: Part 2, using gphoto2

I wrote recently about the hardware involved in my Raspberry Pi motion-detecting wildlife camera. Here are some more details.

The motion detection software

I started with the simple and clever motion-detection algorithm posted by "brainflakes" in a Raspberry Pi forum. It reads a camera image into a PIL (Python Imaging Library) Image object, then compares bytes inside that Image's buffer to see how many pixels have changed, and by how much. It allows for monitoring only a test region instead of the whole image, and can even create a debug image showing which pixels have changed. A perfect starting point.

Camera support

As part of the PiDoorbell project, I had already written a camera wrapper that could control either a USB webcam or the pi camera module, if it was installed. Initially that plugged right in.

But I was unhappy with the Pi camera's images -- it can't focus closer than five feet (though a commenter to my previous article pointed out that it's possible to break the seal on the lens and refocus it manually. Without refocusing, the wide-angle lens means that a bird five feet away is pretty small, and even when you get something in focus the images aren't very sharp. And a web search for USB webcams with good optical quality was unhelpful -- the few people who care about webcam image quality seem to care mostly about getting the widest-angle lens possible, the exact opposite of what I wanted for wildlife.

Was there any way I could hook up a real camera, and drive it from the Pi over USB as though it were a webcam? The answer turned out to be gphoto2.

But only a small subset of cameras are controllable over USB with gphoto2. (I think that's because the cameras don't allow control, not because gphoto doesn't support them.) That set didn't include any of the point-and-shoot cameras we had in the house; and while my Rebel DSLR might be USB controllable, I'm not comfortable about leaving it out in the backyard day and night.

With gphoto2's camera compatibility list in one tab and ebay in another, I looked for a camera that was available, cheap (since I didn't know if this was going to work at all), and controllable. I ordered a used Canon A520.

As I waited for it to arrive, I fiddled with my USB-or-pi-camera to make a start at adding gphoto2 support. I ended up refactoring the code quite a bit to make it easy to add new types of cameras besides the three it supports now -- pi, USB webcam, and gphoto2. I called the module pycamera.

Using gphoto2

When the camera arrived, I spent quite a while fiddling with gphoto2 learning how to capture images. That turns out to be a bit tricky -- there's no documentation on the various options, apparently because the options may be different for every camera, so you have to run

$ gphoto2 --set-config capture=1 --list-config

$ gphoto2 --get-config name [option]

Dual-camera option

Once I got everything working, the speed and shutter noise of capturing made me wonder if I should worry about the lifespan of the Canon if I used it to capture snapshots every 15 seconds or so, day and night.

Since I still had the Pi cam hooked up, I fiddled the code so that I could use the pi cam to take the test images used to detect motion, and save the real camera for the high-resolution photos when something actually changes. Saves wear on the more expensive camera, and it's certainly a lot quieter that way.

Uploading

To get the images off the Pi to where other computers can see them, I use sshfs to mount a filesystem from another machine on our local net.

Unfortunately, sshfs on the pi doesn't work quite right. Apparently it uses out-of-date libraries (and gives a warning to that effect). You have to be root to use it at all, unlike newer versions of sshfs, and then, regardless of the permissions of the remote filesystem or where you mount it locally, you can only access the mounted filesystem as root.

Fortunately I normally run the motion detector as root anyway, because the picamera Python module requires it, and I've just gotten in the habit of using it even when I'm not using python-picamera. But if you wanted to run as non-root, you'd probably have to use NFS or some other remote filesystem protocol. Or find a newer version of sshfs.

Testing the gphoto setup

For reference, here's an image using the previous version of the setup, with the Raspberry Pi camera module. Click on the image to see a crop of the full-resolution image in daylight -- basically the best the camera can do. Definitely not what I was hoping for.

So I eagerly set up the tripod and hooked up the setup with the Canon. I had a few glitches in trying to test it. First, no birds; then later I discovered Dave had stolen my extension cord, but I didn't discover that until after the camera's batteries needed recharging.

A new extension cord and an external power supply for the camera, and I was back in business the next day.

And the results were worth it. As you can see here, using a real camera does make a huge difference. I used a zoom setting of 6 (it goes to 12). Again, click on the image to see a crop of the full-resolution photo.

In the end, I probably will order one of the No-IR Raspberry pi cameras, just to have an easy way of seeing what sorts of critters visit us at night. But for daylight shots, an external camera is clearly the way to go.

The scripts

The current version of the script is motion_detect.py and of course it needs my pycamera module. And here's documentation for the motion detection camera.

A Raspberry Pi motion-detecting wildlife camera

I've been working on an automated wildlife camera, to catch birds at the feeder, and the coyotes, deer, rabbits and perhaps roadrunners (we haven't seen one yet, but they ought to be out there) that roam the juniper woodland.

This is a similar project to the PiDoorbell project presented at PyCon, and my much earlier proximity camera project that used an Arduino and a plug computer but for a wildlife camera I didn't want to use a sonar rangefinder. For one thing, it won't work with a bird feeder -- the feeder is always there, so the addition of a bird won't change anything as far as a sonar rangefinder is concerned. For another, the rangefinders aren't very accurate beyond about six feet.

Starting with a Raspberry Pi was fairly obvious. It's low power, cheap, it even has an optional integrated camera module that has reasonable resolution, and I could re-use a lot of the camera code I'd already written for PiDoorbell.

I patched together some software for testing. I'll write in more detail about the software in a separate article, but I started with the simple motion detection code posted by "brainflakes" in the Raspberry Pi forums. It's a slick little piece of code you'll find in various versions all over the net; it uses PIL, the Python Imaging Library, to compare a specified region from successive photos to see how much has changed.

One aside about the brainflakes code: most of the pages you'll find referencing it tell you to install python-imaging-tk. But there's nothing in the code that uses tk, and python-imaging is really all you need to install. I wrote a GUI wrapper for my motion detection code using gtk, so I had no real need to learn the Tk equivalent.

Once I had some software vaguely working, it was time for testing.

The hardware

One big problem I had to solve was the enclosure. I needed something I could put the Pi in that was moderately waterproof -- maybe not enough to handle a raging thunderstorm, but rain or snow can happen here at any time without much warning. I didn't want to have to spend a lot of time building and waterproofing it, because this is just a test run and I might change everything in the final version.

I looked around the house for plastic objects that could be repurposed into a camera enclosure. A cookie container from the local deli looked possible, but I wasn't quite happy with it. I was putting the last of the milk into my morning coffee when I realized I held in my hand a perfect first-draft camera enclosure.

A milk carton must be at least somewhat waterproof, right? Even if it's theoretically made of paper.

I could use the flat bottom as a place to mount the Pi camera with its two tiny screw holes,

and then cut a visor to protect the camera from rain.

It didn't take long to whip it all together: a little work with an X-acto knife, a little duct tape. Then I put the Pi inside it, took it outside and bungeed it to the fence, pointing at the bird feeder.

A few issues I had to resolve:

Raspbian has rather complicated networking. I was using a USB wi-fi dongle, but I had trouble getting the Pi to boot configured properly to talk to our WPA router. In Raspbian networking is configured in about six different places, any one of which might do something like prioritize the not-connected eth0 over the wi-fi dongle, making it impossible to connect anywhere. I ended up uninstalling Network Manager and turning off ifplugd and everything else I could find so it would use my settings in /etc/network/interfaces, and in the end, even though ifconfig says it's still prioritizing eth0 over wlan0, I got it talking to the wi-fi.

I also had to run everything as root. The python-picamera module imports RPi.GPIO and needs access to /dev/mem, and even if you chmod /dev/mem to give yourself adequate permissions, it still won't work except as root. But if I used ssh -X to the Pi and then ran my GUI program with sudo, I couldn't display any windows because the ssh permission is for the "pi" user, not root.

Eventually I gave up on sudo, set a password for root, and used ssh -X root@pi to enable X.

The big issue: camera quality

But the real problem turned out to be camera quality.

The Raspberry Pi camera module has a resolution of 2592 x 1944, or 5 megapixels. That's terrific, far better than any USB webcam. Clearly it should be perfect for this tast.

Update: see below. It's not a good camera, but it turns out I had a lens problem and it's not this bad.

So, the Pi camera module might be okay if all I want is a record of what animals visit the house. This image is good enough, just barely, to tell that we're looking at a house finch (only if we already rule out similar birds like purple finch and Cassin's finch -- the photo could never give us enough information to distinguish among similar birds). But what good is that? I want decent photos that I can put on my web site.

I have a USB camera, but it's only one megapixel and gives lousy images, though at least they're roughly in focus so they're better than the Pi cam.

So now I'm working on a setup where I drive an external camera from the Pi using gphoto2. I have most of the components working, but the code was getting ugly handling three types of cameras instead of just two, so I'm refactoring it. With any luck I'll have something to write about in a week or two.

Meanwhile, the temporary code is in my github rpi directory -- but it will probably move from there soon.

I'm very sad that the Pi camera module turned out to be so bad. I was really looking forward to buying one of the No-IR versions and setting up a night wildlife camera. I've lost enthusiasm for that project after seeing how bad the images were. I may have to investigate how to remove the IR filter from a point-and-shoot camera, after I get the daylight version working.

Update, a few days later: It turns out I had some spooge on the lens. It's not quite as bad as I made it out to be. Here's a sample. It's still not a great camera, and it can't focus anywhere near as close as the 2 feet I've seen claimed -- 5 feet is about the closest mine can focus, which means I can't get very close to the wildlife, which was a lot of the point of building a wildlife camera. I've seen suggestions of putting reading glasses in front of the lens as a cheap macro adaptor.

Instead, I'm going ahead with the gphoto2 option, which is about ready to test -- but the noIR Pi camera module might be marginally acceptable for a night wildlife camera.

Family pictures: My father, the actor

I inherited a big pile of photo albums from my mother when she passed away, and when time permits, I've been scanning them in.

Today I scanned in some old photos of my father. He used to be an actor, before I was born, and there's a wonderful collection of shots I'd never seen before showing him in various roles and costumes.

What a marvelous find. I've only uploaded a few of them so far -- there's far more needing to be scanned -- but what I have is here: O. Raymond Peck, actor.

Bluebirds and phantom horses at Arastradero

The weather was a bit warmer today than it has been, so I snuck off for an hour's hike at Arastradero, where I was amazed by all the western bluebirds out enjoying the sunny day. I counted three of them just on the path from the parking lot to the road crossing. Bold, too -- they let me get close enough to snap a shot with my pocket camera.

Farther up the trail, a white-shouldered kite was calling as it soared, and a large falcon flew by, too far away and too backlit for me to identify it for sure as a peregrine.

But then I spotted an even more unusual beast -- a phantom horse rearing out of the ground, ears pricked forward, eyes and mouth open and mane whipped by a wind we could not feel on this pleasant, windless day.

Dave always teases me about my arboronecrophotography inclinations (I like to take pictures of dead trees). But how could I resist trying to capture a creature like this?

Farewell, Space Shuttle Endeavour

This morning, the last space shuttle, Endeavour, made a piggyback fly-by of California cities prior to landing at LAX, where it will be trucked to its final resting place in Exposition Park. And what science and astronomy fan could resist a once in a lifetime chance to see the last shuttle in flight, piggyback on its 747 transporter?

Events kept me busy all morning, so I was late getting away. Fortunately I'd expected that and planned for it. While watching the flyby from Griffith Observatory sounded great, I suspected there would be huge crowds, no parking and there's no way I could get there in time. The Times suggested Universal City -- which I took to mean that there would be huge crowds and traffic there too. So I picked a place off the map, Blair Dr., that looked like it was easy to get to, reasonably high and located in between Griffith and Universal.

It turned out to be a good choice. There were plenty of people there, but I found a parking spot a few blocks away from where everybody was hanging out and walked back to the viewpoint where I'd seen the crowds.

I looked down and the first thing I saw was a smashed jumbo jet among the wreckage of some houses. Um ... not the way I wanted to see the shuttle! But then I realized I was looking at the Universal Studios back lot. Right. Though binoculars I could even see the tram where the folks on the studio tour went right by the "plane crash". And I could look across to Universal City, where the crowds made me happy I'd decided against going there -- I bet they had some traffic jams too.

The crowd was friendly and everybody was sharing the latest rumors of the shuttle's location -- "It just flew over Santa Barbara!" "It's over West Hollywood -- get ready!" "Nope, now it's going west again, might be a while." That helped with the wait in the hot sun.

Finally, "It's coming!" And we could see it, passing south of the crowds at Universal City and coming this way ... and disappearing behind some trees. We all shifted around so we'd see it when it cleared the trees.

Only it didn't! We only got brief glimpses of it, between branches, as the shuttle flew off toward Griffith Observatory. Oh no! Were we in exactly the wrong location?

Then the word spread, from people farther down the road -- "It's turning -- get ready for another pass!" This time it came by south of us, giving us all a beautiful clear view as the 747 flew by with the shuttle and its two fighter-plane escorts.

We hung around for a few more minutes, hoping for another pass, but eventually we dispersed. The shuttle and its escorts flew on to LAX, where it will be unloaded and trucked to Exposition Park. I feel lucky to have gotten such a beautiful view of the last shuttle flight.

Photos: Space shuttle Endeavour flyover.

There's a big black spot on the sun today ...

After a heart-stopping day of rain on Monday, Tuesday, the day of the Venus transit astronomers have been anticipating for decades, dawned mostly clear.

For the 3 pm ingress, Dave and I set up in the backyard -- a 4.5-inch Newtonian, a Takahashi FS102, and an 80mm f/6 refractor with an eyepiece projection camera mount. I'd disliked the distraction during the annular eclipse of switching between eyepiece and camera mount, and was looking forward to having a dedicated camera scope this time.

Venus is big! There wasn't any trouble seeing it once it started its transit. I was surprised at how slowly it moved -- so much slower than a Mercury transit, though it shouldn't have been a surprise, since I knew the event would take the rest of the evening, and wouldn't be finished until well past our local sunset.

The big challenge of the day was to see the aureole -- the arc of Venus' atmosphere standing out from the sun. With the severely windy weather and turbulent air (lots of cumulus clouds) I wasn't hopeful. But as Venus reached the point where only about 1/3 of its disk remained outside the sun, the aureole became visible as a faint arc. We couldn't see it in the 4.5-inch, and it definitely isn't visible in the poorly-focused photos from the 80mm, but in the FS102 it was definitely there.

About those poorly focused pictures: I hadn't used the 80mm, an Orion Express, for photography before. It turned out its 2-inch Crayford focuser, so nice for visual use, couldn't hold the weight of a camera. With the sun high overhead, as soon as I focused, the focuser tube would start to slide downward and I couldn't lock it. I got a few shots through the 80mm, but had better luck holding a point-and-shoot camera to the eyepiece of the FS102.

Time for experiments

Once the excitement of ingress was over, there was time to try some experiments. I'd written about binocular projection as a way anyone, without special equipment, could watch the transit; so I wanted to make sure that worked. I held my cheap binoc (purchased for $35 many years ago at Big 5) steady on top of a tripod -- I never have gotten around to making a tripod mount for it; though if I'd wanted a more permanent setup, duct tape would have worked.

I couldn't see much projecting against the ground, and it was too windy to put a piece of paper or cardboard down, but an old whiteboard made a perfect solar projection screen. There was n trouble at all seeing Venus and some of the larger sunspots projected onto the whiteboard.

As the transit went on, we settled down to a routine of popping outside the office every now and then to check on the transit. Very civilized. But the transit lasted until past sunset, and our western horizon is blocked by buildings. I wanted some sunset shots. So we took a break for dinner, then drove up into the hills to look for a place with a good ocean view.

The sunset expedition

Our first idea, a pullout off Highway 9, had looked promising in Google Earth but turned out to have trees and a hill (that somehow hadn't shown up in Google Earth) blocking the sunset. So back up highway 9 and over to Russian Ridge, where I remembered a trail entrance on the western side of the ridge that might serve. Sure enough, it gave us a great sunset view. There was only parking space for one car, but fortunately that's all we needed. And we weren't the only transit watchers there -- someone else had hiked in from the main parking lot carrying a solar filter, so we joined him on the hillside as we waited for sunset.

I'd brought the 80mm refractor for visual observing and the 90 Mak for camerawork. I didn't have a filter for the Mak, but Dave had some Baader solar film, so earlier in the afternoon I'd whipped up a filter. A Baskin-Robbins ice cream container lid turned out to be the perfect size. Well, almost perfect -- it was just a trifle too large, but some pads cut from an old mouse pad and taped inside the lid made it fit perfectly. Dave used the Baader film, some foam and masking tape to make a couple of filters for his binocular.

The sun sank through a series of marine cloud layers. Through the scopes it looked more like Jupiter than the sun, with Jupiter's banding -- and Venus' silhouette even looked like the shadow of one of Jupiter's moons.

Finally the sun got so low, and so obscured by clouds, that it seemed safe to take the solar filter off the 90mm camera rig. (Of course, we kept the solar filters on the other scope and binocular for visual observing.) But even at the camera's fastest shutter speed, 1/4000, the sun came out vastly overexposed with 90mm of aperture feeding it at f/5.6.

I had suspected that might be a problem, so I'd prepared a couple of off-axis stops for the Mak, to cover most of the aperture leaving only a small hole open. Again, BR ice cream containers turned out to be perfect. I painted the insides flat black to eliminate reflections, then cut holes in the ends -- one about the size of a quarter, the other quite a bit larger. It turned out I didn't use the larger stop at all, and it would have been handy to have one smaller than the quarter-sized one -- even with that stop, the sun was overexposed at first even at 1/4000 and I had to go back to the solar filter for a while.

I was happy with the results, though -- I got a nice series of sunset photos complete with Venus silhouette.

More clouds rolled in as we packed up, providing a gorgeous blue-and-pink sunset sky backdrop for our short walk back to the car. What a lovely day for such a rare celestial event!

Photos here: Venus Transit, June 5 2012.

Writing scripts for your Canon camera with CHDK

Time-Lapse Photography with your Inexpensive Canon Camera (CHDK p. 3)

I found that CHDK scripting wasn't quite as good as I'd hoped -- some of the functions, especially the aperture and shutter setting, were quite flaky on my A540 so it really didn't work to write a bracketing script. But it's fantastic for simple tasks like time-lapse photography, or taking a series of shots like the Grass Roots Mapping folk do.

If you're at OSCON and you like scripting and photos, check out my session on Thursday afternoon at 4:30: Writing GIMP Plug-ins and Scripts, in which I'll walk through several GIMP scripts in Python and Script-Fu and show some little-known tricks you can do with Python plug-ins.

Article: CHDK part 2

Perhaps equally important, it discusses how to access these modes and CHDK's other special menus, how to load CHDK automatically whenever you power the camera on, and how to disable it temporarily.

Part 3, yet to come, will discuss how to write CHDK scripts.

Tiny froglets at Picchetti Ranch

But sometimes you get lucky and get an indication that maybe the state of amphibians isn't as dire as all that. Mark Wagner gave me a tip (thanks, Mark!) that the pond at Picchetti Ranch was literally hopping with frogs. I thought he must be exaggerating -- but he wasn't.

They're tiny, thumbtip-sized creatures and they're everywhere around the margin of the lake, hopping away as you approach. It's tough to get photos because they move so fast and like to hide under grass stems, but like anything else, take a lot of pictures and you'll get lucky on a few.

The scene is absolutely amazing. If you're at all a frog fan in the south bay area, get yourself to Picchetti and take a look -- but be very, very careful where you step, because they're everywhere and they're hard to spot between jumps.

I unfortunately lack a good amphibian field guide, and couldn't find much on the web either, but some people seem to think these Picchetti frogs are Sierran tree frogs -- which apparently are sometimes are green, sometimes brown and have a wide range of markings, so identifying them isn't straightforward.

Photos: Tiny frogs at Piccheti Ranch.

Article: Customize or Hack your Canon camera with CHDK

CHDK is a cool way you can load custom firmware onto a Canon camera. It lets you do all sorts of useful hacks, from saving in RAW format even in cameras that supposedly don't allow that, to getting more control over aperture, shutter speed and other parameters, to writing scripts to control the camera.

I didn't have space for all that in one article, so today's Part 1 simply covers how to install CHDK; Part 2, in two weeks, will discuss some of the great things you can do with CHDK.

Tasmania Photos

DSLR Camera Foo

Why would it never happen? I enjoyed film SLRs for years ... from the Olympus OM-1 (great little manual camera) I had as a teenager to the Nikkormat EL and Nikon FG I used a decade ago. I only stopped because processing and scanning slides was such a hassle compared to the ease of uploading digital images. So why not a DSLR?

The problem was that when Nikon went digital, they orphaned all their old manual-focus lenses. They're still physically compatible (they'll screw on to the DSLR body), but peeved Nikon DSLR owners inform me (and camera store clerks agree) that the Nikon cameras won't meter with the old lens attached.

I don't mind doing my own focusing (manual focusing is one of the prime advantages of an SLR, not a disadvantage) but having to guess at the exposure setting too? "Oh, just carry a light meter," people say. On a camera that costs over $600? That bothers me.

So I was peeved at Nikon and not about to buy anything from them ... but meanwhile I had all these lenses, and hated to buy some other brand where the lenses wouldn't even screw on. So, no DSLR for me ...

Until I was pouring out my lens-mount frustrations during a camera discussion one night on #gimp and one of the regulars (thanks, Liam!) said "Well then, why don't you just get an adaptor that lets you use Nikon MF lenses on a Canon?"

A what? said I.

Sure enough, there are lots of them on Ebay ... search for canon nikon adaptor or look at Gadget Infinity's "lens adaptor" section. You can even (for a little more money) get a "confirm" lens that lights up the autofocus-confirm points in the viewfinder to tell you when the camera thinks you're in focus.

A few months passed (too busy to do camera research) but eventually I found the time and budget ... and now I have a 5-day-old Canon Rebel Xsi, which indeed takes excellent photos (correctly metered) through my old Nikon AI-mount Sigma 70-300 APO zoom macro. And the 18-55 kit lens (the equivalent of a 29-88 in a 35mm camera) isn't bad either -- a little slow (f/3.5 at the widest) but decently wide at the wide end (in the years of using pocket digicams I'd forgotten how much nicer it is to have a true wide-angle lens) and with a nice close focus for macros at the long end.

Even the autofocus isn't bad -- there are still plenty of times when I need manual, but the Rebel's autofocus is much faster and more accurate than any I'd seen on earlier cameras.

It's such a great feeling to use an SLR again. The morning after the camera arrived, I looked up and saw goldfinches at the feeder just outside the window. I picked up the camera, switched it on, pointed, zoomed, focused and snapped. No worries about whether the camera might have decided to focus on the window, or the window frame, or the tree, or the bush -- just focus and shoot. What a pleasure!

And the best part: this must be a camera made by geeks, because when it has the Nikon lens attached ... it says F00!

Dowitcher Photo Published!

Months went by (print magazines are slow) and I wondered if the plan had been dropped, but last week I heard from the author, Caleb Putnam, and the article is in the current (July/August) issue! Yesterday I received a copy of the magazine and a modest payment. Cool!

Even cooler, the photo is the frontispiece of the article. The author says he's received many comments about how great a shot it is for illustrating molt gaps. That's a pull quote if I ever heard one: "Great shot for illustrating molt gaps."

The article is interesting as well -- I didn't know that molt patterns could identify the two species of dowitcher. Telling long-billed and short-billed dowitchers apart has been beyond my modest birding skills, but perhaps I'll have better luck now. I'll be heading out to Baylands today at lunch to see what the dowitchers are doing ...

Freeway Fire

Fortunately the fire department responded incredibly quickly (must have been less than five minutes from when I heard the bang to when the fire truck arrived) and they were able to put the fire out before it spread far.

I hope someone saw whoever threw the firecracker, and got a license plate.

Musings on photo workshops and classes

The presentation was a little disappointing, just people showing slides of recent photographs. No discussion of techniques or interesting ideas for night photography, things to try out that night.

It was mildly fun for the couple of us who were Linux users to watch the Windows people fumble with their JASC slideshow program trying to get it to present photos at a reasonable size. Whenever I wonder why I bother to keep maintaining pho, I look at what Windows and Mac people have to go through to look at photos and am amazed all over again.

But strangely, before heading off to Marin yesterday, I did some searching for other linux image viewing programs, to see if they'd solved the window manager problems I've been wrestling with for pho. Amazingly, I couldn't find a single free program in Debian that did what pho does (namely, view a list of images serially, at full size or screen resolution). I had to search for xv source (not in Debian, probably licensing issues), which requires a couple of tweaks to get it to build on linux, and which has the same window management issues pho has. I guess I'll keep maintaining it after all!

After dark we trooped up the hill to photograph lights (Richmond and the Richmond-San Rafael bridge were visible, along with parts of Marin) and wait for moonrise. I took an SLR and the Minolta, and wish I'd taken the Olympus -- nearly everyone else had digital SLRs (Canon) and I wished for something with a decent zoom which would still give me exposure feedback. It's not as if bay area skies can support long star-trail exposures anyway. Moonrise was lovely, a sliver of moon emerging above a thick cloudbank centered over the San Rafael bridge, and growing into a full-sized moon. I hope some of the film photos (on old expired PJM multispeed film!) come out.

Most of the photographers there knew each other from previous classes (I wasn't clear how many are students versus instructors) and most of the group spent the hour before moonrise clustered together taking turns taking the same shot, a person silhouetted against the lights of Richmond while someone else fired a flash from behind the person, back toward the camera, giving an "aura" effect around the silhouette and lighting the nearby grass a bit. Not really knowing anyone, I hung back and instead worked on photos of the various photographers silhouetted against the sky (which may or may not come out; I was shooting from 10 sec to about 3 min, betting on the Marin sky being too bright for longer star trails, but we'll see. One of the other solo shooters was shooting 10 minute exposures and people kept walking into her frame.) Dave shot a few Canon digicam images before the sunset light was completely gone, then the wind got to him and he went back to the house and didn't wait for moonrise.

I'd wondered about maybe taking one of their regular workshops, but this outing was a bit like the couple of other photo workshops I've done: no real instruction or sharing of ideas, basically just a bunch of people wandering around taking photos. If you have specific questions or know the instructors already you might be able to get questions answered, but as a person new to the group, I felt like I'd probably do just as well just going somewhere on my own and taking a lot of photos.

It may be that their multi-day pay workshops involve more instruction, and more feedback the next day on images taken at the workshop. I'm curious about that; the few photo seminars and classes I've taken have also promised feedback afterward, but haven't had much, if any.

Sometimes I think that the ideal format for a photo workshop is an online class: give assignments, then people post their photos a few days or a week later, and everyone discusses them, then you go off to the next assignment with what you learned based on the feedback. The important parts are the discussion and the feedback, not being in the same physical place during the shooting (since not much instruction seems to take place then, for most participants, and if it does it seems to be of the type "everybody line up and take exactly the same photo"). It's hard to do feedback in a several-day workshop at a place like Death Valley when people are shooting film and you can't get it developed quickly enough; a digital camera might be a prerequisite to getting much out of that sort of workshop.