Monthly Archives: July 2013

Orange Prince

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Orange is one of those surprising colors. When you find it in the flower world it is kind of like the middle child of colors. The first-born would, of course, be red. Deep intense blood-red or a flaming scarlet that makes you blink with its intensity. But the pressures off so to speak for orange, it can just be itself with no pretenses and in doing so can be spectacular in a way the other colors envy. It doesn’t have to be red and its way cooler than yellow so all it has to do is be there and be admired for itself alone. Kind of like Harry is today.

Back in the old days, no not just before computers, the really old days like centuries ago, when Kings were important, around say, the 1500’s. They had kings named William the 1th of Orange. Then they had number 2, 3, etc.They also had some princes, which are like Kings in training. You’ve more than likely heard of William The Silent, the Prince of Orange who founded the whole House of Orange thing. That house and it’s dynasty was only famous because it was named after the color, yeah you got it, Orange. Now being a King and generally in charge of everything, from cutting off churchmen’s heads to deciding whether to wear those goofy wigs or not, could pick any color in the entire world to name his house after. He could even make up a color if he wanted to, he was King, and you know, it is good to be the King. But he chose orange. Holy Mackerel, that must have been a big deal back then. I bet all those other royal houses were scrambling to pick a cool color to name their houses after, but they were too late, orange had been taken.

That’s why when you pass an orange flower in the garden you should tip your hat or raise your trowel in tribute to a flower that has its stuff together. Remember, it had its pick of what color it wanted to be and it chose wisely, grasshopper, it picked that special color of Kings, orange.

Antler Dance

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It’s Spring, their antlers are growing and they’re filled to the gills with exuberance over making it through another hard winter in the Rockies. High up in Rocky Mountain National Park, right at the tree line, the young and older bulls gather to rest, eat and grow antlers. There are no predators to worry about and for now the living is easy. Now is the time for them to rejuvenate and get set for September. So with all this free time on their hooves what do young bulls think about? You guessed it, Dancing!

At this point in their development their antlers are soft, covered with velvet and fragile. Normally these young bulls would be testing their mettle by mock fighting and finding every available shrub, bush or tall grass clump to jam their antlers into to remove the velvet that is driving them crazy. Since it is too soon to do that, and as their antlers have to triple in size from where they are now before the velvet comes off, and fighting would damage them so they wouldn’t grow, or if they did grow they would be deformed. So what do they do to burn off this excess energy.? Why they Dance!

Just like Zorba, when they’re faced with life’s frustrations or they are happy because elk giddiness has over taken them, they dance. And of course you must dance with a friend, and you must dance as if you mean it. Throw caution to the winds, let your inhibitions float away on the summer breezes and dance. Steps are not important, neither is skill, what is important is that you make certain that the universe knows that you are a young bull in your prime and you have your entire future ahead of you.

So listen, we can learn a lot from our animal friends and if you find yourself in a snit, or life is unfair, or you are just insanely happy for no apparent reason, go find yourself a lingering snowfield, throw your antlers back and follow their lead and dance your shiny hooves off. You”ll feel better I guarantee it.

Ambassador from Sirius the Dog Star

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We have gotten tons of letters here at the Institute of Regained Knowledge or IRK as it is affectionately called by our many readers who don’t like to read long names, asking “Why don’t you ever post anything about the ‘Power Centers of the Southwest’ and their role in the aid and assistance of intergalactic transport?” Well it’s funny you should ask because we were going to do just that very thing.

It is a little known fact that IRK  with its COWGFLOP ( Checking Out Weird Guys From Other Low-rent Places) scientific research division has long been involved with and assisted in the various programs by the Government and serious civilian organizations that reach out, assist, promote and monitor travel among the different folks in the Galaxy. We have on our staff several researchers that regularly speak to individuals in different star systems not to mention different dimensions who are much more advanced in their mode of travel than we are and are just looking for a fun place to go on their vacation. Mostly its Vegas but occasionally they want to see the sights. We’ve been accused of being little more than an intergalactic travel agency but we refute such accusations with really vehement denials. After all we have to protect our phony baloney jobs somehow, I mean we  conduct serious research here and will not be slandered.

One of our particularly gifted Adepts or ‘far reaching talkers’ as we prefer to call them regularly communicates with the Ambassador from Sirius, the Dog Star, and they have gotten to be quite good friends, having toured the Mall of America and other cool places together.

What you see above is the actual act of the Ambassador from the star Sirius nearly completing his trans-teleportation using one of the countries most top-secret power center locations. Its sort of like an interdimensional bus stop for the galaxies travelers. Unfortunately due to strict regulations and restrictions set up by our government, the one that’s here to help you, we can not legally divulge its name or location. We can tell you however that it is very near, within a few feet actually, of Upper Antelope Canyon which is just outside of Page, Arizona and is open to the public year round for a small nominal fee. Also any attempt to publish or make money off the exploitation of our galactic friends will result in huge fines, jail time and dismemberment, so we’re pretty darn careful not to do that for sure. Since all you can see is the beginning of his tail starting to become visible from the ‘beaming down’ part of the sequence we feel safe in displaying that much of the process. Plus we haven’t used his name which is unpronounceable in our tongue but  sounds a lot like the answer to that riddle when you ask a dog “What does sand paper feel like?” Or “What’s on top of a house?” We can’t get any more specific than that, see rules and penalties above, but we can say that our interpreter says it means “DownBoy”.

As stated previously we normally do not disclose any facts or itinerary’s regarding our travelers for security reasons but this one fact was leaked by person or persons unknown. (See WickiLeaks entry dated July 12th 2013) The Ambassador is here to spend their national holiday ‘Finding the Golden Bone’ by touring the largest Dog Park in the United States, “DogWood” near Jacksonville, Florida. This place is the DisneyWorld and every other major theme park rolled into one for those of the canine persuasion and the only one of its kind in the whole mapped Cosmos. We are very proud of our American entrepreneurial spirit. We can only hope that the Ambassador has an amazing time and brings back many more of his hairy brethren in the future. We Stand To make a Killing if this takes off, I mean we look forward to promoting good fellowship and intergalactic peace in the future for all species-kind. Happy traveling.

Wakey, Wakey

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Wakey, wakey, doesn’t that just make you want to puke. It is always said by someone who has managed to get up before you and wants to spread the misery. For those poor souls who can not sleep as late as nature intended  and must get up and face the new dawn, you should not have to listen to someone who says wakey, wakey, especially not from those sadists who also include Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey. Consequently I have introduced legislation that will have every single person who says wakey, wakey struck with a hot frying pan filled with eggs and bakey at least twice somewhere about their head and shoulders. Twice, because it usually takes at least that many times before the offender gets the idea that they have offended. The first smack normally feeds into their glee from saying it to you (they know you hate it) and by the second one they realize they’re in deep kimchi. As for the soulless individuals who include the eggs and bakey part, they get their tongues spot welded to the top of their mouth. No three strikes and you’re out crap here. The first time you say it and mean it, out comes the Tig welder.

But it is a fact of life that you do have to get up and unfortunately that usually happens at the exact moment you want to sleep the most. You’re in your favorite position, the pillow is just right, you’re in that spot between deep sleep and wakefulness and the alarm goes off. Or worse yet the devil, the one seen in the paragraph above comes in and says, wait, I’m not even going to say it, but you know what I mean.

Here’s my proposal. Instead of the trauma described previously a soft mellow tone similar to the one heard from a point slightly down the valley from that temple just outside of Kyoto rings once. The one where they ring it early in the morning before the fog has even gently drifted away. The one that echo’s back and forth between the valley walls becoming fainter and fainter. The one whose resonance hangs in the air forever it seems, until it too fades slowly away. It is so beautiful that you want to wake up just to hear it one more time. Then your entire ceiling begins to lighten and the image above, or one like it, begins to appear until your entire room is filled with the magical, glowing light of daybreak. Huh? How about that?  Now you want to get up, if for no other reason than to fire up the welder in case that certain someone hasn’t got the message yet.

Surprise-A-Thon!

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I have often spoken about the glamorous life of the wildlife photographer. How it rains money and the wild winds blow in entire clutches of Nature loving groupies and this trip was no exception, except for the raining money and wild wind groupies part. But adventure and the thrill of the new is what counts, so in that regard this trip was a resounding success.

As I was trudging along the back roads of Utah on my way West, dragging my gear behind me in my own customized King Sooper bag, the one with ‘Expensive Photographic Gear Inside, Do Not Steal’, on it, I saw a sign proclaiming “Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge this Way” on it, with the ‘This Way’ part pointing off into the heat shimmer and the mirage like mountains lying low against the horizon, probably three days away.

Being an experienced wildlife, bird refuge, photo taking guy I wasn’t impressed. It was 108′ and the little sun hat I had bought for the trip had long been lost to the caprious wind and my sunglasses were all fogged up and my custom King Soopers bag kept getting caught in the rocks along the road and the bottom was tearing out and I had used the last of my duck tape to repair it back in Wyoming, and I thought “Do I really want to walk for three days to see a dumb little bird refuge that probably only had two sparrows, a crow and a molting old penguin in a cage?” The truth was I did.

I did because I believe in the Surprise-A-Thon. The Surprise-A-Thon is an almost mythical event known only to grizzled old photogs and is more of a gut instinct phenomenon where you believe that you will stumble into that Holy Grail of places where everywhere you look is a new, never seen before image and you are the only photographer there. Your camera is working perfectly, you have fresh batteries and empty memory cards and you have been reborn. It is that glorious experience you always dream about and it is yours alone.

And that’s what happened at the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge. Everywhere I turned there was a new specie of bird saying “Take my picture, Be Famous! Look, I’ll Do This Amazing Thing Just For You!” and I did, I took its picture. His and hundreds more just like him, hopping around, flying, standing, yelling, watching their little bird kids, making threatening gestures to their neighbors if they got too close, doing everything that birds do when they think there is no one watching them.

I had hit the Surprise-A-Thon mother lode. As I slowly made my way around the 12 mile road with its lakes, and river and water moving ditches I saw one amazing bird activity after another. There was every specie from Albatross, actually there weren’t any Albatrosses there but I’m sure there was another species that started with the letter A, to Ze’ flying Seagulls. It covered the entire alphabetical gamut of bird-dom.

The thing that stands out in my mind the most however was this shot of a Black-Crowned Night Heron flying off with an unfortunate garter snake it had just caught. I had just finished backtracking a quarter of a mile picking up various lenses and filters and empty water bottles after the bottom of my King Sooper bag ripped out again for like, the One Millionth Time and spotting a little pond where the water was only marginally green I was going to slake my thirst. My plan was to stagger forward and plunge my head down beneath its surface and suck up at least a half of its volume being careful of course not to get too much mud in with it because pond mud isn’t too clean, but just as I was about to take the plunge, the Black-Crowned Night Heron in the shot above took flight. And it had a snake in its bill. Nirvana! That’s what lucky wildlife photographers yell when something very, very cool happens. I yelled it a bunch. I even forgot about my thirst. Yippee!, Wowser!, Oh Man!, those are other things lucky Photographers say when… well, you get the picture. It was a good day to be a wildlife shooter. Shortly after that I think I lost consciousness.

Fortunately some kind nameless stranger stopped and poured a bottle of water over my head as I lay there in the gravel at the side of the road still clutching my King Sooper bag to my chest and awakening, being somewhat refreshed, I was able to find the strength to get up and continue my journey. If it weren’t for the images on my memory card I would almost believe the whole thing had been a dream. But it wasn’t, the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge really exists right outside of Brigham City, the cardboard core from my roll of Duck tape still sits in the trash receptacle where I placed it and hopefully the Black-Crowned Night Heron is still there catching snakes. And I was alive to shoot again another day, hoping against hope to experience the Surprise-A-Thon one more time.

Multiple Emails

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Dear Readers, to those of you who have subscribed to the blog and receive a daily email notifying you of each new post you may receive 2-3 emails instead of the usual 1 per reader. My apologies, mea culpa, I’m sorry, (please translate my apology into what ever language you speak so that it feels more genuine).

Apparently I said something derogatory about my computer within its hearing and it is now punishing me by doing whatever it wants to. I have the best minds in the IT world being assembled from across the globe to fix this problem or at least placate my machine so it will forgive me but in the interim if you would please bear with me I would appreciate it.

This is embarrassing for me as I was born under the sign of the Golden Modem but it is proving to be a difficult demon to exorcise. This is not a virus, so don’t worry in that regard, it is instead a little switch somewhere deep in the bowels of the satanic, I mean mis-guided machine that has set itself to inflict the maximum amount of misery into my life. But I will find it. I will. So again thank you for your patience and understanding.

Dark Days

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Summer is the time when we seem to have the most radical changes in our weather, especially as it concerns light. It can start out bright sun and clear skies and suddenly a storm will roll off the mountains and create huge towering clouds and everything goes dark. Then within moments the storm moves on and it’s sunny again. The trick is to be somewhere cool when all that changing is happening.

Fortunately that isn’t difficult around here. This place is so cool that just going to the dumpsters to dump the trash is neat. The place pictured above isn’t near the dumpsters however, I had to travel nearly five whole miles to be in the right spot for this shot. Yeah I know, epic journeys like that are the stuff of legend but when it’s an everyday occurrence you sort of just take it in stride. Coloradoans are an adventurous lot and when you’re a photographer to boot, well, there’s nothing we won’t do to get the shot. Even if means standing next to a busy highway with dangerous semi-trucks whizzing by blowing their horns because they think you’re parked too close to the roadway and you went and forgot your dumb sunglasses and there might be rattlesnakes somewhere nearby  and so on and so on. The risks are mind-boggling but we don’t care we’re bred for it. I must admit I’ve done even more riskier stuff to get the shot but those are stories for another time. And I can make up only so much of this stuff at one time, I mean with so many adventures under my belt it becomes difficult to remember them all.

With all the varied types of scenery we have it almost becomes a chore to decide where to shoot. This view is looking east, if you turn and look west you will see the foothills and towering mountains. To the south and slightly east the plains roll on forever and you can see straight ahead for two days. And that’s just the overview, as you look closer there are countless details that would take several lifetimes to photograph. Then add the seasons in the mix and you don’t know if you’ve been snakebit or struck by lightning because when it comes to making choices, you’re paralyzed. Now before I make this sound like it’s an impossible task I must confess that it’s not as difficult as I may make it sound, Jeez if you stumble and press the shutter right before your face smacks the pavement you’re going to get a great shot. It’s much more difficult to stay cool and suave looking while you’re working than it is to make magnificent photos. I mean you don’t want to look like some dweeb when you’re out here

So remember to look in your backyard when you want to take pictures, you might have a view out there just like this one that you haven’t noticed before. If you do grab your camera and get out there while the storms still here. There’s pictures to get took.