From the category archives:

Encountering the Wild

Well, it’s not Herzog. One would have a hard time nailing the Herzog accent, though as my family will tell you I try rather too frequently.

Some of the lines quite wonderfully recall Herzog’s philosophies.

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While Yellowstone is posting record numbers of visitors this year, National Parks as a whole have seen attendance slide in recent years.

In hopes of reversing the trend and re-introducing folks to our wonderful public lands heritage, Interior Secretary Ken Salazar announced back in June that the Department would waive entrance fees nationwide to all parks on three prime summer weekends. This is no small offer as park entrance fees have really climbed in past years. Nearby Yellowstone sits at $25 for entrance (that does give in and out privileges for 7 days).

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Sandhill Cranes near Nye Montana

Crane Songs

June 15, 2009

I sit alone on the banks of the Stillwater, watching the sky deepen to purple and begin to darken slowly. The mountains have given up their captive hold on the winter’s snow and the disappearing whiteness of the mountaintops races past me, carrying massive logs, sweeping away a winter’s worth of deadfall downstream to the Yellowstone and beyond.
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One of the best times of the year to be in Montana. The heat and crowds haven’t descended. The world is green. The mountains are starting to give up their captive snows. Just goofing off with my camera (and the girls) on a hike in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness.

in HD on Vimeo.or a better version in HD (quicktime) I didn’t realize until recently that Vimeo doesn’t properly display HD video content. So, it’s choppy here. Use the Quicktime for better experience.

I shot this using my Canon 5d Mark2 SLR camera which happens to shoot video. The first shot is from the front porch. The rest are from the trail.

God Bless our wild public lands. Perhaps the greatest legacy our country has.

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Such an Uncomfortable Place to Hang Your Ass

May 27, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
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When we were kids growing up in the Bible Belt, my mother used to threaten to wash our mouths out with soap if we told dirty jokes. Like a lot of kids in that era, in that place, my older brother and I used to try and juke her out by using off-color biblical references that involved the hint of slightly naughty words.

my brother: “Hey punk, who was the the most flexible man in the Bible?”

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A Small Natural Grave

May 25, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
Flicker Egg on the banks of the Stillwater River

This Northern Flicker egg dropped at our feet while we goofing around with intertubes on the Stillwater River this Memorial Day. It seemed a fitting natural elegiac moment for a day given to remembering the dead.

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Wolf Kill, Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness (Winter Count #2)

May 5, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
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He wasn’t very large by bull moose standards, with a fairly small set of antlers. He didn’t look healthy in fact. He was standing ankle-deep in the river, watching us, not moving, almost unsteady on his legs. Something about the way he was standing didn’t seem “right.” Of all the animals I do not want to tangle with, a bull moose, particularly a sick one, ranks near the top.

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Sheep Shearing Video

April 8, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
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Ewe 17a gets a haircut Fromberg, Montana style.

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The Darkness is Light Enough

March 29, 2009 in  American Metaphors
Earth Hour (image courtesy of EarthHour.org and used under the Creative Commons License)

Last night, like many around the globe, we shut off our lights in solidarity with Earth Hour. Now, it’s easy for me to get really cynical about these kinds of things. The event is, after all, a symbolic and licensed subversion which rather than producing the effect it desires, produces only a spectacle of that effect without any meaningful change (which is a kind of fascism, but I digress…

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Winter Count: Sioux Charley Trail, Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness

March 7, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
Sioux Charley Trail

4:30 A.M. Pitch black. Deep winter. Nothing but darkness and cold. Jack Ballard and I are making time up the trail before first light for an end-of-the-season deer hunt. The light from my headlamp swings back and forth, making me dizzy. I turn it off and move silently up the canyon. We’re aiming for a spot about three miles up and across the river…Out of nowhere it hits us — a howl comes straight out of the darkness.

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The Shear Delight of Wool

March 1, 2009 in  Encountering the Wild
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17a, a pregnant Romney, ambles into the chute and stops. Her fleece corkscrews out from her body sending out shoots of thick wool in all directions. Grace, my ten-year old daughter, buries her hands deep into the wooly fleece and smiles. She runs off to find Anabel Lombard, the ewe’s owner, to have her to hold 17a’s fleece once it’s sheared. Grace has never chosen a fleece before. She goes with her intuition; with the way her hands feel buried into the ewe’s wool, with the way the ewe stops, tilts her head back, and looks up at this girl leaning over the railing, as though asking to be chosen.

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