Roosevelt Elk are the largest of the remaining four subspecies of elk in North America. I photographed these elk in northern California, just south of Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. They travel in a herd of about 30-40, and can usually be seen grazing or lazing about on either side of highway 101 in the mornings and evenings. I have seen them about 50% of the times I pass through that area, and it is always worth a quick stop to photograph them.
The herd is mostly made up of females and calves, but there are a few young bulls sprinkled here and there. This male kept pretty far away from the dirt road from which I was photographing, but occasionally he emerged from the brush to give me some clear views.
As with any wild animal, photographing them takes special care and etiquette. Especially with large mammals, keeping your distance and being extremely vigilant around them is of utmost importance, both for your safety and theirs. Using a long lens is a necessity in order to stay far enough away so that they don’t get agitated. I’ve seen too many tourists approaching with small point and shoot cameras, trying to get close enough to get a reasonable shot. In these cases, it is much better to just admire them from a distance, and if you must have a photo, go buy a postcard from a local merchant!
In a world of ever encroaching human presence, it is a joy to see a large herd like this living fairly undisturbed. Next time you are planning a road trip, do some research before hand and look for any wildlife viewing areas along your route. You never know when you might be treated to a personal experience with large wild animals.
Two weeks ago I was challenged by friend and photographer Jerry Dodrill to post 5 black and white photographs on social media over 5 consecutive days. As I am not known for shooting much black and white, I dug back into my archives to see what I had. From that selection, I chose five photos from a variety of subject matter (landscape, wildlife, and architecture) that spoke to me more as fine art than editorial photos. Here is my selection collected together, along with a short synopsis of each.
I shot this last year on my attempt at the John Muir Trail. Thousand Island Lake is a beautiful location in the heart of the Ansel Adams Wilderness. This was a dark, moody, stormy morning, and during a brief pause in the torrential downpour, I braved the elements and scrambled out of my tent to capture Banner Peak with the lake below. In order to convey my feelings at the time I shot it, it seemed like a perfect candidate for a B&W conversion.
This shot is of the Mesquite Dunes outside of Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park. I shot this fairly wide (21mm) as I was standing on the foreground dune. Those who have photographed a lot of sand know that you can’t just back up to reshoot – you’ll end up with a photo full of footprints! Black and white allowed me to add contrast into the sand ripples along the crest of the dune.
With this photo, I’m switching focus to birds (hey, birds can make great B&W too!) I was shooting a group of American White Pelicans and was waiting for that perfect, synergistic moment. Finally they all ducked down for fish at the same time (the white pelicans tend to be much lazier when eating as compared to the California Browns who are constantly dive bombing their food). I caught the moment and new it would make a nice pano crop – a conversion to a high-key black and white was icing on the cake.
This image is a little different from my usual fare. Quite a few years ago, a friend and I were hiking through the woods of Great Smokey Mountain National Park. It was a still, crisp November day, and we were utterly alone with the trees. Throughout the day, we had been getting a very creepy vibe. Unlike the wilderness of the west, these forests are littered with remnants of past civilizations – small mountain villages linked to other settlements only via walking paths. It almost felt like the ghosts of the past were watching our progress through their woods. Suddenly our trail opened up into a clearing with an old church, complete with cemetery and 100+ year old headstones. When I took this photograph, I knew I wanted to try to convey that feeling that we’d been getting all day. A black and white, high contrast conversion was in order.
My final shot is another B&W dune photo from Death Valley. This time I kept the contrast and the clarity low, to emphasize the soft buttery texture of twilight. What first attracted me to this spot was the three tall dunes in the background. I think they reminded me of pyramids off in the distance. I set about looking for a foreground. When I found layer upon layer of sand “waves” stacked up in front of the dunes, I knew I had my shot. I fell in love with the way the light moved across the sand like it was a living thing. In order to remove all other distractions from the photo, I subtracted all color and let the interplay between the shadows and highlights define the photograph.
I recently finished processing a series of photos I took of a flock of evening grosbeaks that invaded a neighborhood in Sunnyvale, CA, a little south of my home. For several days, the birds were repeating a pattern of flying into the area in the morning, and perching on a row of chinese pistache trees, so I decided to head down and see if I could locate the flock.
I arrived in the neighborhood just after dawn when I figured the birds would be busy eating. I began to walk up and down the streets, occasionally stopping to listen for the distinct crunching sound of the birds eating the fruit off of the trees. All the while I was under the watchful eyes of the residents, who probably don’t often see someone walking past their house with an 800mm lens mounted to a large tripod.
Finally, I was on the verge of giving up and decided to make my way back to my car. On my way back, I passed under one of the many chinese pistache trees and heard the soft crunch crunch crunch. Looking up I could just see one or two of the grosbeaks in the upper most branches. Thrilled, I set up my gear on the sunny side of the tree (so that the birds would be front lit), and waited until some of them ventured to lower fruit.
In all I hung out for about 20 minutes before the birds lifted off and flew elsewhere. It is always a treat to get such opportunities to photograph seasonal migrants.
On a recent backpacking trip to Yosemite I managed to see and photograph a female sooty grouse. I had been hearing the booming calls of the male all day long as I made my way up switchbacks out of the valley, climbing ever higher into the high country. Although very vocal, the males are very hard to spot. They create a deep booming call that resonates at a low frequency. This allows the call to travel a great distance, but it is difficult to discern directionality of the sound. In addition, males will fly up into tree branches to broadcast, while most of the life of the female is spent foraging on the forest floor.
Indeed this is where I found the female – scratching for food in a sparse forest next to a creek. This situation called for me to stretch my stalking skills to the maximum, because my longest lens I had with me on my trip was my 70-200 mm, and this was on a full frame camera. I usually photograph birds with an 800mm on a 1.6X cropped sensor, so I was at a severe disadvantage to my usual setup.
Creeping ever closer, I managed not to disturb her too much. My best shots came when she ducked behind a tree and wandered into a small clearing. I managed to sneak up directly behind the tree, and then peak around the side.
Trying for these shots in a dark forest required I gather as much light to the sensor as possible. This meant shooting wide open (f/4 was the best this lens had to offer), using the lens’ image stabilizer (of course!), and shooting at a high ISO.
Although this is not the most colorful bird I have ever photographed, I was excited none the less. It was a life bird for me, and it was thrilling to have such an opportunity when I was not on a trip specifically geared toward bird photography, and I didn’t have my optimum gear with me.