The TGP - Part II - The Prairie's Song

A soft voice seemed to rise from the fragrant prairie carried across the sea of grass that pitched and danced on the Oklahoma wind...a voice that cast its song for all to hear, "Listen...as I speak of times past..." it whispered..."Come..and see...share my story..."

 I stood atop a grassy knoll a few hundred yards from the gravel road that undulates through the preserve. It was late May 1996, and the oppressive Oklahoma summer heat had not yet arrived.  Even so, it was warm enough. In all directions from that vantage point all I could see were fields of grass ranging across the southern edge of the Flint Hills Region...only a scattering of trees...not a man made object. A few hundred bison were meandering across the flanks of an adjacent hill a few hundred yards away...their guttural bellows keeping time with the prairie's song.

For a moment it was as though time had rolled in reverse and I had been transported to another place in another world...a time before even my ancestors first moved to Indian Territory..a time when bison roamed free and wild by the millions and the tallgrass prairie stretched unbroken from Canada to the Texas Gulf Coast.

Below me, acres of pale purple coneflowers sprouted out of the earth adding their color and fragrance to the warm earth-scented aroma that presented its greeting to travelers crossing its boundaries.  To the north a field of blackeyed susans exploded in a menagerie of yellow that contrasted with the prevalent green shades.  Powder like summer clouds drifted overhead in a cobalt blue sky casting shadows that created a broken atmosphere that helped cool the landscape. Prairie insects swarmed here and about...landing on long stems of tall grasses that swayed in the breeze...then off again to another. Birds...the dickcissel, a scissortail, meadow larks, a buzzard or two...added their movement and flight to the choreography of the prairie song.

For a stretched moment I rested on the edge time atop that grassy knoll and allowed the prairie song to fill my over-stressed senses with its soothing flavor. The stiff breeze seemed to gather around me and lift off my shoulders a heaviness that pressed against my life. I felt at home. I felt at peace.

My first encounter with the tallgrass prairie preserve was by far the one that carried the most impact. Growing up in Oklahoma, my appreciation of the prairie was tempered by an attitude that it was simply a big field full of weeds. No longer would that attitude prevail. Never again would my sight be blinded by inexcusable ignorance about the significance of what the prairie has to offer.

As I sat on that isolated knoll and watched as one of those legendary prairie sunsets developed, I knew that I surely must return again...someday...to capture photographically the emotions and feelings this single day of discovery afforded. Even though I did return several times after that, my first true photographic attempt was to wait the better part of a decade before it materialized, but since then, I've made numerous trips to and hiked deep across this landscape searching for those elusive moment that define what I discovered and experienced on that first day.

I have hiked across parts of the Rocky Mountains, a small portion of the Appalachian Trail, forded freezing trout streams, walked along ancient and rustic beaches, explored the rolling hills of the Ozarks, and canoed rivers still wild and free. I have photographed the amazing skies of Kentucky and fell witness to parts of creation only observed up close. To those endeavors, they all pale in comparison to the revelation discovered while sitting atop that grassy knoll in the heart of Oklahoma's tallgrass prairie. I suppose the reason why is because it was so unexpected. I was caught off guard by the power of the prairie song...a song that still calls to me each day.  It is a song that speaks of times past and the discouraging loss of a once magnificent landscape. It is a song that to all that hear it, not all...listen.

Keith

On ConeFlower Hill...Part 1

Everything changed that first day close to 20 years ago now...my view of nature...my sense of place...my understanding of what beauty was...my desire to not just visit, but to experience and capture photographically, up close one of the most amazing landscapes I've ever seen. I've written about that experience to some degree on this blog, and shared numerous images and a few video programs about the location, yet, as I think back on all that, I realize those few words only touched the surface of the emotions I discovered during that time. My desire now is to write a more in depth series of stories about those experiences and share with anyone who cares to read why that day...and the many more that followed...carried such a significant impact for me. It became a calling...a must do moment...to capture the full spectrum of how the tallgrass prairie saga changed not just my personal understanding of that sea of grass, but my understanding of why those kinds of moments are important to my life as an individual, a photographer, and my identity.  Join me from the view "On ConeFlower Hill"...a series about Oklahoma's Tallgrass Prairie.  

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Original range of the Tallgrass Prairie

Part 1

One can only imagine...today...what it must have been like during those first migrations west in the early 1800's. Millions upon millions of bison ranging across the plains, sometimes taking days to pass...an ocean of grass that appeared to roll toward a never ending tomorrow with a diversity of life surpassed but rarely upon this planet. That sea of grass was looked upon as a barrier...a formidable obstacle that barred progress forward. It changed its complexion the further west one traveled. First encounters were against a massive area of Tallgrass that stood higher than a man and spread its wings across the heart and breath of America...a bit further west as the climate changed, that tall grass area merged through a blending of Mixed Grass regions  with the Short Grass prairie's that butted against the base of the Rocky Mountains.

It was the tallgrass area that caught the eye of farmers.  It's rich soil and consistent rains offered a tremendous bounty for anyone tough enough to dig it up and plant a crop. Beginning in 1840, as America started it's westward expansion, that limitless area of tallgrass prairie proved too tempting and as the population expanded, more agriculture was required to feed it. By 1890, in less than a single life span, almost all of it was gone having been plowed up, fenced off, replanted, and converted into fields of corn and wheat.

The plains Indian populations were all but subdued, the millions of free ranging bison had been reduced to a mere few dozen isolated survivors, and the diversity of the tallgrass prairie was destroyed.

The tallgrass prairie required three ingredients to survive: 1. A Climate with hot summers, cold winters, and adequate rainfall;  2. Bison herds that trampled and disturbed the soil that provided aeration and their tons of natural fertilizer that help to enrich the soil; 3. Fire which at times would burn for days and clear off wide areas of range land where new growth would sprout; Fire also prevented the encroachment of wooded plants.

As our westward expansion moved into this area, the bison were killed off and fire was suppressed.  As a result, the tallgrass prairie began to die.  Coupled with converting large areas into agricultural use, what once was perhaps the largest single ecosystem in North America was driven almost into extinction. What once covered over 400,000 square miles...between 140 and 240 million acres...was now just a collection of scattered remnant patches.

To help you understand this...imagine the state of Iowa which covers almost 26 million acres...almost all of it originally covered in tallgrass prairie. If that area of tallgrass were shown as a 1000 piece puzzle...today, only one piece would still exist, and not as a single unit, but broken into multiple, unconnected, smaller pieces...that is the extent of the destruction of the tallgrass prairie.  This kind of loss is characteristic of what happened across the entire range of this once amazing landscape.

By the early 1900's conservationist began to shout their alarm over this destruction...it was almost too late...but because of their efforts restoration projects began to rebuild at least part of what once was. A few areas of original tallgrass remained having been protected primarily because it was either too rocky or rough to plow, or they were privately owned. Although there are several remnant preserves scattered across the original tallgrass region, the only location where horizon to horizon vista's of this kind of landscape can be found is in the Flint Hill's region of southeastern Kansas and northern Oklahoma.  The largest protected area of original tallgrass prairie that exists today is the 38,000 acre Tallgrass Prairie Preserve near Pawhuska, Oklahoma.

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What's Around the Bend

A photograph is a visual story. It has a theme, a plot, dialog, a beginning, a middle, and an end. Sometimes the story is obvious, some times not so obvious, and sometimes the photo is constructed in such a way as to allow the viewer the ability to make their own story. Photo's that use that technique are often some of the most engaging because they pull not only the viewers visual gaze into it, but their emotional desire to find the story. One way to build that kind of photograph is to use the theme...'What's Around the Bend'.

What's around the bend ideas in an image most often use some kind of visual trail that leads the eye into the center of the image and that trail will usually disappear somewhere in the distance. Roads, creeks, trails, tree lines, fence rows are some of the more common elements used as that visual trail. It's important that the trail lead into the image and not out of it...although sometimes leading out of the image can work, it usually works better the other way. Other ways include using such things as the neat rows of a plowed field, or clouds, or even shadows and rolling or receding hills.

I find myself looking for those kinds story lines in photographs quite often and when I discover an opportunity that looks right, I then try to flesh out the story by adding other nuances. Sometimes that requires waiting for the light to change or the conditions or even the season's to change. It's the nuances that add flavor, character, and substance to the story. Without those, well very few around the bend story lines could stand on their own merits.

Here's some examples.  I love windmills...I guess growing up in Oklahoma is what developed that sense of story so whenever I see a windmill, I always take a second and third look to see if there is a story there. This image is a location just a few miles down the road from where I live and I drive by it almost everyday, and almost everyday I take time to see what flavor the story is taking on.

On the morning this photo was taken, there was a light fog that drifted across the farms and fields in the area. I walked a short distance down the old road and lined up this shot being careful to include enough of the road and fence row to lead the eye into the story. You can see the windmill on the right side...kind of hard to see it in such a small version of the image.

One winter's day I came across this next location while out looking for Sandhill Cranes.  The road was slick and there was a good layer of snow covering the landscape. The road curved around and dropped out of sight over the hill and to me at the time it looked like one of those Currier and Ives scenes. I loved the way the road seemed to beacon the viewers eye to follow it around the bend to see what was on the other side and how the fence row carried the view to the turn in the bend just on the edge of the image..

The next image is a favorite of mine as it sings a back road melody like few images do.  It carries in its design that sense of country, that feeling of home is just around the bend, that emotional bond to a familiar place. It says to me, 'welcome home...I've been waiting for you'. It may be one of the best examples of the what's around bend theme I've ever taken.

What's around the bend...it's a great theme for a photographic story line. Take time to look for those opportunities...but not just simply curved roads or fence rows...think about how to flesh out that story...what would your location look like in a different season...on a rainy day...foggy day...early or late light...with shadows. That's how you take the basic theme and turn it into a great story.

Keith