Tag Archives: trout

Summer Wind

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There are portions of the Firehole river that race down from its confluence with the Madison and Gibbon rivers to tumble over the Firehole falls and through the Firehole canyon. At this point it’s a boisterous, tumultuous river, roaring with exuberance as it crashes over rocks, slams around high walled bends in the canyon, and sends its white frothed waters dancing into the air. Finally it makes its way through the Firehole Cascades and begins to widen and slow down and rest for awhile.

As it enters the Fountain Flats area very near the Mount Mary/Nez Perce trail it becomes an entirely different river. It’s wider, slower, often attaining a mirror like surface reflecting the pines that line its banks, with nothing to break its surface but the occasional trout rising to take a Stonefly or White Miller Caddis. Osprey take advantage of its crystal clarity to swoop down and grab its daily meal sending widening ripples outward until gradually the river returns to its quiet flow.

It is here that a pair of Trumpeter swans took residence one late spring choosing this quiet stretch of river to mate and feed and make it their home, at least for the summer. They slowly cruised up and down the still waters, gently feeding along the banks and seining the river bottom with their large webbed feet to bring the insects and other choice bits to the surface.

One warm summer day the breezes that blew up and down the river causing ripples and swirls and little wavelets to spread across the river’s surface, disturbing its normal mirror like surface, found one of the swans standing on the bank. It wasn’t a strong breeze but it was enough to stir something in the swan. A memory of past flights perhaps, or a reminder of changes to come, it called to the swan and it spread its wings and raised itself high to catch every delicious bit of the breeze ruffling its feathers. Most likely reminding it of the journey it and its mate would soon be taking as the summer wind changed to fall. The call to them to begin that journey to their winter home too strong to ignore. That will come later, for now it can bask in the sun and take delight in the wonder and warmth of the summer wind.

Animal Portraits – Otters

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I was walking down memory lane this morning when I found myself along the Madison river in Yellowstone. It was way back in 2005 and I had been hoping to see some elk cross the river. Elk crossing the river is always good shooting. Bulls stopping to thrash their antlers in the water, throwing spray into the air, bellowing, cows bunching up to wait him out before they cross behind him. This was September so the rut was in full force and there was always lots of action.

But there weren’t any elk. They had moved out to greener pastures and the river was empty. I was just getting ready to pack up and find something else to shoot when I heard a high-pitched squealing coming from downstream. It was a young otter that had gotten separated from its family and was crying desperately to be found. It was racing frantically back and forth along the bank, shooting out into the river, climbing everything it could find and continually calling out for the others to come find it. This was the beginning of a very good afternoon.

Now otters in Yellowstone are not rare. But they’re one of those animals that you never see. Not unless you’re lucky. You can spend your entire time hunting for them, chasing down rumors, staking out places where they’ve been and never see one. Then you’ll talk to someone who had been picnicking at one of the picnic sites along the river and they’re all “Oh yeah we saw them. They were fishing right in front of us. One of them caught this great big trout. It was really neat. There was like four of them.  You should have been here. ” Serendipity plays a very big part in Otter spotting.

Now any place along the river is prime otter territory but there are some places more prime than others. I just happened to be unknowingly at one of them at just the right time. There is a spot on the Madison that is called the “Log Jam”. It’s just a little ways upstream past 7 mile bridge in a wide shallow bend in the river. It’s shallower there than the areas above and below and consequently a perfect place for the logs and branches floating downstream to snag and pile up forming the log jam.

This is the otter equivalent of Disneyworld. They go absolutely gonzo nuts in a place like that. First off every part of the Log Jam in an E ticket ride, they crawl up on it, they dive off of it, they wrestle and toss each other into the river. They take naps on the larger logs that are warm from the sun, hang out, talk about their day, fight, play snuggle, goof off, and generally just be otters, plus there’s food all over the place. Trout are always under and around the logs and so are the otters, because the only thing they like better than playing and sleeping is eating.

The otter family wasn’t lost. They were just upstream of the log jam and the youngster was on the downstream side. After Mom heard the little one wailing she gave a few sharp barks and soon they were all reunited again. Thus began one of the most perfect afternoons in the entire history of Yellowstone, Photography, Otter watching and sublime happiness, ever. As if deciding to give this photographer a gift they spent the next several hours swimming back and forth between that Log Jam and the confluence of the Madison and Gibbon and Firehole rivers at the eastern end of the Madison valley. Maybe a distance of 5 or 6 miles. We, the otters and I, plus about a dozen other photographers that joined in, walked back and forth along that stretch of river until I had filled every storage card I had with me with otter pictures and the otters decided it was time to go somewhere else. Without a sound they suddenly turned and swam downstream faster than we could run and they were gone. In the nearly 10 years since that afternoon that I’ve been going to Yellowstone I have never duplicated that experience again.

Fortunately I have these images to remind me of that incredible afternoon. It’s not the same but it’s pretty darn good.

Snake River Cruiser

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Standing on the banks of the Snake river waiting for something to happen is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Its quiet here, the river here is flat, slow and lazy as it forms a big sweeping bend through the pines on its way downstream. The surface is a sheet of glass, mirroring everything above it without a ripple to mar it’s surface. Over near the bank a family of mergansers are squabbling, and soon one takes off in a running pattern across the rivers surface, head outstretched, each foot leaving a small splash as it tries to gain speed for its takeoff.

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Occasionally a trout will jump for a fly but its short lived time spent in another dimension is soon over and it returns to it’s element with nothing to show for its effort but a series of slowly spreading rings that ripple in the sunlight. The river murmurs as the rings reach the bank and send little waves against the moist earth while stems of grass leaning into the water bend slowly and rhythmically with each wave.

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Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere a Bald Eagle soars slowly around the bend nonchalantly cruising above the river. It slowly flaps it’s wings but mostly glides watching intently for that shadow moving just below the surface. Sometimes you can hear the wind moving through the feathers of it’s wings but not today. Today it is silent. The trout that so recently leapt into the air makes a fatal mistake and moves too close to the surface, it’s dorsal fin breaking through and giving itself away to the hunter above. One quick dive, talons open, the eagle makes contact with the surface, and the fish and it is all over. It leaps back into the air, it’s catch firmly grasped as the hunter wings it’s way to the big pine on the river’s bank.

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Many times these small acts of nature are the biggest part of your day and leave the longest lasting memories.This scene was not only captured by the camera it was indelibly etched into my memories and will surface during quiet times to be enjoyed over and over.

Fishing Wolves

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This is a fishing wolf. Actually it is a captive gray wolf that lives at the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center in West Yellowstone, Montana. The pack members were born in captivity and can not be released back into the wild. Every effort is made to provide them with natural surroundings and as close to wild conditions as possible. To keep them engaged mentally they are provided with the ability to hunt their own food, but in a very special way.

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The staff brings in a barrel full of live trout and releases them into the stream that runs through the wolves enclosure. The trout range in size from 6-7″ up to 12″ or so. They immediately spread throughout the stream and it becomes very difficult to find them.

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As soon as the staff leaves the area the wolves begin the hunt. They start by walking along the bank and poking into the areas next to rocks and along the shore hoping to feel one with their paws. The fish are difficult to see and the wolves have to rely on touch. Their sense of smell doesn’t help them either and the hunt becomes a definite challenge for them.

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When the light is right and the fish are moving the wolves can sometimes see where the fish are. They spend quite a while standing very still and watching until they get a line on where they think the fish is.

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Then they do something I’ve never seen a wolf do in the wild. They plunge their heads completely under water hoping to catch the fish. I don’t know if they keep their eyes open while their heads are submerged or if they simply rely on luck to make contact. This happens over and over and they never seem to tire of it. Some of the wolves are better at this than others, keeping their heads under longer and sweeping it back and forth.

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The downside of this method is you sometimes get water in your ears.

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But you shake it off and go back to the hunt.

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Then just when it looks like they will never catch one, they do. Success at last. Keeping a good grip on the thrashing fish this wolf makes his way out of the stream.

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Catching one of the wily trout calls for a victory lap which also doubles as an opportunity to look for a place to eat his prize in peace.

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Having found his favorite place in the sun he settles down to enjoy his hard won meal. Surprisingly or maybe not, as wolves tend to be polite to each other, there is very little poaching by the other wolves. If they catch it, it’s theirs and they are left to finish it in peace.

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The others in the pack redouble their efforts now that they have seen how it’s done. This process will fill up the better part of a day until all or most of the wolves have caught their limit.