Tetons in the Fall: Day 3 - Chasing Light
The third day in the Tetons began beneath clear blue skies, with soft morning light and a bull moose on the move.
Not a bad way to start the morning.
We spotted him making a beeline toward the road, seemingly intent on getting somewhere. We had an opportunity to get out and photograph him as he continued on his way, his impressive antlers catching the warm morning sunlight. Eventually, he made his way into an expansive sagebrush field, where we spent much of the morning watching him. Once there, his behavior changed. For over an hour we watched him zigzag back and forth across the field, nose to the ground, occasionally lifting his head to sniff the air. We suspected he'd been following the scent of a female and somehow lost the trail. Which, considering it was the middle of the rut, probably wasn't how he'd envisioned spending his morning.
After more than an hour of searching, he finally called it quits. Honestly, I admired his persistence. An hour of wandering around looking for someone who may or may not be interested is either a level of commitment I can respect or a level of psychosis that should probably raise a few red flags. But ultimately, she's the one who decides whether he's worth her time. Apparently, some things aren't so different in the animal kingdom.
He eventually crossed the road and headed toward a grove of aspens, where we suspected he might settle in for the warmer afternoon hours.
I came away from the morning with several photographs I was really happy with. Then with the temperatures climbing again, we decided it was time for a break.
A Little Midday Downtime
By late morning, the light was terrible, the temperatures were climbing, and the wildlife had apparently decided it had better things to do. Rather than spending the hottest part of the day searching for wildlife that was likely bedded down somewhere in the shade, we headed back toward town. We stopped at the hotel, grabbed our laptops, and made our way to a local coffee shop to spend a few hours editing photographs. Honestly, a coffee shop with good food, and a chance to share some editing time with my new photography friends pretty appealing.
Golden Light
By the time we returned to the park around four o'clock, the clear blue skies of the morning had given way to dark storm clouds, and the wind had begun to pick up. Our first stop was Schwabacher Landing, where we spent a little time photographing the landscape. Despite the gathering clouds, patches of afternoon sunlight were still finding their way through, illuminating portions of the mountains and surrounding valley.
As we continued north, one of the group members noticed that directly behind us the sunlight was spilling through a break in the storm clouds and lighting up the Tetons below. She shouted at Evan to stop the van and I’m so glad she did. As we turned around into the parking lot we were presented with beautiful shafts of golden light streaming down across the Tetons, illuminating the mountains against a backdrop of dark clouds. Below, a field of horses grazed quietly in the pasture, seemingly oblivious to the spectacular scene unfolding above them.
This is one of the reasons I love being out photographing landscapes when storms are moving through. The weather can change so quickly, and with it, the light. One moment the mountains are hidden beneath dark clouds, and the next, a break in the storm sends sunlight spilling across the landscape, creating beautiful dramatic scenes. I don't know how often conditions come together quite like this here, but I do know that these are the moments I hope for when I head out with my camera.
I came away with what may be one of my favorite photographs I've ever taken. And to think, we almost drove right past it.
And the afternoon wasn't finished surprising us.
Chasing Rainbows
As we began pulling out of the parking lot, I noticed a rainbow beginning to form across the road. A rainbow against a stormy landscape would have been exciting enough on its own, but Evan immediately recognized an opportunity to take things a step further. There was a herd of bison a few hundred yards down the road and if we could find the right position, we might be able to photograph them beneath the rainbow. By the time we reached the area, the rainbow we'd originally spotted appeared to be fading. For a moment, I thought we might have missed our chance. But as I stepped back to take in the wider landscape and assess where the sunlight was breaking through the storm, I noticed that the opposite end of the rainbow was getting brighter, and there were hints of a second rainbow beginning to form.
Around the same time, Evan seemed to notice the changing light too. He also spotted an opening in the fence line where public access would allow us to find a better composition, potentially positioning the bison directly beneath the rainbow while we could still remain well away from the herd. Suddenly, I was moving around, trying to find the right angle before the light changed again. I felt like a kid, running around all caught up in the excitement of trying to capture this incredible scene along with others that shared my enthusiam before it disappeared.
We did manage to photograph the bison with the rainbow, although interestingly, one of my favorite images from the encounter is a wider landscape where the rainbow is actually quite faint. The wide view of the expansive grassland, the distant herd, and the shift from torm clouds to clearer skies captures the atmosphere of the afternoon better than a tighter photograph of the rainbow alone.
This was one of my favorite moments of the trip. The ability to share that excitement about an incredible scene unfolding before you with others that understood that a photography opportunity like this special and unique, was one of the main reasons I signed up for a group trip. And while the composition we'd initially set out to capture, its one of the strongest memories I came away with.
A Practice in Fieldcraft
Later that evening, we encountered a group of pronghorn. This presented an opportunity to try a wildlife photography technique I'd read about but hadn't yet put into practice. At Evan's suggestion, we all walked out onto the edge of the field as a group, rather then spread out and as quickly as we could, laid flat on our stomachs. Pronghorn are naturally curious animals, and sometimes presenting a low, nonthreatening profile can pique their curiosity enough that they'll approach to investigate. The idea was to let them make the decision to come closer rather than us trying to close the distance.
The females seemed largely uninterested in us, but the buck apparently had some questions. He turned and started walking directly toward us. Now, I'd read about this technique, and I was excited to see whether it worked. But as he continued closing the distance, I did briefly wonder whether we'd been a little too successful. That moment of concern quickly ended when the buck stopped about 40-50 yards in front of us, pausing briefly before turning perpendicular toward his harem.
From our low position, I was able to capture some portraits I was happy with, but the most valuable part of the experience was seeing how the pronghorn responded. It's definitely something I'd like to experiment with closer to home. The pronghorn around Flaming Gorge tend to be considerably more wary of people, so I suspect I'll need to work from much greater distances. But I'm looking forward to seeing whether this approach might create some new photographic opportunities.
Blue Hour with Beavers
Our final encounter of the day was with a group of beavers. After an afternoon spent chasing changing light and experimenting with new techniques, it was a welcome change of pace. The sun had already disappeared behind the Tetons, and we were settling into the soft, cool light of blue hour. I was sitting along the bank, just a few feet from the nearest beaver, watching as it worked its way through a branch. The water was remarkably still, pooled behind the beavers' activity, and I counted four animals swimming and feeding in the area.
I see beavers fairly regularly along the Green River back home, but usually from the opposite bank, sometimes a hundred yards away. I've watched them swim past with willow branches and grasses in their mouths, presumably hauling a meal back to their den. But I'd never had an opportunity to sit this close and actually watch them feed.
And apparently, beavers aren't particularly concerned with table manners.
We were close enough to hear their teeth working through the branches, the gentle movement of water, and the little grunts and chatter they made as they went about their evening. Their vocalizations reminded me of the grumbly noises my dog makes when he's feeling particularly fussy. I couldn't help but smile. I captured a few photographs of one chewing through what I believe was a willow branch, along with some video of another swimming nearby.
It was a surprisingly intimate encounter with an animal I've spent plenty of time watching, but had never really experienced quite like this. And sitting there in the fading light, listening to them chew and grumble their way through dinner, was a pretty wonderful way to end the day.
