The start of every wildlife photography outing is overshadowed by doubt. Will I see anything today? Will the wildlife come to me? There is a great deal of luck involved in success: while we plan for weather, the angle of the sun and the tides, we don’t control the wildlife. We just pray for it.
The other half of the success equation is preparedness. How often do we go out there? I tell myself that I won’t see anything staying home or sleeping in! How good is your equipment? How well do you use it?
On my last trip to Sanibel Island, Mother Nature gave me a gift. The sought after Roseate Spoonbills were feeding at low tide in the shadows of the mangroves. I was there with my Sony mirrorless camera, a 600mm lens and a tripod. All the pieces came together.
I delight in the pink hues of the Roseate Spoonbill’s plumage. In this photo the splash of pink contrasts the dark shadows of the surrounding mangrove and water.
As freezing temperatures grip the Northeast United States this week, we are reminded that a frozen landscape offers a new kind of beauty. The colorful palette of autumn leaves are nearly gone, and winter’s snow introduces a new aesthetic.
This image is one of 12 featured in Cathy Kelly’s 2022 Wyoming Nature calendar. There is still time to order one for the holidays. Email Cathy for details.
This beautiful mammal is truly one of a kind, as the pronghorn’s 11 closest relatives are extinct. It is the last surviving member of the Antilocapridae family. The Pronghorn’s closest living relative is the giraffe!
You might have seen some pronghorns running at top speed around the national parks of Wyoming, because the species is repopulating, coming back strong from near extinction in the early 1900s, when it had been over-hunted by humans for food. It’s numbers dwindled to about 13,000. Private groups began buying up land to create a refuge for the pronghorn until the 1930s when Presidents Hoover and Roosevelt (FDR) created enough public land for them to live in a protected habitat. The presidents also put hunting restrictions in place. Now the pronghorn is estimated at 500,000 to a million in the American Rockies. (Read full details on Wikipedia.)
Now we could say of our fast-footed friend, that she is one in a million.
My friends who own horses have told me stories about how smart they are. So, perhaps this stately white horse really knows how lucky he is. He spends his days grazing in full view of the Grand Tetons. No human could enjoy real estate like this for under $15 million, in round numbers. A ranch within Grand Teton National Park? What a life.
After the sun set behind the Tetons, we turned our backs to a herd of bison, crossed the road and greeted this horse, backlit by the waning light.
I had never been to Yellowstone National Park before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. We were going to see the thermal zone — geysers including Old Faithful and some boiling mud. I had seen geysers and boiling mud before in New Zealand and Iceland, so I was prepared to be “underwhelmed.” I was wrong. We were in for feelings of excitement and lots of “wow” moments.
Our day began at “West Thumb,” a thermal zone and large lake with boiling mud and geysers. I was captivated. As the geysers steamed and bubbled, I composed my photos of the simple yet other-worldly beauty.
Returning to Grand Teton National Park for the second time in the Fall, I was hoping to return to several of my favorite locations, but NOT take the same photos all over again. What fun would that be?
Mother Nature helped me out. On the night before I went out to Mormon Row to photograph the one of the old barns in the foreground of the majestic Teton mountain range, it snowed on the peaks. Adding to the drama were the clouds.
Would you like to see how different this scene looked in 2018? Here is a link to my photo of a nearby barn on Mormon Row. Which image do you prefer?
I think the most exciting aspect of Wildlife Photography is the chance to observe wild animals in their habitat, doing what they like to do. You can learn a lot from watching their behavior, and in doing that, I feel like a privileged secret observer. While we always keep a respectful distance in order not to distract or interfere with the animal, we whisper to each other, and our excitement is palpable.
Early one morning in Grand Teton National Park, we spotted a bull elk in the field, and his silhouette in the bright morning sun was striking.
At one point, we observed the interaction of the bull, the cow and the calf elk, and then they ran out of our line of sight. While close-up photographs are satisfying and show us exactly what the animal looks like, these experiences are exciting, and the photographs share a story. Autumn is a busy time in Grand Teton National Park for the elk, as well as the moose and bears.
Early on a Monday morning, we visited the banks of the Gros Ventre River in Jackson Hole, often a popular hang out for moose. The sun shone brilliantly on the autumn grass and into our eyes. After a few minutes a bull moose silently emerged from the woods. Backlit by the bright sun, he appeared very dark in the yellow grass.
At a safe distance across the river and on a higher bluff, we watched the moose saunter to the willow bush for a nibble.
I needed a little time off this summer, but now I’m back to work with my camera, and my inspiration is renewed with a trip to Grand Teton National Park.
On our first day in the Park, it rained, and the two places we drove to for breakfast were closed. (Thank you, COVID economy.) But we drove past these horses grazing in a field at the foot of the Tetons and stopped for a photo. Those rain clouds made the scene look like an oil painting.
Today I wondered how to make my nature photography in the tropics relevant to people other regions — where alligators and palm trees don’t exist. Then I remembered the photographs I shot yesterday of the ferns in the Cypress Forest. Ferns are an ancient and diverse plant that spring to life next to decaying wood all over the globe. I grew especially interested and appreciative of ferns while hiking the New Zealand woods.
The South Island of New Zealand was the location where I learned that the growth tip of a fern that takes the shape on an unfurling spiral is a symbol of rebirth, regeneration, and eternity. It’s called the Koru. Thanks to this experience and inspiration in New Zealand, I revere the Koru as well.
Looking for alligators and a wide variety of birds in the Florida wilderness, many nature enthusiasts will pass by the ferns without a pause to admire them. I love to find a great composition that features the Koru — the spiral shaped tip of the fern, showing us for centuries the ability of life to regenerate. A positive symbol during our trying times. I believe that this local photograph can truly attain international relevance and appeal.
As a large print, this photograph will work well in contemporary decor. Consider a metal print for your home. Email me for details at email@example.com.