Feathered Ornaments
I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many different birds sharing the same small tree. I guess in a bad storm they have to make due. At one point there were three pairs of cardinals perched in this mini tree. I know they don’t usually like to be that crowded, but we got so much snow that day that there wasn’t any other place to go. I felt sorry for them, like I do all wildlife when the weather turns extreme. I took a small hike into the woods late yesterday afternoon in hopes of shooting a sunset. I was stunned by how deep the snow is and how difficult it was to navigate even just a few yards. We’re seeing deer prints on our shoveled and plowed paths, which makes me wonder how long it will be before they start to decimate my shrubs? Oh well … they must need them more than I do now.
Jan 12, 2011 12:00 PM
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 250, 123mm, 1/160, f/8.0.
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor contrast/brightness adj.
What Pond?
It’s hard to believe there’s a pond buried under all that snow. A few surviving cattails poke through the landscape, giving the location away. The barn roof has been cleared off now, and it doesn’t look nearly as pretty as it did in this photo. Stacks of snow surround the outbuildings and I’m more limited getting access around them than ever before. More snow is expected mid-week, but I’m not sure what we’ll do with it when it arrives. And in looking down the line to spring all I can think of is the line from Jaws: “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” The flooding in our basement is going to be epic, for sure. Oh well … It gives me something to look forward to!
Jan 27, 2011 9:36 EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 125, 17mm, 1/160 sec, f/9.0
Lens: Tamron 10-24mm
PS5: HDR Toning & minor adjustments.
Winter Past
I certainly can’t say I have a shortage of winter scenes now. The problem (and there’s always a problem) is getting to places where I can shoot them. To say the snow is deep is an understatement. For example, I haven’t been able to walk down back since Jan 12th because the snow is simply too deep. Yesterday I climbed up on a snowbank that had been plowed and stacked very high. I was hoping to get a better shot at the landscape on the other side. I took one mis-step and my feet plunged crotch-deep into soft powder … and I still hadn’t hit rock-bottom. I couldn’t find a dense enough area to use my hands to push myself up and out, so I was literally trapped in the snow. I had to set my camera down and “swim” toward the cleared area behind me. It wasn’t ‘scary’ but it did squash any thoughts about trying to walk or hike off the cleared paths around the house and barn.
I remember when I was a kid we used to get snow like this in upstate NY. My father would come outside and help my sister and me build a snow igloo. He’d splash water on the igloo in the late afternoon so it would freeze solid overnight, then the next day my sister and I would take our dolls out and play inside our little hut. Parents probably wouldn’t let their kids do that today … too dangerous. Wait … kids could wear helmets and carry cell phones in the event of a cave-in.
I remember the storm drain at the end of our driveway on Hollybrook Road used to clog and flood half the side yard. Instead of suing the town for property damage my father built a frame around the area and the neighborhood skated there every day. Entire families enjoyed that skating rink. Go figure.
When I was five or six my parents joined a small private ski club. We were something like one of the first ten card-carrying members. We used to have to get up the mountain by riding inside the cab of a Snow Cat. The machine pulled a buckboard where we piled our skis. If it wasn’t too cold out the men rode up the mountain on the buckboard and the small handful of women and kids rode inside. The club had two Snow Cats that did double duty as the only means of transportation and also groomed the (three) slopes at night. And yes, back then our skis had cable bindings and we wore lace-up boots. There were plenty of times my fingers were so cold that I had to enlist the help of an adult to unlace my ski boots!
Since I’ve lived in Connecticut the winters have been miserable. We get snow that usually either turns wet and heavy while it’s snowing, or immediately after. Most storms are quickly followed by copious amounts of freezing rain or high(er) temperatures that thaw and then quickly refreeze. In a nutshell, the winters here stink, and they’ve taught me to really dislike and dread the season. But this winter has been different and despite the concerns about the ice dams on the roof (and subsequent, ongoing damage) it’s been kind of nice. I hope kids are getting out and having a blast in the snow like we did when we were growing up. Yes, the accumulation makes for a lot of repetitive work on a farm … I remember that all too well, too. But it’s only a few weeks out of the year. I think I’ll survive.
Jan 28, 2011 9:10 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 18mm, 1/80, f/16.
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5-6 IS
PS5: HDR toning.
Early Chores
I was so hoping the sky might give me a beautiful background this morning but alas, it was not to be. It was nice, but not spectacular. I’m kinda disappointed because today we have to clear the snow off the barn roof and it was the last day I could try to capture some early morning photos of the barn showing the amazing amount of snowfall we’ve had thus far. The clouds cooperated, but the colors just never came together at the right time. So I puttered around and took a handful of photos so I could practice various things, but since the light wasn’t all that great there wasn’t a really fantastic photo in the bunch. Oh well. At least I got my barn chores over and done with very early! And yes, I wish I’d framed this photo to eclipse the treetops, but (once again) I was so penned in that I couldn’t zoom out anymore or I would have caught a bunch of garbage in the foreground. Reminder to self: pay more attention to the finer details!
The barn is already being cleared off as I write this, making way for the next snow storm that is predicted to pass this way in a day or two. We’ve barely been able to keep up with the snow removal and as pretty as it looks, it’s become a real problem. I can no longer shovel things myself as it now requires throwing the snow up over my head. My shoulders and back are protesting and I can’t ignore this like I might have ten or fifteen years ago. Thank goodness for teenage boys who want to earn a few bucks! 😉
Jan 28, 2011. 8:13 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 24mm, 3 sec, 1/8 sec, 0.8 sec, f/18
Lens: Tamron 10-24mm
PS5: HDR conversion.
Got Snow?
If you don’t have enough snow I’d be more than happy to send you some of mine. Yesterday and last night we got another 20+ inches dumped on us. This time the snow is heavy and I’m pretty much out of places to put it and the back to lift it. The dogs are going stir crazy, the horses are pestering each other and my left hand is entirely numb from shoveling.
It could have been worse … we could have lost power too. I just hope the roof doesn’t ice up again and start leaking inside … we’ve certainly got all the right conditions for that to happen again!
Jan 27, 2011. 8:31 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 125, 22mm, 1/80 sec, f/11.
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS.
Lightroom 3: Minor contrast, brightness adj.
Back To Bashan
I messed around a bit more with the HDR. For me, it’s not so much the settings that are confounding, but the saving/resizing/converting into a format that I can post here. I’m so computer illiterate that I get far too bogged down in that end of things, more so than the actual processing. That kinda takes the fun out of it. It takes me ten or fifteen minutes to actually process the photo, then half a day to figure out how to save it and get it into a reproducible file format! There’s gotta be an easier way, I just haven’t figured it out yet!
But I digress. Above, another one of my attempts to tinker with HDR. Below is one of the original pictures that I merged, the lightest exposure of the series. I’ve tried to use the HDR program to bring out some of the finer details of this winter scene without making the picture look too surreal.
Jan 16, 2011. 5:40 PM EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 22mm, 1/15 sec, 1/60 sec, 1/30 sec, f/18
Lens: Tamron 10-24mm
PS5: HDR
Again
We’re having another one of these days again. Even the boys are getting tired of the snow. Well, they still enjoy eating it, but they’re tired of only having a small area to roam about. I catch them harassing each other quite a bit lately. Boredom, I suspect, just like kids who have been cooped up too long. I hear it’s supposed to dump a bunch of snow starting tomorrow and into Thursday. Sheesh! Enough already!
Jan 12, 2011. 3:09 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO:160, 70mm, 1/60 sec, f/8.0
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm.
Lightroom 3: minor contrast adj.
First Time
Well, this is my first attempt to try HDR. I’m not sure what I think except that it’s different and I have no clue what I’m doing! Like everything else, I’ll have to play with HDR more before I make any decisions. This is an old abandoned building that I shot last fall. Over the months I’ve taken a good number of bracketed photos because I wanted to try HDR when I had a little time. I took a few other bracketed shots during this shoot, so I’ll have to work on those and see how they turn out.
Oct 20, 2010. 9:22 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 400, 69mm, 1/160 sec, f/5.6
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS.
PS5: HDR conversion
Raindrops
I’m feeling a bit shut in. It’s bitterly cold out and I can hardly bear to even think about going outside. I finally understand why some folks migrate to warmer climates in the winter and if I could, I’d do it myself. I hate being trapped inside day after day, struggling to keep warm. And it’s only Jan. This is absurd. Sometimes I’ll look at pictures of warmer places or summer flowers and it will almost chase the blues away. Almost.
Sept 16, 2010. 9:33 AM. EST.
Canon ESO 7D
ISO: 200, 90mm, 1/1600 sec at f/2.8
Lens: Tamron 90mm Macro.
Lightroom3: Minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Sky View
One of my favorite photos from the fall. The color in the sky was just perfect on this beautiful day.
October 7, 2010. 5:58 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 200, 24mm 1/125 sec, f/9.0
Lens: Tamron SP 10-24mm 3.5-4.5 Di II.
Sunshine
I miss Tia.
Some days I miss Tia more than others and this has been one of those days. I don’t know why and from what I can tell, there’s no rhyme or reason to the grief process. I have few regrets except one: I was just getting started in photography in the months before Tia died and I regret that I don’t have very many pictures of her. I’d planned to take a bunch of pictures this spring, after she shed out her fuzzy winter coat, but it was not to be. So I cherish every picture of her that I have, even if they’re not the best I might have taken.
Though most would be tempted to call her a flea-bitten or bloody shoulder gray, Tia was always so beautiful to me. When she was young she had gorgeous, coal black points and stockings. Her dapples stood out strongly and she had a witches mane and tail … another term for salt and pepper. As she aged she whitened considerably and lost her black markings. Then, about five or six years ago her long, full mane and tail began to thin out and lose their contrasting black strands too. Tia was petite, but refined and athletic. She had an agile, floaty way of moving and only days before she died I saw her take a kick at Bullet that had her back foot clearing his 15.3 shoulder by over a foot. Tia was congenial, but she didn’t suffer fools … human or equine, gladly. She ruled the paddock with an iron hoof and I honestly think the two geldings are a bit lost without Tia to push them around.
Tia was probably the least affectionate horse I’ve ever had and it took her a long time to begin to show any kind of attachment or bond to me. She wasn’t unfriendly, she was just very aloof and not inclined to approach unless there was something (hopefully edible) in it for her. But slowly over time, I began to understand and read her. A shove of her head, a rub, a fleet but gentle nuzzle. Her love language was subtle and easy to misinterpret, but it was there. And so began our intimate understanding of one another and our private bond. Tia was always the last to approach anyone, but she would seek my attention and affection in her own subdued way. I learned to appreciate that about her, knowing that she didn’t put much value in human companionship. I would like to think I was an exception.
I don’t have words to describe the emptiness I feel since Tia died. It’s not a gut-wrenching, primal pain anymore, but it’s more like a nagging ache that comes and goes at various times of the day. Our weather has been so bad since she died that part of me is relieved she’s gone. I can’t begin to fathom the stress I would be feeling if she was suffering in this miserable weather. But the selfish part of me still wishes she was here. When I see pictures of Tia the pain is palpable and raw, yet because I yearn to see her again I force myself to look.
I miss you Tee-toes. The boys miss you. We hope the sun is warm and the grass is green now, but we still miss you all the same.
Dec. 30, 2010. 3:50 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 50mm, 1/125 sec, f/9.0
Lens: EF 50mm F/1.4 USM
Lightroom 3: Minor contrast/brightness adj.
Good Stuff
It’s nice to know horses are capable of finding the good in just about any situation. Gotta lay down in a big snowbank just to take the load off your feet? Then you may as well enjoy a taste of the white stuff while you’re down there! I love that about animals: life gives them lemons and they make lemonade. Well, not literally. Hypothetically speaking. I’ll try to remember that now that my roof has leaked for two days into my brand new kitchen renovation that I waited twenty years to do. There’s a silver lining in that somewhere …. I’m sure of it! 🙂
Winter Storage
I was searching for a clearing to shoot the sunset at Bashan Lake when I spied these snow covered boats through the trees. I couldn’t get any closer and I was penned in on both sides, but I decided to try a couple of shots anyway. Most of the homes on this lake are seasonal and are closed up for the winter, but I didn’t feel comfortable trespassing on private property. I might get a better shot later in the winter if some of the snow that’s blocking the way melts, but for now this will have to do.
Jan 16, 2011. 5:12 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 135mm, 1/13 sec, f/22.
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm 3.5-5.6 IS
Lightroom 3: Brightness/contrast adj.
River Valley
I live in an area fondly referred to as the Connecticut River Valley. I never really thought about that very much until I started taking pictures. In a nutshell, it means that no matter where I go, the sun is going to rise or set behind a ridge. And that means the sunrise or sunset is always going to be better in a spot where I’m not. I don’t live in a place that’s surrounded by flat, wide, expansive vistas. Instead, the landscape is craggy and littered with power lines and dense woods. It’s enormously frustrating to know there’s a gorgeous sunrise or sunset forming on the horizon, but you’re powerless to get someplace where you can shoot it.
This picture was taken at Bashan Lake. The opposite side of the lake has provided some stunning sunrise photos, but on this side of the lake the road is slightly higher. I thought it would be a good place to capture a sunset. Wrong. In many places houses, trees or power lines blocked the view and when I finally found a suitable place to shoot, the sun dropped like a rock behind the opposite ridge. I caught some nice shadows and a bit of orange glow, but I could tell that was the end of the show. Normally, I follow the golden rule that you “don’t pack until it’s black,” but it was very cold and I had a few errands to run. I loaded up my car, drove out the narrow lake road and proceeded back toward my neighborhood, all the while glancing over my left shoulder at the bright crimson glow just over the horizon. My car finally crested a steep rise and I got a five second view of a stunning sunset. I groaned.
Countless mornings I’ve sat right in my office and watched the most gorgeous sunrises, but I know from past experience that, short of pointing my camera directly at the sky, I don’t have a chance in hell of capturing them. I’ve heard it said that the best photos are usually taken just a ten or fifteen minute drive from your own house, but I’m thinking maybe that rule doesn’t apply here, or at least not if you’re hoping to capture a nice landscape. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this. Either I’m going to have to get up a lot earlier and drive a lot farther to get the kind of sunrises I want, or I’m going to have to learn to deal with the frustration of being disappointed a lot.
Jan. 16, 2011. 5:27 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 19mm, 1/15 sec, f/22.
Lens: Tamron SP 10-24mm F/3.5-4.5 DiII
Lightroom 3: Minor brightness, contrast adjustment.
Reflections
I read somewhere that it’s a good idea to go back through your photo catalogs every now and then. It never hurts to review your progress. And who knows …. you just might find a few gems buried in your files. I remember when I took the pictures on this page. It was a blustery fall day and I was trying very hard to focus on a feather that was caught on the lower limb of a small shrub. I didn’t have a tripod and there was far too much wind to get a really good picture. But I didn’t know that then, and I was determined to come away with something. I struggled for the better part of an hour, until my upper back was exhausted from crouching in an awkward position and my arms were trembling from supporting the heavy lens. I ran inside several times to download my pictures, but each time I found fault with my results. I went back outside again and again, to try to capture that “perfect” shot.
I hope I’ve learned a bit more since then, but I honestly think some of my best photos were taken when I didn’t know the first thing about photography. I didn’t over think things, I just went with the flow. Sometimes I’ll look at an older picture and wince. I’ll say to myself, “I should have done X, Y, Z …” But other times I’m pleasantly surprised by what I managed to capture in spite of my limited knowledge and experience.
These pictures are not “perfect” nor do they need to be. Every time I look at them I’m reminded that enthusiasm, excitement and a hefty dose of determination can create an acceptable and memorable result.
Top Photo:
September 14, 2010. 10:14 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 250, 169mm, 1/1250 sec, f/2.8
Lens” Tamron 70-200mm
iPhoto Edit: Crop, minor brightness/contrast adjustment
Bottom Photo:
September 14, 2010. 10:55 AM. EST
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 250, 70mm, 1/320 sec, f/2.8.
iPhoto Edit: Crop, minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Abandoned
Well, it looks and feels more like winter than it has the last few years. Today it was five below (zero) at 7 AM, which means the chances of my going out to shoot a sunrise is rather unlikely. There was a gorgeous sky this morning, but I don’t have what it takes to be out in this kind of weather. Maybe ten or fifteen years ago, but not anymore. Yes all you exercise fanatics, keep pounding away at the gym and in a decade or so you too, can be crippled! Yeah. Your personal trainer won’t tell you that when you sign up, but it’s true. Of course, you don’t think that will happen to you, but it can. And (often) does. Hindsight is 20/20!
But I digress …
After I took this picture I had to dig out the extension ladder (Literally: it was buried under two feet of snow!) and start clearing snow off the edge of the roof. The gutters are frozen solid and melting snow can refreeze and start to back up under the shingles. This can result in a huge mess, forcing water to leak into the house behind the soffit. Mind you, I’ve never had this happen, but I know people who have. I recently did an extensive kitchen remodel, so I’m a bit freaked out if there’s even a remote possibility of water damage. Ironically, as I went about this chore I was bemoaning the fact that I was having a tough time finding the perfect place to shoot a sunset. Imagine my surprise then, when I discovered that the best location might be right on our roof!
Jan 14, 2011. 3:47 PM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 200, 118mm, 1/320 sec, f/3.5
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm
Lightroom 3: Minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Hobby
It’s a really good thing I’m not trying to make a living as a photographer because I stink at knowing what conditions produce the effects I most want to shoot. Yesterday (when this picture was taken) I decided to get outside no matter what the early morning sky might do. We’d just had the snow storm to beat all storms and I was dying to shoot something … anything. Fortunately, the sky gave me a little color. Not much, but a touch of contrast at first light.
This morning it’s brutally cold …. as in single-digit cold. Given that I don’t do well with extreme temperatures, I decided to sit this one out. Besides, (I reasoned) I thought today’s sunrise would be comparatively similar to yesterday, which wasn’t anything to write home about. So I was sitting here tweaking my blog entry for today when I glanced out my office window and saw the entire horizon was a deep crimson red. For crying out loud …. will I ever get anything right???
I know the first “rule” of landscape photography is Be There. For some reason I still manage to screw that up more often than I care to admit. And since I tend to overlook the first rule, I’ve had plenty of “just missed it” moments to know better than to try to race outside and capture a shot that’s happening RIGHT NOW! However, being the fool that I am I always seem to want to gave that the old college try. Tell you what. Next time you think you have all the time in the world, try beating a New England sunrise. My camera and tripod were all set up and ready to go. All I had to do was throw on two layers of clothes and race out the back door. Five minutes, tops, but by the time I got out there the entire show was done.
Yup, I don’t call this a hobby for nothin’!
Jan 13, 2011. 7:57 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO:160, 18mm, 3.2 sec, f/22.
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS
Lightroom 3: Brightness/contrast adj.
PS5: Warming filter
Snowed In
This time they weren’t kidding and so the weather Gods have been redeemed. I bet meteorologists all over the north east are gloating, and rightly so. How many times have we bemoaned the “predicted” storms that never materialized or suffered the panic and mayham that accompanies the hype of a pending storm? But this time they nailed it and for the most part we northerners were ready.
I probably don’t need to tell you how much extra work it creates when a storm dumps a boatload of white stuff on a farm. So for anyone who is bemoaning having to shovel the driveway, multiply that by ten. Of course, we have the big equipment, but it’s still a lot of work. We had to put the horses in to clear around the barn and while they were in I shot a couple of frames. Normally, they’re always out and they didn’t much cotton to being shut in. I think that shows on their expression a bit! The top picture wasn’t the sharpest, but I decided to go with it anyway. I love how the smoke is rising from Bullet’s breath and billows around him the light. It looks like I caught him in a pensive moment, which is saying a lot for a horse who really isn’t all that ‘deep.’ 😉
Below, Beanie watches the paddock and wishes he was out there in the middle of things. He so hates being closed in. I got a handful of nice pictures from this session, which pleases me because I’m really trying to improve my equine photography skills. I’ll post more of ‘the boys’ in the next few days to come!
Top Photo:
Jan 12, 2011. 3:08 PM. EST.
ISO: 160, 75mm, 1/60 sec, f/2.8.
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm.
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Bottom Photo:
ISO: 160, 81mm, 1/250 sec., f/5.6.
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Stormy Weather
All puffed up and no place to go!
I’m going to try to get out and take some pictures. We’ve gotten about 22″ of snow since 1 AM, which makes me wish I had snowshoes! I should have gotten a pair last year when they went on sale at the end of the season. (Note to self: remember that in March when they go on sale again!) It’s going to be rough going with so much snow on the ground. Even the birds are struggling!
Jan 12, 2011. 11:43 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 200, 200mm, 1/160 sec, f/5.0
Lens: Tamron 70-200mm
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor contrast/brightness adjustment
Lake Sunrise
I’ve been thinking I should go back to this spot and try to get some pictures now that the seasons have changed … then I remember how cold I was the morning I took this photo. Big storm coming in later tonight so I guess I won’t get there first thing tomorrow. Might try to do it soon though.
Oct 22, 2010. 6:46 AM. EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 400, 21mm, 1/5 sec. f/13
Lens: Canon EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS
Catching Rays
This guy loves nothing more than to take a nice sunbath. He’ll lay flat out on his side for the longest time, making passers-by wonder if he’s dead or alive. But he’s just really good at conserving his energy. Here, his face is still wet from laying flat-out in the snow. When I took this photo he was still basking in the sun … no urge to get up on my account!
Dec. 30, 2010. 3:48 EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 50mm, 1/125 sec, f/9.0
Lens: Canon EF-50mm f/1.4 USM
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor contrast/brightness adjustment.
Emerald City
I can’t wait for spring. Partly because I’m not fond of the cold, but mostly because the spring will give me lots of opportunity to play with light. I caught these early cone flowers just as the sun started to hit them. It was relatively late in the morning for picture-taking, but because most of my gardens get only spotty sun at best, I was able to take this photo just as the new shoots were starting to reach for the sun. The green cast is totally untouched and the minute I saw this picture it made me think of Emerald City. This was the 57th picture I took when my camera was new, before I knew anything about ISO, f-stop or lenses. It makes me wonder how I even managed to capture this?
June 24, 2010. 9:39 EST.
Canon EOS 7D
ISO: 100, 85mm, 1/1000 sec, f/2.0
Lens: Canon EF 85mm USM
Lightroom 3: Crop, minor brightness/contrast adjustment.
Partners
When I take pictures of dogs doing things with their human partners I prefer to use a non-invasive approach, meaning, I usually try to photograph the activity and subjects with as little interference as possible. I’ve found that if I’m patient and a little lucky I almost always end up with some nice pictures.
One day last fall I went to a local field trial in hopes of getting some pictures of hunting dogs doing their thing with their human partners. Unfortunately, when I arrived I was sorry to learn that all the real action was going to take place in an area that was not visible to spectators. Having gotten up early on this blustery, cold Sunday morning, I was determined not to go home empty handed. I stuck around for an hour and took pictures of several dogs who waited excitedly for their turn in the field with their Master.
When my fingers were finally numb with cold I gathered my things, walked to my car and proceeded to slowly drive down the bumpy lane that led to the highway. I hadn’t gone far when, off in the distance, I saw a man walking up the lane with his Lab. I quickly pulled off the lane, grabbed my camera and jumped out of the car. As the man and dog continued to approach I had to make some quick decisions about how I wanted to shoot the scene. The wind was howling and brush partially obscured my view, but the man was in so engrossed in his communion with the dog that he didn’t know I was there. I worry sometimes, about shooting people who are unaware of my presence, but I didn’t want to spoil the intimacy of the moment by stepping into the lane.
I fired off five frames before the man looked up and saw me standing off to one side. He smiled and simply continued to advance. In the picture above, the dog was anxiously testing the air for scent. Seconds later, the dog had swung around as if to say to his Master, “Hurry! Hurry! Let’s go faster!” (Below) They continued to walk at a leisurely pace as the man spoke quietly to his dog, probably giving some encouragement or a few last minute instructions. When they finally passed me the man looked up and we smiled to each other. I mouthed “Good luck!” to which he nodded, and walked on.
When I got home and looked the series of pictures I was very pleased. I grew up with hunting dogs and I understand how excited these dogs get at the prospect of doing what they were created to do. The humans who get to share that experience with their dog must teach them to work in consort with their Master and usually develop a very special bond with the dog. It was evident to me that the man in my pictures had that special bond with his dog and I felt honored to have captured it.
CurTales 
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