The Story Behind the Image: Sandhill Cranes at Sundown

 For a good number of years now I have enjoyed photographing Sandhill Cranes. A few thousand of them migrate through Kentucky and will winter over around Barren River Lake. Photographing them has been hit and miss the last several years as their patterns have changed somewhat. However, there is a location about a three hour drive from where I live where somewhere between 30,000 and 40,000 Sandhills winter over. That location has provided numerous photographic opportunities to capture these amazing birds.

 Not far from Seymour Indiana are thousands of acres of farmland where soy and corn and wheat are grown. These fields provide an abundant source of food for the migrating Sandhills and late December and well into January it is possible to find huge flights of Sandhills using these and other surrounding fields. On one remarkable outing a few years ago, I encountered an estimated 30,000 (probably more) of them and spent an entire day from before sunrise to after sunset photographing them. Although I managed to capture hundreds of photographs that day, a single image captures the essence of the experience. I call the image Sandhill Cranes at Sundown. Here is the story of how the photograph was captured.

A week or so into January 2020, word came down that a huge flight of Sandhill Cranes had been using the fields west of Seymour for the past couple of months and I made plans to journey up there and hoped to capture a few good images. My plan was to leave very early, about 2:30ish AM so I could be on location before sunrise and maybe capture images and video of the morning flight off their roosting area. I did not know for sure what to expect, but with a sleep deprived fog hovering around my eyes I headed out that morning and arrived a little while before official sunrise. The sky was overcast at that time, but forecast indicated partly cloudy skies as the day progressed. 

Only a few minutes passed after I had pulled into an area I could park off the road, an area about midway across a large expanse of cornstubble, when I stepped out of my Jeep to survey the situation. Within a minute or so, I heard the high pitched, chattering roar of thousands of Cranes lifting off their roost probably less than a mile from where I was.

I grabbed my Nikon camera that I often use for shooting video, and made a quick exposure adjustment. The light was very low, but I simply pointed the camera hand held toward the rising cloud of Cranes and followed them as they flew overhead. I was simply awestruck at the sight. In the past I had witnessed several thousand snow geese rise like that and even had seen a couple thousand Sandhills rise over near Barren River Lake, but nothing prepared me for what was playing out in front of me at that moment. I simply cannot put what happened into words, so I'll let the video speak for itself.

 It seemed to take half the morning for all the birds to pass over, but eventually they did, but it was not long after the sun came up they began to return in huge numbers and set down in the corn fields. I spent pretty much all day driving around the area looking for photo ops and managed to shoot hundreds of photos and shot a great deal of video footage as well that was eventually placed into a BTC video production called, Ancient Migration.

By mid-afternoon many of the cranes had exited the area with just a few stragglers hanging around. The cloud cover was broken and as the sun lowered toward sunset, I realized there would be a magnificent sunset to end this already incredible day. I hoped the Cranes would return before then and head back to the same roost from which they lifted off that morning. As the day began to wain, there were but a few Cranes drifting by, but maybe 20 minutes of so before sundown, the Cranes began to return. Wave after wave of them drifted over my location and I began to shoot photos and video wishing I  could clone myself into a group of three people to capture everything that seemed to happening all at once.

One large group flew across the fields and headed directly into the setting sun, and I fired off several photos. Most of the images were shot at f/22, 1/3200 of a second shutter, ISO 200, and 500mm, using a 10 frame/sec burst, from a tripod. I thought my camera was going to wearout from all the shooting. I had no idea if I was capturing anything of value, I simply fired off photo after photo and captured video footage as I could.

Eventually, although Cranes were still flying, it grew too dark to capture anything and I called it a day and began the 3 hour journey home. It wasn't until the next day I was able to truly see what my camera held and I was simply overwhelmed by the footage. It was truly a remarkable day afield and this single image, as pleased as I am with the results, does not come close to capturing just how awe inspiring that single day afield truly was.

Canoe Season is Almost Here

It was a productive fall and winter with several canoeing trips and backpacking trips. The last couple of months I've been in a holding pattern as I wait for the seasonable weather to settle down.

Looking forward to the new canoeing season for 2024. I've got several local adventures planned including an end to end multi-day trip on Barren River Lake, Exploring Nolin Lake among others, some underwater photography on Trammel Creek and Long Creek...plus other overnighter and single day trips.

Hope you join me as Beyond the Campfire sets off on another season...Here's a quick preview and look back...

Spring: The Hardest Season to Photograph

 Here in Kentucky we experience four distinct seasons. I'd venture to guess that Spring is likely the season most look forward to. As a photographer I tend to photograph all year round, however, over the years I've come to the conclusion that the Spring season is the most difficult to capture. 

For some reason I've never been able to capture the impact of the Spring season very well. I've tried, but seems like I am always disappointed with the results. Spring is the kind of season your eyes see all kinds and splashes of color scattered across the landscape, but somehow, all of that color simply does not translate well into photographs.

 I've come to the conclusion that in order to photograph Spring you have to get in close to the subject and use depth of field and a blue sky to frame your subject. Sometimes getting in close means to get down low. There are a myriad of small spring flowers that cover the lawn and they bloom pretty much all through the season and well into the summer. But you gotta get right down on the ground to capture them in a way they do not become a cliched image.

This is where depth of field comes into play. By using a long lense and a large aperture, then focusing on the main subject, the foreground and background blur, and the small blooms suddenly become isolated to stand out against all of the clutter surrounding them.

If I were to collect all of my photographs by season, Spring would contain the fewest images. Most of my Spring images pretty much look the same with very few appearing as a unique image moment. Even so, as mentioned above, the most effective Spring images I've made tend to be close in shots. One good thing about the Spring season is how volatile the sky can become. Thunder storms roll across the landscape, cloud formations vary from high wispy clouds, to strong fluffy rolls, to dark and foreboding, to brilliantly lit filled with color. I believe the trick to photographing the Spring season is to focus on the weather using the blooming landscape as the accent.

Many times dark clouds infiltrate across the sky after the sun has warmed the earth and created a caldron mix of humidity and heat that feeds the stormy conditions. This will often lead to an end of the day breaking up of those clouds where the sun suddenly breaks through and lights up the sky. 

Some of the best combinations of conditions and light will occur during this time and provide for some interesting if not downright unusual lighting. 

There is one location not far from home where the Spring bloom offers a wonderful backdrop. It's a campground, near the lake, that is covered in dozens of mature dogwood trees accented with redbuds. The dogwoods create a canopy of white blooms that are simply spectacular and I will often visit the location in mid-April for that reason alone.

Dogwoods I believe make the best subjects. They come in white and various shades of pink and when planted together make a lovely sight. Closeup, dogwood blooms offer a powerful yet delicate blend of aesthetic nature at her best. You can as a photographer do so much with them and they convert well into black and white. 

If I were to choose a single Spring photograph I've made, one I actually like, it is the one I made some years ago of dogwood blooms growing next to a split rail fence. I added a bit of blur to the image yet focused on the central blooms and converted it into a black and white image. Compositionally it is strong and aesthetically is offers a blend of softness and an enduring Spring-like moodiness.

Spring can be an amazing time of year for the photographer and at the same time a challenging time. Capturing it as a single context of photographs is not easy, but when taking the time to actually see what is there and focusing on the details, well, the hardest season to photograph can become one of the most productive.

 

The Canoe: A Sense of Unspoiled Freedom

 The sunrise lingered that morning yet presented itself as a token of light spreading across the sky. A few clouds hovering above the ridgetops caught some of the first light of the morning and began to softly glow casting their reflection across the almost still water. Just a gentle ripple rolled across the surface of the lake, and that motion was barely enough to distort and provide movement to those reflections. All I could hear were a few birds greeting the morning and the rhythmic soft splash of my paddle as I glided along in my Old Town Camper canoe. The once silent morning started to stir to life and I experienced a satisfying sense of unspoiled freedom as I became one with the first moments of the day.

Internet Photo

The canoe is perhaps the most versatile watercraft ever devised. Having its roots going way back to the Native American birchbark canoes, known from the history of the northern latitudes of United States and Canada, it is today mostly a recreational craft made from modern materials. Even so, the birchbark canoe, in areas where horses and wagons were virtually useless, was most responsible for opening up the interior of North America. Some of those early canoes ranged as large as over 30 to 35 feet in length and 4 to 5 feet in diameter to the smaller single man canoes of similar construction. 

Shooting the Rapids (Internet Photo)

Known as freighter canoes, the larger ones could carry several tons of cargo yet were fast, durable, easy to portage, and provided an effective means of carrying goods deep into and out of the wilderness of Canada and the northern United States. Hearty voyagers manned those freighter canoes and lived a rugged and dangerous life often covering over 50 miles per day for days on end. 

As a nature photographer, my canoe has provided me with a lightweight and capable craft I have used to place myself in locations that offer a higher potential for quality photographs. 

The only real limitation I have with it is the wind. You must avoid open water trips when it is windy. But over the years I have spent many hours paddling and canoe camping on rivers and lakes. In more recent times I have concentrated on paddling across lakes and have managed a good number of overnight and multi day trips.

My canoe is an Old Town brand Camper model. Sixteen feet in length it offers an almost perfect blend of versatility; large enough for two and small enough for a single paddler. 

It's hull design is better suited for flat water but is more than capable of handling moving water including light to moderate whitewater. More than anything else, it provides me a means to experience the outdoors, maybe not so much like the voyagers of old did, but in a way where I can imagine myself heading off into the wilds of Canada. In deed, someday I hope to travel to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Minnesota. But, until that time, I will explore the local bodies of water near my home here in Kentucky.

When I am out paddling, I become an unfettered spirit, one with nature and my craft. The hours seem to drift along with the clouds and my time on the water becomes a purposeful activity where I am physically and mentally exercising my desire to simply get away. Nothing can compare to, at day's end, pulling off onto a gravel beach and setting up a stealthy campsite, then gathering firewood and cooking a hot meal using a cast iron skillet. Once filled with good camp food, I can lean against an old piece of driftwood and watch the setting sun write across the sky, its epath for the day. 

Paddling into the sunset offers a surreal blend of moment, time, and place. When the air grows soft and the breeze slumbers, the warmth of an end of day paddle lifts one spirits far more than most moments and eventually, when stiff muscles are allowed to relax, the mind is allowed to refresh itself, and the heart is filled with memories I can recall any time. Then, when morning breaks the stillness of the night, a chill in the air can often generate a fog that drifts across the waters. Paddling during such moments is certainly one of the great pleasures of being there.

Being retired has its rewards and each time I witness a blue sky filled with summer clouds reflecting off the water, I am grateful for the moment and the physical ability to be there, and as long as I am still able to do so, I will continue loading my canoe and spending time on the water with the breeze at my back, the warm sun in my face, and a sense of unspoiled freedom lingering within my heart. 

Although long since separated by time, I feel as one with those voyagers of old, a kindred spirit of sorts, where in my imagination I sing the old songs they used to sing as they journeyed into the wilderness...

Ho! for the tumbling rapids' roar!

Ho! for the rest on lone lake shore!

We live beneath the old canoe,

and sleep beside as the rivers roar...

Other Values: Memories for a Lifetime

 The sleepy fog that hovered around my eyes all but evaporated once I started my hike across the Oklahoma Tallgrass Prairie. The going was rough with the tallgrasses brushing against my now damp pant legs --- dampness from the early morning rain and heavy dew that filled the prairie with a fresh aroma. Early I had arrived, seeking to observed the sunrise --- No legendary sunrise this morning, just a prevailing heavy overcast but one filled with textures and various shades of blue gray. As it almost always does on the prairie a stiff breeze cut across the morning touching the tops of the tallest of the blooms and grasses exciting them into a prairie dance. A carpet of countless blooms extended deep into the shallow ravine. Their soft and gentle undulations from the wind brought the prairie alive with subtle movement as song birds kept time with their morning musical serenades.  

About every twenty steps or so a Meadow Lark would take to wing, sometimes two or three at a time --- fly about thirty or forty yards, spread their wings, and set down again. They appeared just a small, brown and yellow speck when observed within such an open expanse.  After about a quarter mile or so of hiking I arrived at the rocky outcropping that overlooked the arroyo spread out and below. It was a familiar place, one I discovered a good number of years before. I stopped for a brief rest and stepped up on the largest rock formation. When I did, a single bobwhite quail burst from a clump of grass a few yards away and flew just above the grasses like a miniature, brown missile to finally disappear beyond a shallow rise. I was here, again, to take from this place a few photographs. What happened turned out to be something entirely different, for this throwback prairie from another era offered me something far more valuable than a simple photograph or two --- it offered, and I received from it other values: A new memory added to the already extensive collection of memories --- another one that would last for a lifetime.

I write and share many stories and photographs about the Tallgrass Prairie. There are reasons for doing so I suppose, but there are never enough words nor fine enough photographs to convey the full impact of such a place. The experience of being there is such a personal moment and not one that can easily be conveyed to others --- others who unfortunately may never develop the same level of appreciation for such things. I guess the most valuable lesson I have been gifted by exploring the prairie, is understanding the importance of the other values imparted by doing so. 

The prairie is a natural theater best observed not from the edges, but when fully surrounded within it. You cannot truly experience the magnitude of the prairie by simply driving through, and no quantity of photographs can capture the depth and impact of being there. They serve only to touch the surface and provide humble, visual shadows of the proper nature of the prairie. To gain the most inclusive measure of what it has to offer requires exploring it up close --- the deeper the better --- for when you do, the prairie not only invites you to listen to its story, you actually begin to hear what it has to say.

I have photographed the Tallgrass Prairie off and on for a good number of years and have yet to capture that one single photograph that speaks of the essence of what it really means. Nor have I been able to put into words the full extent of the feelings and emotions I experience while standing within its embrace. What I have stored instead are countless lifetime memories --- the other values --- that only reside deep within my personal convictions and even though down deep I understand what they mean, extracting from those thoughts the best combination of words to express them verbally has proven difficult. Even so, the only ones that truly matter are the ones stored most deeply inside for they are the ones that define most clearly why I love this place so much.

The tallgrass prairie has a rich and almost tragic history. Once covering over 400,000 square miles ranging from southern Canada through the heartland of America all the way to the gulf coast, very little of it remains --- almost destroyed by the most dramatic transformation of a natural landscape in human history. Of the three major prairie regions across the central United States (Shortgrass, Mixed Grass, Tallgrass) The tallgrass prairie was by far impacted the most. It's own diversity and rich soil became its downfall as it was transformed into farmland that feeds America and a good part of the world. At one time somewhere around 60 million American Bison roamed across its landscapes and most of them were slaughtered in a misguided desire to corral the Plains Indians and for profit. Only a few dozen survived and from that small remnant, today there are about 600,000 that are kept in preserves, national parks, and private ranches. The Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Oklahoma is home to around 3000 or so and they roam free and wild across its almost 40,000 acres of original tallgrass prairie landscape.

That preserve is the largest protected area of original tallgrass prairie that still survives and is one of two locations where you can experience seeing unbroken horizon to horizon tallgrass prairie. The other is in the Konza prairie preserve in southeastern Kansas. Although somewhat smaller, it provides a unique and impressive preserve. Other locations fall within the ownership of private ranches and knowing for sure how much remains is difficult to determine, but what is known is that around 95% of the original Tallgrass region was lost between 1840 and 1890 --- in some places over 99% has been lost.

In more recent times, efforts to restore lost areas have been initiated, but these represent but a fraction of what once was. What once was --- Think of the State of Iowa as a 1000 piece puzzle. Iowa at one time was almost all Tallgrass Prairie, about 60,000 square miles, and that 1000 piece puzzle represents what the prairie once was. Today, only one piece of that puzzle remains --- and it is not connected but broken into smaller pieces. That is the extent of the loss of this once amazing ecosystem.

I have been asked several times why I keep returning to this landscape as I have taken thousands of photographs there already. It is a difficult question to provide an answer to someone who does not fully grasp the totality of what happened to the Tallgrass region. There is more to it than photographs, more to it than scanning the landscape from scenic overlooks, and more to it  than simple words can explain.

 It has to do with a connection to history, but a deeper connection than just word knowledge, but a connection that permeates well inside your personal vision of what that history represents. Never would I denigrate farming of the prairie or the people who make their living from the land. They have provided resources that have helped to make this country what it is today. However, understanding what once was and what is now leaves an empty space within my desire to experience what the prairie used to be. 

I have spent the better part of an afternoon sitting atop a high rocky knoll and watched hundreds of bison meander across the preserve from a distance. From there in every direction all I could see was tallgrass prairie, a landscape filled with prairie blooms and grasses swaying in the wind. No man made objects were in sight, nor sounds save for the occasional high flying airplane. There prevailed a calmness of spirit across the land and at times I could imagine seeing a hunting party of Plains Indians sitting on their painted ponies atop an adjoining hill as they watched the herd of bison (tatanka in Lakota, iinniiwa in Blackfoot...among others) meander across the landscape. It is an image rendered only within the imagination now, but one that sums up the loss of this amazing place.

Over the years as a photographer I have captured a good many images of various locations that inspire strong memories from within myself. I can recall within a moment the memories made when I captured them --- some stronger than others, most locked and stored down deep inside. Almost like when an aroma or a sound can rekindle a specific emotion, a single photograph will often reveal again the events surrounding its capture. Some humorous, some dramatic, many chance happenings, only a few truly remarkable, but most are forever embraced by fond memories --- memories locked inside for a lifetime.

Other values are the driving force behind why I keep returning to this place. It has been a few years now since I was last there. I suppose it is time to once again make time to return --- maybe soon if I can, yet even if I am unable to do so the connection to the memories generated by those other values serve me well and as a result I can return there as often as I prefer...from within the heart.

The Outdoor Photographers All Purpose 'Atta Boy...' Vehicle

 The rough Southeastern Oklahoma back road, filled with washed out gulley's and deep drop offs on either side, forced me to shift into 4-wheel drive. Loose gravel and dirt, kicked up by the tires, clattered against the underside of the wheel wells. Except for the action of the wipers my forward vision was almost obscured by muddy spray coming off the damp road that covered the side windows and back flap with a dingy brown film. I drove over a shallow rise and in front of me appeared a wide gravel and rocky bottom creek demonstrating a good flow from the extra early rain. I stopped and surveyed the conditions. The road clearly traversed the creek as it continued on the other side about thirty maybe forty yards away. It did not look too deep, but I had no way of knowing exactly how deep it was. I needed to cross so I shifted the 4x4 lever into 4-wheel low and placed the gear lever into second gear and started across. The ride across tested my skill as a 4x4 driver and I could feel the wheels crawling over and slipping across loose rocks as the water level climbed ever closer the lower reaches of the door. It took a moment or two of steady driving, but I crawled out of the creek onto the road on the other side and continued on. As I shifted again into 4-wheel high, I patted the dash of my Jeep and said,  "Atta boy..."

I have often said, "....a guy should never have a love affair with a vehicle...it's just gonna cost ya a lot of money." I must admit, I have rarely followed my own advice especially when it comes to my venerable 1997 Jeep Wrangler. I'll most likely never get rid of it and yes, it has cost me a few dollars from time to time to keep it running. Those dollars have been well spent though, as the old Wrangler has carried me now to over 310,000 miles and it seems to just keep on going. 

By now of course it has developed a character and personality of its own. Up close one can see the effects of over 25 years of tough driving. A few dings here and there, clear coat worn off the hood, some rusty spots repaired with a mixture of Bondo and spray paint, and if you crawl underneath, you will see welded patches applied to the frame to cover and correct some defects caused by corrosion. I replaced the transmission around 250,000 miles, the engine around 270,000 miles, and the rear differential around 280,000 miles. Last year I replaced the factory installed shocks which had almost 300,000 miles on them. I replaced the top long before any of those upgrades. Yeah, the old Wrangler is running better than ever. 

As an outdoor photographer and someone who pursues outdoor adventures in the process of taking photos, I need a vehicle I can depend on when the going gets a bit rough. I also need a vehicle I don't have to worry about getting dirty and this old Jeep is perfect for such things. Long ago I attached an overhead rack made by Olympic so I could easily carry my canoe. I also use it to carry other things a well. That addition has proven its worth countless times. Although the Jeep comes with a backseat, I sort of semi-permanently removed it a few years ago as I needed the cargo space more than passenger space.

The origin of the Jeep name carries some conjecture. One story says when Willy's first manufactured the Jeep for the Military it was designated a General Purpose vehicle. General Purpose eventually was shortened to GP which in time evolved into Jeep. The other story, and the one I tend to agree with, is that the Jeep was named after an old Popeye cartoon character of the era named Jeep. Jeep was this annoying little guy who could go anywhere, walk on the ceiling, pass through walls, float in the air, walk on water...he could go through and do just about anything. Well, the old Willy's vehicle proved itself capable of going just about anywhere so the name Jeep was adopted as it fit its capabilities. Regardless, it is a classic vehicle with a long and glorious heritage.

I can honestly say I have never been stuck while driving my Jeep, with one exception. And even then I was able using the Jeep's capabilities, to extricate myself. It was soon after I first purchased it I convinced Kris and the boys, who were pretty young then, to go with me up to a placed known as 'Little Sahara'. It's a unique place located out in Northwestern Oklahoma characterised by large sand dunes and is open to 4-wheel drive and ATV type vehicles for recreational use. 

Little Sahara (Internet Photo)

I wanted to give my then new-to-me 4-wheel drive vehicle a try. At first, the old Jeep sailed across the dunes with no problems and we were having a great time...until I decided to drive down into a low area where a few scrubby bush-like trees were growing. I figured I could climb out of there with no problem. Well, there was a problem. On the rise coming out, all four wheels dug in and I sunk pretty deep into loose sand and we could not go forward. I was able to back up and made several runs at climbing out to no avail. Kris was not happy and the boys just thought it was all in good fun. I was hoping I would not have suffer the indignity of asking another vehicle to winch me out. I backed up as far as I could go, told the boys to hang on because no matter what we were not stopping, and gunned it. With the engine whining, the tires dug into the sand and we started up the incline slowing down but still moving forward and just when it looked like we would not make it, the front tires grabbed more solid ground and out we came. 

Yeah, I have explored many a good day because that old Jeep provided the means to get there. The 4x4 feature certainly has payed off numerous times. Through snow, icy roads, heavy rain, crossing creeks, down rutted out backroads, and just driving on down the road, the old Jeep has carried me well over a quarter million miles in life. It has proven itself a great outdoor adventure / photography vehicle and I would never have been able to experience many of the adventures without it or would I have been able to capture many of the photographs I now have. Each of those photographs offers a back story unto themselves. Stories that reflect the confidence I had in a mechanical vehicle. From the time I first laid eyes on it, almost like a vision, somewhere in the back of my mind I envisioned driving that Jeep into the wilds and having the means to  get back without worrying if it might breakdown. Along the way, I captured a few fair to good photographs, but gained a lifetime of memories.

Sometimes though, my adventurous nature does not always match my wifes more homey nature, and to quote her infamous words from that day I almost got us stuck in the sand at Little Sahara, "Don't you ever do that again!" she yelled. Well, me and the boy's just grinned as I patted the dash and said "...Atta boy..."

Capturing the Broader Story...

First impressions are always the most important and influential and the first time I set foot upon the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Northern Oklahoma the moment so impressed me, it became a lifelong quest to return with camera in hand to capture this amazing landscape. It has been almost 30 years now since then and I have returned there many times and although it has been several years since my last visit, I still relish each and every photograph I've taken of that landscape. I have realized in more recent years there is no single photograph that can tell the story of the Tallgrass Prairie. It must be done by capturing the broader story via a series of images. The trick is to find the right number of images that collectively tell its story without overdoing it.

Time seems to roll back on the prairie. It is almost as though you have stepped through a time portal and into another era from long ago. A calmness prevails across the landscape and the Oklahoma prairie wind sweeps across the land and the tallgrasses dance in time with it almost guided by an invisible hand moving individual stems to act as one. There is a bigness to the landscape and indeed there are places on the preserve where you spin around 360 degrees and see nothing but horizon to horizon tallgrass prairie, one of the few places left where you can still do so. 

As a photographer, capturing a series of images that reflect the true dynamics of the prairie is a daunting challenge because there is so much diversity, how does one do such a thing. I've discovered that simply blitzing the location with thousands of photographs doesn't work. Nor does simply driving through it and stopping at scenic overlooks work. More thought and effort must be put into it. The prairie is something you must experience up close and the best way to do so is to walk into it. Even just a few yards will give you a fresher point of view, but to truly experience the prairie you must be prepared to hike a ways in. (As always, certain precautions should be adhered to; wear long pants tucked into your socks, liberal bug spray, good hiking boots as the terrain is rough, and always venture well clear of the several thousand American Bison or buffalo that roam across the landscape.)

One of my favorite locations within the preserve is a rocky arroyo located about a mile from the gravel road that cuts through the landscape. It is a tough hike in and tougher hike out as going in is sort of down hill, while coming out is mostly up hill. To capture the broader story of the prairie this location is a must place to experience. 

One of my favorite images, a prairie sunrise, was taken from a high point overlooking this arroyo. It truly captures  the majesty and grandeur of first light upon the landscape.

I'll never forget that morning. There was a coolness to air that early, even though it was early-summer, and the grass was filled with dew which soaked my pants legs and boots as I hiked in before sunrise. A slight breeze was rising out of the arroyo and prairie birds were beginning their morning songs.

 The prairie carries with it an aroma unlike any other place I've ever been. It is a fresh scent almost like a cross between new cut hay and damp earth. The morning sounds are carried on the wind and fill your senses with a stereoscopic surround sound. I simply waited that morning for the prairie sunrise to perform its epic routine and captured what I feel is a epic image from this unforgettable moment.

Capturing the broader story of the prairie involves more that a series of images, it must also include the emotion imparted from being there. I've had a longing to return again...maybe soon I hope. Even so I have enough memories and images from previous encounters to fill a lifetime. 

The Tallgrass Prairie's story is one of a magnificent landscape almost lost where 95% of it has been plowed under and paved over. Only a few remnants remain, and this preserve is one of the best and most rewarding. I truly love this place...and after 30 years...I've only just begun to capture its true identity.

Interpreting the Moment...Photographically

 Sometimes nature simply does not cooperate. All the planning and anticipation that goes into a photoshoot, at times, simply becomes obsolete when nature fails to live up to our expectations. Moments like these will challenge even the best photographer, yet moments such as these are what often presents a new and challenging interpretation opportunity of what nature does offer to the photographer.

One one such encounter nature threw a wild curveball at me. I was wanting to photograph one of those legendary prairie sunrises on the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve located just north of the small town of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. This preserve is by far my favorite place to photograph as it offers such a wide variety of opportunities plus it stands as one of the last remaining large tracts ( almost 40,000 acres) of original tallgrass prairie still in existence. Unfortunately, my time was limited and the weather turned stormy the night before which carried well into the morning. I made the drive anyway hoping the clouds just might part enough at sunrise to offer a chance at a photograph.

Well, they didn't. The morning sky was a solid gray wall with barely a sign of texture. The rain had subsided some, but it was still spitting light sprinkles and everything was wet. To make matters worse, that Oklahoma Prairie wind was whipping across the plains. The location I had picked out ahead of time turned out to be rather bland. I sat up my tripod anyway and waited for the appointed sunrise time that came and went with nary a hint of it happening. That wind just kept on blowing the prairie grass back and forth. In front of me a single tall Wild White Indigo plant leaned over heavily in the wind. Several minutes after official sunrise, I noticed a warm glow burning through the thick overcast. It was faint but continued to slowly grow in intensity.

As minimal as it was, this was my opportunity and I had to quickly reinterpret the situation. I moved the tripod over hoping to align the Indigo plant with the growing bullseye glow just above the horizon. The wind kept the plant leaning too far over for a photo. I held my breath...and waited. The glow began to subside and a few seconds before it disappeared, the wind died and the Indigo plant popped back upright and I fired off a couple of quick shots. The image shown above was the result. To this day, it remains one of my favorite Tallgrass Prairie images.

Interpreting the moment is what a nature photographer must know how to instinctively do. Conditions change so rapidly, you must evaluate the opportunity quickly and make a decision. It takes an eye for detail and for compositional elements. 

On most occasions, snap decisions are not required, but, interpreting the moment still applies. Interpretation is the operative word. Simple duplication of what you see does not work very well most times. It requires a solid grasp of how your camera responds to any given source of light and how to change the settings to obtain the desired effect. Your interpretation of the moment does not always have to be a xerox copy image of what you see., but it does offer the ability to visualize the possible outcome based on the light. Light then, is the key. Finding it, seeing it, locking onto it, and using it to interpret the mood you are wanting to capture is what separates ordinary picture takers from someone who captures moments that stir the imagination.

If you are photographing something simply because it looks nice or is pretty, then chances are your photo will fall short and only show the surface of the moment. But by observing more deeply into the light you can capture the total depth and vibrancy of what the light reveals and consequently whatever it is you are photographing.

It takes a willingness to endure the difficult requirements to find such moments. Things like rising well before sunrise, or braving cold and raining or snowy weather. Sometimes you have to develop a sixth sense and simply know when the conditions are prone to be good, and sometimes you must anticipate the possibilities and return again and again and again before the moment presents itself. The last photo is one such moment. To capture it required three months of effort and at least four return trips, three of which failed, before the interpretation of the moment for this location finally made itself evident.

Interpreting the Moment; it is an aspect of photography that requires time to develop, yet one that is indispensable to move beyond simple duplication of what you see and creating images that stir the soul. 

Fighting Kentucky Bucks: A Chance Encounter

 I love photographing the deer who frequent the fields and woodlands behind where I live. Kentucky is home to a healthy and diverse selection of Whitetail Deer and there is a local herd that has provided many fun photographic opportunities. A late evening chance encounter on a chilly, January day offered a wonderful photo op. Two nice bucks were but two of several deer feeding in the fields and they provided a natural show where their instinctive desire to dominate other bucks played out in front of my camera.

As they tend to do, late on this January day about a dozen or so deer meandered into the cornstubble fields behind my house. I had setup in a slightly different location from my normal spot in an attempt to gain better viewing of three fields. I kept my setup simple wearing camo clothing along with a leafy camo top covering. I also simply covered my camera and tripod with a small piece of camo burlap just to break up its pattern and to provide a small area for me to sit behind to also help mask any movements the deer might detect. It was simple and effective.

I sat under a large cedar tree situated on a corner of a wooded area which provided a dark background that helped to conceal and break up my silhouette. I had managed to capture quite a few images and some video footage and was about to lose most of the light. It was overcast and dark anyway, and as the day progressed toward sundown, the light rapidly faded. As the deer in front of me meandered away I thought it a good time to pack up and leave so as not to disturb them. 

As I gathered my gear, I noticed across the field to the northwest, several deer feeding. I zoomed in to take a look and found at least four bucks, two of which supporting pretty decent antlers. A third one looked odd and at closer inspection I discovered one of his antlers had broken off so he only had antlers on one side. That was unfortunate because the one he did have looked to be the largest of the three bucks. He eventually wandered off but the two others remained and to my surprise they began to spar with each other.

By this time the daylight grew darker every minute and they were a good 300 yards away. Even so, I could not pass up this opportunity and repositioned my tripod and zoomed in as far as my 500mm lens would take me.  It provided just enough reach and allowed for the capture of several minutes worth of those two going at it with each other.

Eventually, the light simply grew to low and I had to let them go, but being able to witness these two spar the way they did was a wonderful chance encounter. Sometimes events just happen and we find ourselves in the right place at the right time. Never had I witnessed in the wild two bucks sparring like that before. It was clear they were simply sparring and not aggressively fighting, but enough mild aggression from both gave the encounter a sense rawness in nature. 

Photographing deer in their natural environment partaking of their natural behavior unaware of you the photographers presence is always a challenge. Their senses are so defined they will detect the slightest of movements or lock onto the softest of unnatural sounds. The chatter of my camera's shutter release, although not particularly loud, but rather soft in nature, is still different enough from the natural sounds they hear all the time. They will pick up and lock onto the direction of the sound with ease. Often they will study with their keen eyes where that sound is coming from. Even though I always wear camouflaged clothing and a face mask, plus hide either behind a makeshift or natural blind, it seems they always locate me. 

To get close enough to capture compelling images is always a challenge even with a large telephoto lens. Deer possess that uncanny ability to know their surroundings and when anything is out of sync, they will investigate and then run off. It is why they have survived for as long as they have. I am truly fortunate to have a location I can easily access and photograph these amazing animals. So far, they seem to always have the last word in our interactions...but, that's perfectly okay with me. They challenge me and I keep learning...I still have much to learn about their behavior.

When the Weather is Bad...It's Really, Really Good

 The deep freeze that settled over Kentucky left its winter signature over the landscape with snow and sub freezing temperatures that extended for the better part of a week. All the ponds froze and even the larger lakes became encrusted with a layer of ice. By the beginning of the second week, warmer temperatures infiltrated along with a steady supply of rain that swamped the landscape for another week. Two weeks of bad weather and I loved it because, as a photographer, when the weather is bad, it is really, really good for capturing moody and dramatic light.

A break in the weather came toward the end of the icy week with broken clouds and blue sky peaking through. The daytime temps still hovered in the upper teens but I could not pass up the opportunity to return to one of my best rustic locations where the combination of snow, fence row, background trees, clouds, and sky offered one of those rare moments in Kentucky when all the ingredients fall into place for a winter wonderland scenic landscape. 

My fingers turned into icicles as I stood in the open with exposed finger tips. So numb they became, I could not feel the shutter release button and struggled to fired off the shots. Even so, I did manage to capture a few images, and my fingers quickly thawed once I returned to the confines of my Jeep.

I did manage to get out a few more times and photographed the local deer herd in the snow along with other landscape scenes. Always exciting to photograph deer in the fields. Add a layer of snow and cold air, the experience becomes almost surreal. Overcast skies and soft blue light gave the scene an historical measure as though being transported back in time to another era. Being warmly dressed, I braved the cold yet still felt its sting. All of it, every icy snowflake hitting my face, every numb finger, every chill infiltrating through the layers of clothing, was worth every moment.

Eventually, warmer weather settled in and the snow began to melt, but the ice covered ponds and lakes retained their icy mantle for several more days. This along with the rain and warmer temps created an amazing opportunity on Barren River Lake when fog drifted like a soft blanket across the still mushy frozen ice. I managed to spend most of a full day out there searching for and photographing this amazing combination of conditions.

With the rain and fog, it became so hazy, my camera found it difficult to find enough contrast to focus properly. I really had to struggle with it, but managed to make it all come together.

The fog was simply incredible in that it seemed to lay down close to the waters surface and slowly drift with the air currents which lifted the veil up and over the rugged shoreline and into the trees where it hovered like a ghostly apparition. It rained off and on, hard at times, but steady and eventually all that rain soaked through my rain gear and I became somewhat soggy. I loved it.

I made it over to the tailwaters area below the dam. There I discovered a good number of gulls flying around looking for something to eat as the small fish were washed through the turbines. I practiced following flying birds with my camera and big lens. Never been very good at such things, but did manage to catch a few shots of these amazingly graceful flyers. When spring comes, they will migrate back to their breeding grounds and will return again the next winter.

I must admit, it was fun to watch them zip and dart, then plunge into the water. If one happened to catch something, all the other gulls tried to steal it from him.

There were also Blue Herons standing in the tailwaters. Normally quite skittish, they seemed rather tame as I was able to easily approach them and capture a few images of their graceful stance.

The day became one of those iconic days, the kind of day that builds on the reservoir of memories collected from times past. I'll not long forget how the morning fog embraced the lakeshore and how the rain blended with the fog to create a soft misty atmosphere. Cold fingers, soggy clothing from leaky rain gear, constantly drying wet camera gear...yeah, when the weather turns bad, more often than not, it is good for the photographer. 

I suppose it is simply a matter of perspective, but one where you must be willing to charge into the moment and expect the best outcome regardless of the conditions. The roughly two weeks of marginal weather provided some wonderful opportunities to explore the best of nature at her...worst.