Fauna: Fringe Photography

Golden Takeoff

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

As the sun begins its journey into the western sky, and daylight fades, photographers everywhere pop out for the magic of Golden Hour. No matter how hard you look, you'll not see them, but at one minute into Golden Hour, well, there they are, looking as if they had been there forever. And once the hour has past, so goes the photo folks, and they fade once again into the landscape as if by magic.

How do I know this? Because I am one of them. Oh yes, I'll probably be drummed out of the corps for admitting this, but I am one of the Golden Hour seekers.

And why not? For, you see, wonderful opportunities abound during this time. Let's take a perfectly random example to illustrate this. Let's take, oh, a pond. And, of course the sunset throwing long copper and golden rays. Interest. We need something of interest for the pond. Oh! I know! Let's use, hmmm.... a crane! Yes! A Sandhill Crane! As long as we're at it, we might as well have the crane taking off, too. And if we let our imagination run with this pond, sunset and crane, it might look something a little like the above.

Sunny Fox

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, New Mexico is an absolutely wonderful place to visit: they are dedicated, and I mean dedicated, to helping wolves. They care for them, house them, feed them, and do phenomenal work for and with the wolves. We took a photo tour of the sanctuary, which means that we had direct access to the wolves themselves, with no fences nor barriers between the camera and the wolf. There are more than a few wolves in the sanctuary, so naturally, we started with the red fox.

This is Romeo, a rescue Red Fox. He came from the midwest, and started life as a pet. As it turns out, keeping a fox as a pet, despite the ultimate in the coolness factor, is just not a good idea. They are smart, clever, way active and, uh, on the active side. They just, in the end, don't make a good pet, which is unfortunate for Romeo. Luckily, the wonderful folks here took over his care, and he is living out his days in foxy luxury. He's super friendly, very playful, not shy in the least, and best of all (for me), loves to mug it up for the camera.

Which is how this particular shot came about. Meet Romeo. He's foxy, and he's a great guy.

Peak-A-Boo Deer

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

As a small child, there are many games we love to play. Perhaps, though, one of the more popular ones is the venerable game of “Peak-A-Boo.” You know, the one where you hide your face in your hands, then reveal your face yelling “PEAK-A-BOO” in an overly loud voice, scaring the child in question, drawing puzzling looks from everyone around you, and summoning the authorities all in one fell swoop?

Er, anyway. The point is that you hide behind something which clearly doesn't hide you, on the assumption that the child doesn't figure it out.

As best as I can figure, this deer knows Peak-A-Boo, too, because clearly, hiding behind that small branch really, really didn't work out too well for the deer. On the other hand, it worked out for me really well.

Peak-A-Boo! (But I said it in a really quiet voice)

Riding Hood Who?

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

I was fortunate enough to get to Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary. It was an absolutely incredible experience; being in with and around the wolves was something else entirely. At first, I was a little nervous around the wolves, but quickly learned that they were far, far more interested in my smell than anything else. A wolf's sense of smell is something like, I was told, 1,000 times better than ours, so they would stand back and smell me from afar. I quickly enough became used to that and paid it no attention after a short while. And some common objects, too, would cause them to spook just a little bit, like for example, my hat, or, oh, say, a cape. And a cape with a hood caused them to, well, best not to go there.

I spent a good amount of time with the wolves, but alas, it was eventually (and all too soon) time to depart. As I exited the last enclosure I turned around for a last look. Much to my alarm, however, I could not find "Red" (a companion. Everyone just called her "Red"), no matter how much I looked. Just her red cape was there, casually discarded on the ground.

And there, standing not too far away from me, was this particular wolf, just looking at me, as if to say "Little Red Riding Hood Who?"

Intense Dakota

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

There are, imagine this, wolves at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary. Real wolves. And, thanks to the very kind folks there, I was able to go on a tour of the sanctuary: I was inside the fences with the wolves, with nothing except our wits, our keen woodsman-ship and our skills to keep us out of danger. Nah. It wasn't exactly like that, really.

The wolves I encountered we all very friendly, and the greatest danger I was in was from a 100 pound overly friendly animal deciding to greet you and make friends with you. Of course, 100 pounds of friendly wolf can be a wee bit overwhelming, so I had a guide with us to keep me (and the wolves, for that matter) out of trouble. It was an incredible experience to be able to be so close to these magnificent animals.

Their fur, by the way, feels nothing like you would expect. I thought, it being wet fur and all, that my hands would come away smelling like wet dog. Amazingly, that was not the case and their fur was clean, wonderful to the touch, and had little to no smell at all to it. And I got to feel a whole lot of different fur, because I met a whole lot of different wonderful wolves.

This particular wolf (to bring us back on topic, more or less) is Dakota. Dakota is friendly, personable, and quite the character. He was great to hang around to get to know, and what a fine fellow he is.

Oh. Petting a wolf in the wild…that probably isn't the best thing to do. Not every wolf is as friendly as Dakota. But that's OK, because he more than makes up for the rest of them.

Two Wolves

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

While on my tour of the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, NM I had a lot of opportunities to take some incredibly wonderful close up shots of the wolves. As you first meet each wolf, you are a source of great curiosity to the wolves: they want to know all about you and size you up (and it is best to avoid thinking about if they are going to season you with salt and pepper. No, not at all. Just don't go there and you'll be fine), but after a while they get back to doing whatever wolf business they were up to before you interrupted them.

This particular pair was really fond of a tree. They kept hanging out by the tree, which was fine with me, since it gave me the opportunity to grab this particular shot. And really, I am still not sure what that tongue was about, but the thought is there that the wolf was thinking "tasty human. Needs salt, though." Oh...the red spot that looks suspiciously like blood on the frontmost wolf?

Yeah. We'll just leave that question alone. But it sure does look like blood, doesn't it? In fact...

Yeah.

(In total fairness, and setting aside the somewhat dramatic description above, being in with the wolves was an incredible experience, and if you have any chance...take it! The wolves are for the most part very gentle, and besides, you will be with an exceptionally competent and careful guide to keep everything calm and wonderful.)

Still. That spot...

Wolf Eyes

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The eyes have it. Oh yes indeed, they have it. Deep. Intense. Staring right through you and at you at the same time. Yellow in exactly the shade of yellow that eyes should not be. Seeing you, all of you, sizing you up, measuring you, and taking complete stock of you. Non-blinking and non-wavering the eye have it.

And they have you.

This particular pair of eyes belongs to a wolf at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, NM. The WSWS (when abbreviated) is all about the care and rehabilitation of wolves; they have more than a few there in varying stages of wolveness. Some are a little more gentle around humans than others. And some, like the guy, leave a little room for doubt.

Oh. And that spot of blood? Hard to see, I know, because the eyes hold you. But it certainly leaves room for doubt, doesn't it?

Mischievous Fox

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Who knows what mischief lurks behind these deceptively docile eyes. For, after all, we are looking at Romeo, and yes, Romeo is a fox. A Red Fox, to be precise, and all fox.

I encountered Romeo at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, NM. The wonderful folks over at WSWS (as they like to abbreviate it) are all about the rescue of wolves, their rehabilitation, and their long term care. After all, someone has to the look after the wolves, and wolves are their passion. But wait. Romeo is a fox, so what is a fox doing in a wolf sanctuary, and is there a henhouse nearby?

As it turns out, the WSWS has a deep soft spot for almost any animal in need. Romeo started life as a house pet (hint: bad idea), and that just didn't work out. Having nowhere else to go, and very limited options, the very kind folks here built a specific enclosure just for him. Although he is not tending to chickens, Romeo has quite a lot to keep him busy. Luckily for me, he took time out from his day to talk with me, pose for me, and spend a few moments.

He never did tell me what he was up to. But I think I might be better off not knowing, too. Sly like a fox, indeed!

Dawn Flight

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Dawn.

The general problem with dawn activities is that they generally happen at or around (and sometimes even before) sunrise. And the problem with sunrise is that it happens first thing in the morning, and we all know what the problems with mornings are. If you happen to combine said dawn activity with a winter month, well, you can see where this is going. Before this, I thought I knew was cold was. I was wrong.

The event in question is the 2009 Festival of the Cranes in the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. It is an incredible--and deeply awe-inspiring--experience to watch a lot (in this particular case, "a lot" means somewhere more than you can possibly count...seriously) of geese, cranes and winged critters of all types suddenly take to the sky. The sound is like that of thunder, and a peaceful, serene pond is transformed into a storm of activity that lasts mere moments before all is quiet again.

Now, to see this, one needs to stand around for a couple of hours in the pre-dawn darkness of a cold November day, waiting. (It is almost about 1,000 degrees colder, too, when you are just standing and waiting.) You are waiting for the sun to begin to rise and the birds to take flight. You are waiting for your toes to give up and leave you in search of someplace warm. You are just waiting for things to happen. You are shivering, trying to stay warm, wondering why it is that you are there watching birds sleep, but mostly you are waiting for an extraordinary spectacle to unfold. And once it does, you realize that all that discomfort was nothing compared to what you just witnessed.

After the great flight, the sun continued to rise as a few birds made their own private flight. These few birds were some of those and this shot of sandhill cranes was taken in the golden glow of the morning. It was...incredible.

Crane Flight

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

It was just after sunrise in the Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge on a cold November morning. As they do every morning in the winter, the birds arise from the ponds where they spent the night and head off to the refuge fields to forage for the day. Once night falls, they return from the fields and once again take up residence in the ponds for the night. The cycle begins anew the next day.

I was lucky enough to catch one of these flights out during the Festival of the Cranes. As it happened this particular morning the light was being downright odd and the sky for just a brief moment was filled with yellows; within moments the rising sun took care of the yellow and filled the sky with blue. However, during this magical moment I managed to get a couple of decent shots. The first was the previous Dawn Flight; the second is this one.

Normally I do absolutely minimal post processing on a picture. This one is a minor exception, however. Aside from the obvious crop, I also raised the contrast slightly (not a lot--just slightly). The sun was just above the top of this picture, meaning I was essentially shooting into the sun, which is an untenable position to be in when trying to bring out the foreground detail. The solution, as I saw it, was simply to remove the foreground detail, leaving this largely silhouetted shots of the Sandhill Cranes leaving for the day.

Saw-Whet Pose

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

This is a rescue Saw-Whet Owl, taken at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge during the Festival of the Cranes. Plenty of fantastic groups are out there taking care of nature when it needs help, and this little guy is a rescue from one such group. They were kind enough to let folks meet this little guy and he was quite a charmer. In fact, for all the world he seemed to know what a camera was and how to strike a pose--my finger never has hit the shutter button so fast. He just sat there, very willingly, and very happily (I think. Come to think of it, how do I really know the owl was happy? I'm guessing it was. And if you know differently, please be gentle when you burst my bubble. Anyway.) turning this way and that in the sunlight. He was enjoying the afternoon, enjoying the sunlight (well, it is usually nocturnal, but one must make exceptions now and then), and enjoying it all.

When it comes down to it, is there anything better than spending your afternoon with a posing owl?

Owl Eyes

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

One of the great things about the Festival of the Cranes in the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge is that it is all about the wildlife there, and as such, lots of folks come to exhibit and talk about the various wildlife. And when folks exhibit, therein lies opportunity.

Lots of birds were there from various wildlife rescue groups. These groups do incredible work--they care for those who need our help and often work diligently to reverse the effects of man on our fragile habitat. Support these groups, for our help (that's you and me, you know) is desperately needed. OK. I'll get off the soapbox.

Anyway, not surprisingly, many of the groups were all about various birds...and there in a corner were... owls.

Owls are way fun. They are bright, inquisitive, not camera-shy in the least and definitely interact with you. They watch you, too, which can be a little unnerving because of those eyes. The eyes! Here's a hint: don't try to win a staring contest with an owl. You won't. And this is the voice of experience talking. It's the eyes, you know. That and the fact that they are really sure your name tag says, simply,

"Dinner"

Three Honketeers

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

I've been known to live on the edge of focus. And, more often than I would care for, I fall off that edge. In this case, however, I achieved what I set out to--namely, getting those three geese in the middle spot on while leaving the rest tantalizingly out of focus.

How did I get this shot? By being completely against my nature, which is to say, patient. Just outside of the Bosque del Apache, there is wonderful pond--it's not a big pond, but nor is it small. And best of all, there is nothing whatsoever preventing you from walking right up, and into it. Naturally, this was like a siren call to me once I saw the pond was full of Snow Geese. Grabbing a camera I headed down to the shore and plopped myself down to wait and see what develops. For no explicable reason the Snow Geese started swimming my way from across the pond. "Wonderful, I though to myself," as I continued to sit there. Then, to my utter astonishment they started getting out of the pond pretty close to me. At this point, there was no moving, no getting up, and no way to think about any other piece of equipment save the nice long lens I happened to get (which made sense at the time, since they were across the pond, not next to me. Anyway, one makes due with one has and thus was born my idea of very selective focus.

Time passed, and eventually, the snow geese did, too. But between the time they landed to my right, then passed me on land to my left, this particular shot presented itself. The Three Honketeers led the way from there to here to there. What an incredible experience to be part of and the memory of being in the middle of a gaggle of geese wandering around will be with me for a long time to come.

Snowy Finch

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

It snowed today. That's a little bit unusual, because the forecast actually called for snow. And today… it snowed, right as expected. Throughout the day it snowed harder then softer, softer then harder, but it never really quite stopped making for an all in all gorgeous day.

The birds didn't stop eating, either. In fact, they went through somewhere just around 100,000 pounds of bird food (well, it certainly seems that way. I know, I exaggerate. It is closer to 2,000,000 pounds), but that's OK because it was so amazing to see all the birds hovering around the feeder.

Which brings us to this particular photo. This House Finch was captured on a branch just after it visited the feeder; it was probably deciding if it should go back for seconds, or thirds, or maybe 100ths. In any case, though, it sat on the branch long enough for me to grab a camera, focus it, and get this picture. In perfect timing the finch took off just after I pressed the shutter, but leaving just after is way better than leaving just before.

It snowed today. The birds were out, and it was a lovely day for pictures.

Hummingbird Flight

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Hummingbirds are not the easiest bird in the world to get a good shot of. The tend to be really, really fast (as you can imagine) and don't always stay in one place. Catching one in flight, then, is a little bit harder.

This lovely bird, however, was caught in flight. As he was approaching a feeder he began to pull up; it was at this moment in time my opportunity came about, and I was not shy. As it turned out, I had been sitting there, waiting, waiting, waiting for the longest time before this shot came about. But, really, is there any better way to spend an afternoon watching hummingbirds do their thing?

Hummingbird Race

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Supper Time!

Words that are guaranteed to bring children (and sometimes adults) out from whatever hiding place they happen to be in. It doesn't matter how loud you say it, either, for with these magical words, a whisper is as good as a bullhorn.

The animal kingdom is no different.

These female Anna's Hummingbirds must have heard those sweet words whispered upon the breeze, for they are racing toward the feeder (just out of frame on the left). I heard them come in from my right--the small hum was ever so faint at first, then louder and louder and louder, and before I knew it, here they came, racing in to the feeder.

Supper Time!

Wascally Wabbit

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Ssshhhh… be wery wery, quiet. We are hunting wabbit. And not just any wabbit, but a wabbit in the snow.

I had known this particular rabbit was there for the longest time, of course. I could see the tracks--fresh tracks, mind you--throughout the day. But the wabbit was that of a ghost, for no matter patient I was, it did not materialize. Luckily I am pretty darn patient, and finally I managed to catch it while it was outside of its hole. A moment later I had my ever elusive quarry square in my sights and the picture is now mine. Hah! Camera 1, Wabbit 0 (if we were keeping score. Which, given the number of times I'd missed this wabbit, it is a good thing we're weren't keeping score, come to think of it). At any rate, the Wascally Wabbit was now caught, fair and square.

Wounded Antelope

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

It is the Circle of Life, I suppose, although we do not always see such a graphic reminder of it, either.

This Pronghorn Antelope at Fairlyland Point in Bryce Canyon National Park bears witness to this. On the its back you'll note what looks to be some growths or something. They aren't growths. They are, in fact, what is left of this creature's rear end after it managed to survive an attack, probably by mountain lion. The wounded, torn flesh is a result of the (probable) mountain lion's claws sinking into the antelope's back as it attempted to pull it down. Somehow or other, this antelope broke free of that attack, managed to escape, and managed to live against long odds.

It was incredibly wary as I approached it, that's for sure. It took me for what seemed like forever, but I managed to get close enough to take this shot without spooking it.

Wild Kingdom, indeed.

Kestrel Landing

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The American Kestrel. Small, yes. But its size belies its intensity, for make no mistake about it… the American Kestrel is a raptor, a bird of prey and a very, very fine hunter.

This particular male just happens to be in full breeding color; note the intense orange around its beak, and if you happened to be a female kestrel, well, you would find this particular fellow quite handsome indeed. He is just landing on a perch when this shot was taken, perhaps to reset and begin to look for lunch.

And being on the wrong end of the American Kestrel, small though it may be, is not something I would care to be. Oh no. Not at all.

Hawk Eye

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The Red Tailed Hawk. Long held sacred and long sought after for falconry, it remains a formidable hunter. If you are in North American and look to the skies, chances are you might see one of the incredible birds of prey soaring above.

These are large birds. Very large, actually, and their wingspan can easily be over four feet. And they can live a pretty long time, as well: up to 20 years in the wild. No wonder this incredible bird holds such a special place among us.

This particular bird was caught as it was looking away from me, but just for a moment. As it turned its head, its eye caught the surrounding trees, and quick as a wink the picture was taken. And good thing, too, for the instant I took the picture it whirled its head back around to look at me long and hard. Those eyes, when they are looking straight at you, hold you're attention, and makes you glad you are big enough to not be considered for lunch.

Blue Hoo

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

What's in a name, really?

This little fellow, formally known to us since 1867, has more names than you would imagine… the most common name, of course, is the Western Screech Owl, but some of the more fanciful names include Dusk Owl, Ghost Owl, Mouse Owl, Cat Owl, Little Cat Owl, and, well, let's just say that the list is a really long one, shall we?

Like all birds of prey, size is no indication of hunting skill, and if you think the list of names for this fellow are long you should see their dinner menu… if it flies, hops, swims, crawls, slithers, creeps, or even moves, it is fair game. This little guy might only be a few inches tall, but, he is quite the accomplished hunter.

And talkative, too. The Screech doesn't really "screech", but does make the all too familiar soft and mellow "hoo-hoo-hoo" sound heard throughout western North America.

As you walk through the forest, just after sunset, and hear that familiar call, you'll know a screech is close by. Maybe it is, in owl-speak, swearing up a blue streak. Maybe it is sounding out its territory. Or maybe, just maybe, it is saying its name (by whatever name it is called).

Peek-A-Boo Mustang

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Deep in the heart of the Monero Mustang Sanctuary there exists a small watering hole. It isn’t really a big watering hole, really, but it does include the most important bit: water. It also includes another important bit: a berm that partly shields the water hole from the surroundings. And where there is water, the wild mustangs will come. But these are wild mustangs. Although familiar with humans, they are not accustomed to the human hand and certainly not in the mood to be domesticated. So, they maintain a good deal of caution around us (rightly so, too, since many of the mustangs in the sanctuary have been rescued from human abuse) and sometimes are not in the mood to be seen.This is La Vieja, a mare caught peeking over the berm next to the water hole, just to see what, or who, was out there. The “who” of course was myself, camera in hand, capturing the moment. We looked at each other for a brief moment, acknowledging each other. That moment was brief and La Vieja turned away from the berm for that much needed and ever so pleasant drink.Postscript: Just a couple of days after this photo was taken La Vieja became a mother to a wonderful filly. You can bet that both of them are now at the water hole, playing peek-a-boo.

Afternoon Adventure

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Ah, to be young again. To walk amongst the fields without a care in the world. To wander away from your band, heading elsewhere, never once looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone might be following. To spend your afternoons in bliss, for up ahead of you is endless fields of grass and adventure.This young mustangs are on their own afternoon adventure. Part of Hombre’s band in the Monero Mustang Sanctuary, they were born into relative freedom. Thanks to the efforts of the Sanctuary, their parents were rescued from various fates, none of which bode well for them. Coming together from all over the southwest, the mustangs have formed new bands, and with the forming of new bands comes the newborn. Sure, the Sanctuary has fence along the outer border, but it is a very large place, and as such the physical border doesn’t matter as much as it might. And within, freedom for all the mustangs is given. What an incredible gift that is.Ah, to be young again, born into freedom. Onward into the afternoon!

Peek-A-Boo Elk

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

“Whatcha doin?”I about jumped out of my skin, for, after all, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be spoken to just then. All my attention had been focused on the sunset in front of me, and, well, most of the time Elk don’t really talk much. Turning to the young fellow, though, I explained that I was trying to take a picture of this amazing sunset here at the Grand Canyon.“Oh.” was all he said in response to that, and he continued to peek over the top of the other Elk who was was simply enjoying the sunset. The sun continued to creep lower and in a moment it would be perfect. But just as I was getting ready to finally get the perfect shot, a loud, and very startling “NOW!” broke the spell. I jumped about a mile, straight up. The camera went flying (but I caught it), and I was left breathless. Glancing at him with a questioning look, he said (gently this time) “now it is perfect.” Indeed it was, and so the moment was captured, the camera put away, and equipment quickly stowed.And with that, we all watched the sun slip below the horizon in companionable silence.

Petrified Lizard

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

In the desert, patience, and the ability to be absolutely motionless, pays off. This Collared Lizard, in the the heart of the Petrified Forest, has learned that lesson well. Perching completely motionless on this piece of petrified wood, he waits. And waits. And waits. And waits.He is so still that he blends right into the background and even when you are looking right at him, well, he just fades away from your sight. Even his bright yellow feet do not give him away, for those just meld perfectly into the petrified wood he is on. And he continues to wait.Which is good for me, really, for it gave me a wonderful opportunity to get close enough for this shot. I really liked the way he was perched, with his head cocked just so--he was looking at me, but not at me, and although he knew I was there, I, apparently, posed no threat at all to him. The sun continued to beat down on us both, but he didn’t flinch.After a time, he decided (I suppose) that a different piece of wood would provide a better vantage point and without a sound nor whisper he was gone. But the picture of him? That remains. Petrified in time.

Intense Pygmy

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

There are, probably, close to a million euphemisms comparing size to everything else. In all of these, the common theme is that the size of something, often someone, has nothing at all to do with their attitude, or capability, or whatever is being compared. Clearly, though, every single one of these has to draw inspiration from the Pygmy Owl.

These guys are small, and are just a few inches high and they weight just a few ounce. But... they don’t know that. And even if you could tell them, they simply would not believe you.

Case in point: this wonderful Pygmy Owl hosted by Wildlife Rescue of New Mexico. Sure, he’s on the small side. But one day they put him next to a Great Horned Owl--a bird of prey many, many, many times larger. Most birds would cower in fear. Most birds would do the sensible thing and leave immediately. Most birds would figure, and rightly so, that their number is up. But, of course, not this fellow. When he was next to the Great Horned Owl he sized it up. He measured it. He studied it. And then. And then he decided to have a Great Horned Owl snack. They are afraid of nothing, will take on prey far larger than them, and are one of the fiercest predators there is. And they have proved right the euphemisms on size many times over.

Inquisitive Kestrel

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The American Kestrel is the most common falcon in North America, and can thrive in a vast variety of habitats. For the most part, put it about anywhere and it will do well... from the forest to the open field, the Kestrel is at home everywhere. This particular female American Kestrel is actually a rescue animal, but she is perched here in front of an open field in the late fall at the Valles Caldera National Preserve in New Mexico. Although it is late autumn here, it is also a bright sunny day and the opportunity for a tasty meal may yet present itself. With her head cocked “just so,”, it appears that she is inquisitive and intent on the meal, and as time went by she became no less inquisitive. Also, with the head cocked, the unique dual vertical black bars, which appear only on the Kestrel, are easily seen in this captureThe Kestrel is not a large bird--not by a long shot. What they lack in size, however, they more than make up for in fierceness as they are superb hunters. Often perching and waiting patiently, they will make a beeline for the meal, which is often on the ground. Snatching it up quickly they are back off to the air. What this one has her eye on is not yet known... but soon will be!

Two Searchers

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Man searches. Nature searches, too.

We look skyward, searching, seeking, looking for answers. We look with our eyes, and we look our telescopes, and in New Mexico we look with radio telescopes at the Very Large Array (VLA). These incredible instruments look well beyond the boundaries of our planet, and are the best that man can make.

Tirelessly seeking, always on the prowl for the stray signal the VLA is always hunting. Always looking. Always searching.

The coyote looks not upward, but rather forward, looking for the next meal. It looks with its eyes and ears and every sense, which nature has tuned and honed until they are the best that they can be.

Tirelessly seeking, always on the prowl for the next meal the coyote is always hunting. Always looking. Always searching.

Nature searches. Man searches, too.

Hidden Elk

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The wind barely has enough life in it to gently rustle the brush, but that's OK. It has been a long day, and the afternoon grows late, meaning it is almost time for the wind to be done for the day. It is still wintertime, too, and although the sun is providing a most wonderful afternoon, the night will be cold, and one is best bundled up. That, of course, includes the wind. With a last half-hearted gesture, the wind puffed once, and then packed it in for the evening.

The sun wasn't ready to give up the day just yet, though, and continued its slow journey to the horizon, bringing the most wonderful hues of gold everywhere.

The sun wasn't the only one out enjoying the afternoon, either. This hidden elk was quite at peace in the golden field; she was still as all can be, not moving an inch, but yet… there was this complete sense of serenity. She was well hidden, and knew it, and was safe, comfortable and very much enjoying the last of the day.

With a gentle click the camera's shutter closed, and the hidden elk was left to enjoy the rest of her golden afternoon.

Soaring Eagle

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

There is nothing, perhaps, more incredible than a bird, wings outspread, soaring high above. Oh, to be free from the constraints of the ground! To be able to spread your wings wide, catch the faintest of all breezes and survey your kingdom from high above. No pity is given to those stuck on the ground.

There is nothing, perhaps, more awe inspiring than a bird of prey, a raptor, with wings outspread, soaring high above. Wings spread wide, eyes intent upon the ground for prey, the hunt happens silently from high up above. For those on the ground safety is not assured.

There is nothing, perhaps, more majestic than a bald eagle, with wings outspread, soaring high above. The sight of one upon the hunt takes one's breath completely away; the eagle itself takes no notice and remains focused entirely upon the task at hand. Back and forth, it swoops up and dives down, all the while its eyes directly intently upon the ground.

At long last, the eagle returns to its catch, resting momentarily. Without warning, its wings unfurl, catch the breeze, and the eagle soars again.

Small Footsteps

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

There is, perhaps, nothing so incredible for a parent than to see their little one take their first footsteps. And, perhaps, there is nothing so incredible for the little one as taking that first footstep into the world and the adventures that lie ahead of them.

In Yellowstone National Park, during the month of June, this tiny vignette is repeated across the park every day by all manner of creatures, from the smallest to the largest inhabitants. Mothers everywhere watch their young find their feet, gather them up, and stand for the first time. From there it quickly progresses to walking, running and then keeping up with their parents.

This particular photo to me is exceptionally poignant. Taken extremely early in the day, it is a small moment in a baby elk calf’s life... he is clearly so proud, so happy and so eager to climb the mountainside to see what wonders await him at the top. His mother, meanwhile, just looked up from her grazing to carefully and proudly watch her youngster, exactly in the manner that all mothers carefully and proudly watch their young depart on their first adventure. It matters not who you are, for all parents experience that moment and it reinforces how wonderful, how incredible and how awesome our world is. Small footsteps!

Welcome, Elk

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Welcome, Elk. We’re glad you’re here.

Springtime in Yellowstone National Park is a wonderful, wonderful time of the year, for not only is the long winter heading out, but green is beginning to show everywhere. Sure, there is a bit of snow here and there (especially at the higher elevations), but there are also fields of green grass, too. Oh, and it just happens to be the time of the year that so many newborn come into the world.

It is hard to saw how long this baby calf elk has been in the world... hours, certainly, but days? No, not really. It is a newborn, fresh to this world, and it is beginning to look around at its surroundings for the very first time (Mom is away at the moment foraging a bit; baby calves are actually very safe when they are newborn, for they give off no scent for a predator to find them by, and remarkably, they stay where they were placed by Mom) and beginning to look out upon its new world. There is nothing so precious as when a newborn stands for the first time, takes it first steps, and fully enters the world.

Welcome, Elk.