Photographing Snow

 I just returned from a four day snow, sun and stars photography workshop in Yellowstone Park. Several people, including my husband, asked me why I was taking a workshop in something that I do all the time. In this case there were two main reasons: the location and the subject matter.

It is pretty hard to pass up any opportunity to be in the Park in winter. It is truly a magical time of year. Not only are there far fewer people, the landscape just seems to come alive when it is covered by snow.

I actually did not know the work of the two instructors before the class. But I have to say that Terry Donnelly and Tom Kirkendall are not only amazing photographers, they are two of the most generous teachers I have ever met. They gave of their time and information without any restrictions. They must have both been exhausted by the end of the workshop but I never heard either one of them turn down a request for help or advice from a student.

 I ended up with a couple dozen shots I really love out of the four days. We were incredibly lucky to have clear skies on the day we wanted to shoot Mammoth Hotsprings and snowy conditions much of the rest of the time.

A Helping Hand?

In my role as a photo-journalist, my goal is usually to record the moment while having no affect on it. I sometimes find that hard to do when I am dealing with the natural world and facing a situation where an animal is being hurt. This particular situation is probably well across that murky line and well into interference in places where humans should not be but we will see what happens when spring arrives. 

Here is the situation: Three and one half years ago a pair of young ravens moved into our valley. They tried to build a nest on eagle rock - not the smartest choice. Not only were they constantly being harassed by the local pair of golden eagles, they were also facing directly into the wind and the nest blew down twice before they stopped to re-think their dilemma. Their solution was, surprisingly, to move up to the rock next to our house and build their nest there. They seemed to put up with our coming and going and we were delighted to have a front row view to the unfolding drama of new life. 

Year one they had three hatchlings. Two died within a couple weeks and the third passed away shortly after that. Year two they again hatched three young. Again two died quite early on but the third actually managed to fledge. He entertained us with his antics for two days and then disappeared, not to be seen again. Year three, last summer, three hatchlings popped up and all three seemed determined to make it to fledgling stage. The photo here show mama feeding them at about one month of age. By the time they were around 3 months old, the nest was seeming too small for the trio and one baby fell - or was knocked - out to the ground. He survived the 20' - 30' fall and mama continued to feed him as well as his nest mates until he was killed in a violent wind storm about two weeks after the event. The other two chicks both fledged although one disappeared a couple days after leaving the nest. 

So that brings us to now. Every year we have discussed the fact that the nest seems precarious at best. We have looked at it every which way and decided that it would be a relatively easy feat to add a "guard rail" in the front. Finally, we decided to do it. The first set-back was when we realized that even our tallest extension ladder would not get us anywhere near the nest ledge. I thought that might be the end of the project, but by now Ken was locked. So we climbed up the rock on the other side and set up a rappel down to the nest. I belayed Ken down and then used ropes to lower down a 4' long, 6" round branch from a cedar tree that had blown down. Other ropes were used to lower tools to his location. The operation took much longer than expected and involved a number of unexpected twists and turns. I am sure anyone watching us would have concluded we were both insane for risking our lives on such a project. Especially since we don't know if this will indeed be an improvement for the ravens or if they will come to the conclusion that it is some kind of trap and move away, never to return.  

Only time will tell. Updates to come in the spring.

Moose

It has been a long while since I have posted. I have been torn about whether to get started again or not. Between Facebook and Google+ it seems like I am constantly posting photos so the question of whether or not a blog adds anything is one that is hard to answer. But I admit to missing the writing part. Even if no one but me ever reads the words, there is something cathartic about typing them in. And even if a picture is worth a thousand words, it sometimes tells a slightly different story, especially in the age of photoshop. So I will try to get started again and continue adding images and stories of my adventures in the outdoors of NW Wyoming. I hope you will join me occasionally.

I have not seen a moose in more than a year so it was a thrill to see two of them just off the cross-country ski trail at Pahaska (near Yellowstone's East Entrance) last weekend. The real treat was in realizing that the big male in front is actually a baby. Even though he is almost as big as his mother, there are several telltale signs. For one thing, it would be pretty unusual to see a bull and cow hanging out together like these two were. For another, the antlers on the bull are tiny compared to "normal" and last but not least, an adult bull would have shed his antlers by this time of the winter. Young bull calves often retain their antlers during their first winter.

In just a few short months this fellow will be chased off by his mom and made to fend for himself as she brings another calf into the world.