Sunny 16 Camera Club

This article, which was written maybe ten years ago, is not actually a photography related article, but it services to define why I spend as much time as I do outdoors pursuing those photographic moments. For various reasons, recent years have reduced the number of days afield to a mere trickle compared to earlier years. Maybe that is why I enjoy writing about those days so much as those memories and words serve as not only a reminder of things past, but as a reminder of a personal identity that is too often neglected. Photography has become an important substitute for those older days afield spent hunting and fishing. The two pastimes are connected for without the hunting and fishing days of my youth, the reason I pursue outdoor photography with such a passion would probably not exist. The descriptions written within these words also serve to reveal the types of things I search for when I seek out those photographic moments. I hope you enjoy this old story of adventure and renewal.

Nothing Better to Do

There resides in the heart of every hunter a natural wisdom to seek out those things that takes us back to our essentials. This wisdom awakens when the cool days of October arouse one from the slumber of a long summer’s sleep. Upon that awakening a hunter’s desires are aimed toward the fields and lairs of the backcountry where wild game roams. It is a calling developed over time, through trial and error and experience, that one day evolves into a conscious state becoming less of a desire, and more of a need as an intimate part of our being.

When October finally arrives and the cross timbers of Oklahoma change from their adornment of forest green to the browns, reds and yellows of fall, I am called to the hills of Southeastern Oklahoma less to pursue the elusive White Tailed Deer, but more to purge the influence of modern society by stepping back in time. The muzzleloader season provides a good throw back to a simpler day and serves to blend our connection with the past to the reality of today. Within the Sooner State, there are few places better suited for this purpose than these ancient, pine covered hills.

To rise early before daylight invades the darkness finds one clearing the fog from the eyes. In the stillness of the morning I stand outside loading the last of my gear before the noise of the city gains momentum. In the pre-dawn quiet, I hear a flight of ducks wing overhead unseen, bidding me a fair journey. There is a change in the air, and the musty, humid stirrings of summer are replaced with the aroma of fall. After months of hunting inactivity and in need of a lifestyle modification, I finally begin the healing process within the first few miles of the long awaited drive.

To leave the city and all its forest of houses and trails of concrete streets, the eventual transformation of terrain brings the delicate scent of fresh earth and pine to trigger images from the days of bygone years. Within those images are faces and moments frozen in memory: The crackle of a campfire and the sound of the wind filtering through pine covered hills. The melody of a creek and the cry of the coyote at dusk, the sight of a magnificent buck locked with keen eyes onto your every movement, then his bolt and snort through a tangle of woods. Remembering moments such as these is like savoring each as a delicacy fit for royalty. Here, you enter a new kingdom away from that other world, a kingdom seemingly made for you. Even so, you are not its master, nor its ruler, only its servant, for in order to take from it, you must give of yourself to its heritage.

I continue to drive hypnotized by the hum of tires, wind against the canvas top of my Jeep, and the rhythmic undulations of wiper blades clearing the rain off the windshield. In time I enter the land of my ancestors where I grew and lived and learned to love the outdoors. It feels good to return to the home of my youth. I climb higher into the realm where the clouds hover on the tops of the rugged pine covered Kiamichi Mountains. The muting effect of the mist and haze brighten the red sumac leaves and the kaleidoscope of colors that have already invaded these heights. The road begins a series of curves and drops, climbing ever higher, curves and rolls again and again over countless rises until finally I reach the crest and began to descend out of the mist until the form of Clancy’s Country Store filters through the rain.

Its rock façade darkened and streaked by the moisture that drips from the tin roof stand as a sentinel in the heart of these hills. I stop on the edge of town, a mere wide spot in the road, listening to the smooth rumble of my engine as it breathes the cool mountain air, and view this unencumbered corner of the world with a certain degree of envy. Hugging low to the ground a blanket of smoke from various chimneys settles and blends with the mist. An old country dog raises his head for a look while sitting under the protection of a sagging porch, wags his tail, unchained, unfenced, then lays his head down again, more concerned with resting than who belongs to this intrusion. All these things are common sights for this old Kiamichi community, for the local people, and though much of my own history is anchored around and near these hills, I am but a returning visitor. Honobia is its name. No self respecting resident would ever pronounce it like it’s spelled…locals pronounce it using ‘Oklahomeeze’ as Ho-Nubby. Even so, however you pronounce it, the image becomes a vision taken from the very soul of the American experience and the heritage of Oklahoma’s backcountry.

I turn off the first exit and head down the rain soaked, washboard dirt road. There will be no dust today. I slow down as I cross the first low-water bridge. Honobia Creek is lower than expected in spite of the much needed rain. The summer was dry. There are two more crossings to negotiate. Boulders protrude above the now slackened pools rippled by individual drops of rain, with red and yellow leaves adrift on the surface, a sure sign of the first vestiges of fall. It is a difficult creek to wade and fish as the large rocks are slippery and cumbersome to navigate. It can be worth the effort though. My mind is elsewhere on this trip, filled with images of trophy deer that stalk these hills.

Finally, there is the last turn off, and I climb even higher into the hills, my tires slipping on the loose dirt, and ascend one final time past clear cuts, new growth, and standing timber to the top of the ridge, exit at a long forgotten logging road, and catch the first sight of where deer camp will once again be set. The pungent odor of weeds is heavy and they are thicker now having grown since my last intrusion, but the old circle of rocks that is the campfire is still there. The rain continues to drip and the mist floats easily amongst the backdrop of tall pines and rolling hills. A muffled thunder rumbles from the dark low clouds and reverberates across the ravines and a haze floats softly against the upper reaches of the slopes like soft spider webs drifting on the wind.

On days like these, the woods take on a magical look, and with the breeze, a torrent of liquid jewels tumble through the trees adding their song to nature’s symphony. I set camp with the refined choreography of past experience waiting now for tomorrow’s arrival of my good friend and hunting partner. By the end of our hunt, the neatly arranged camp will most assuredly take on that cluttered look. A few ducks wing low overhead their wings whistling, greeting me a Kiamichi Mountain welcome. I raise my arms as though taking aim, then, watch them circle and disappear over the far ridge.

It is near midday now and time for scouting. The rain still falls sporadically, but I don’t mind. Tomorrows opening day…maybe this evening I can get in one hunt using my bow if the rain slows down. It feels good to stretch stiff legs. Finding and examining the first rub in the familiar draw where ‘Mr. Big’ was shot a few years before, raises my expectations and senses to a higher level. It is an average size rub where the bark on a young sapling was rubbed jaggedly clean, but there are several scattered in a pattern running parallel with the lay of the land near the top of the ravine indicating a nice buck frequents this draw. There’s a scrape not far from the top just inside the tree line, where the first pre-rut activity indicates the bucks are becoming restless. This is a good location, familiar I am with its character…deep woods with a run off creek at the bottom and converging draws splattered with acorns across the hump near the breastwork of rocks on the east side. Both opposing ridges are studded with tall pines and accented with hardwoods and boulders. I will begin my hunt once again here and stake out a good place for a stand not far from where I last hunted.

My lungs and legs burn as I climb out of the draw…residue from too easy living…it feels good and does one a favor to burn those extra calories. After returning to camp, I sit under a makeshift canopy in mid-afternoon and listen to the rain tap against it as the material undulate with each rising breeze. The fresh scent of rain helps to clear my head and soothe a tired mind. For the first time in many months I begin to truly unwind and relax. I wonder, will the rain will hold or clear? It doesn’t matter. I…am finally here and have re-discovered the wealth earned from time spent outdoors.

With only five days to recover from what is lost through the year this allotment of time is not nearly enough, but I dare not go without, for it brings into focus the most important things in life. Time away from the pressures of making a living is too precious a reward to waste. As I stand isolated again in these hills a sensory wealthy man, it is a comfort to see the full spectrum of time allocated to this endeavor spread out unmapped, uncharted, waiting for the choreograph of events to decide the outcome. Quickly, my allotted time will vanish like the whiffs of campfire smoke and misty fog that filters across these green hills, and I must return to that other impoverished world… longing to remain. Until then, I will savor each moment, the fireside stories of past exploits and the dreams of future ones to come. I look upon this time with reverent favor and from it I return with more than tangible trophies, but trophies garnered by favorite memories, which after all are the most important. You see, the making of a memory such as this is, well…I can think of nothing better I’d rather do.

Finally got a weekend out of my workplace, first in a about a month. It felt so good to not have to go in that place to the smell of toluene and silicone in the air, and to just be out in nature. Someday I will get things organized and be able to spend more time doing the things I love and not the things I do only to get the bills paid.

The leaves are changing now but still a couple of weeks from peak. Halloween weekend should be the one with the most color. Maybe I’ll be able to get out and take a few shots during this all to short spectacle.

These shots were taken yesterday in a beautiful place that I found only last year. I thought I knew every nook and cranny in western Allen County, but this one had managed to elude me all this time. This road simply has a sign that says “Goodnight Hollow” and doesn’t have any homes on it. It leads to a shallow (most of the time) water ford that has a parking spot and a swimming hole on the far side. Such a nice spot…..

Last Saturday, I braved off and on rain showers and lugged my camera, big lens, and tripod down to Bowling Green’s International Festival on the Circus Square. There were lots of people milling around and at first I found it difficult to focus in on what or who to photograph. The first few shots were rather awkward attempts and I almost took my camera back to the Jeep because the results were disappointing and it was beginning to rain.
I hung in there though, and continued to lug that heavy contraption around eventually settling down near the fountain area where a number of kids were having a big time playing in the water. That’s when it got fun. I simply waited on the kids to do what they do naturally and took some of the best shots of the day. Very few people from what I could tell were taking time to photograph the kids, but soon after I started taking some…more and more people started doing the same thing.
I intended to stay for only an hour or two, but ended up staying all afternoon dodging the rain showers and relying on the two Walmart bags I carried to keep my camera gear dry…they actually worked pretty well.
The colorful costumes and performances became newer targets to photograph and I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon milling around and getting in some very good people photography practice. Two or three of the shots turned out pretty good and I also discovered that I needed to turn off the image stabilization when using a tripod. I noticed several of my images being particularly sharper than normal and it was because I was shooting from the tripod and had inadvertently turned off the IS on the camera.
Anyway…it was great fun and turned out to be a target rich environment.

This year I began to explore in more detail another area of photography that I had not explored in depth before; Wildlife Photography. I discovered, not surprisingly, that it is much more difficult that one might think. Having visited other photographer’s websites to gain a sense of what their ‘wildlife’ images look like, I kept wondering how they managed to get so close to some of these critters. I will often see owls or birds of prey, but usually they are way off and even with a 500mm lens, too far to do much good.

I’ve come to the conclusion that luck plays a big part of it. Recently, I arrived at Shanty Hollow Lake well before daylight and paddled my canoe to the upper end hoping to catch the sun rising over the lake. I was greeted with one fine show as a result. After the initial morning program played out, I continued with my outing by doing some fishing eventually drifting into one of the several large coves on the north end of the lake. It wasn’t long, and was still early, when I saw a green heron fly across the lake and set down behind some cover on the far bank about 30 yards or so from where I was fishing.

Green herons are interesting birds…rather small about the size of a crow…and have the ability to extend their neck about double the sitting length. They prowl along shallow waters and bend way over leaning close to the water until an unsuspecting minnow swims too close and…zap…the minnow now becomes a meal.

I extracted my camera from the dry box, and paddled slowly in the direction where the heron prowled the bank. I couldn’t see him at first, but by the time I closed within 10 yards I spotted him under some brushy cover. I began to snap away grateful for my good fortune to have gotten so close to a usually wary bird. For the next thirty-five or forty minutes, I followed the heron along the bank as he went in search of a meal. He never seemed too concerned until I closed to within 5 or 6 yards at which time he began to show some signs of alarm by raising the hackle on his head and squawking loudly…but he still didn’t fly off allowing me another few minutes of close observation. Eventually, he simply jumped up and off he went and I figured the photo shoot was over so I went back to fishing.

About 10 minutes later he flew back in and sat down a little further up the bank close to a partially submerged log. Again, I extracted my camera and made my way over to where he was. To my surprise and delight, he allowed me to close again to within about 5 yards. This time, he worked his way down the submerged log and offered the best photo op of the morning.

The water was a dark green with natural cover in the background. The heron was standing in full sunlight his image perfectly reflected in the water underneath him. I fired off several shots thinking that something special just might have happened. It wasn’t until later after I downloaded the images did I discover just how special. The green heron’s portrait is one of the best wildlife images I’ve ever taken…only because he allowed me close access. Luck is simply being able to take advantage of a good opportunity when it arrives.

You can view a few of the images under the sunny16 gallery section under Destinations/Shanty Hollow 2009

How often do find yourself running around taking pictures of this or that trying to get everything you can all at once? Yeah, I know…me too. One thing I’ve learned over the years is to simply slow down when I am out. Often I will have an idea of what I want to take, but sometimes it just doesn’t work…what I wanted to capture just doesn’t materialize. Sometimes when I head out I really don’t an agenda and just hope for the best. What I have discovered is that by slowing down and allowing the place to work, more often than not photo opportunities begin to materialize. There have been times when I’ve simply set the camera aside and found a shade tree to sit under and did just that…sit, sometimes for hours enjoying just being out. While I’m sitting there, I begin to notice things that become good photo ops…in many cases I notic things that have potential and deserve another look on another day, another time. Slowing down helps to jump start that visualization process and wonderful images often materialize as a result. So when you’re out and about and the moment just isn’t working for you…take time to slow down…sit a spell and wait. Nature will often begin to present itself to you in ways you might have missed otherwise.

I’ve had numerous people ask me why I ‘waste’ so much vacation time running up to the Tallgrass Prairie. Well…there really is no answer that would satisfy everyone who ever asked me that. The best answer that I can give is simply this: By taking time to slow down and leaving behind all other distractions..even if for just a few hours…I begin to hear the song that the prairie sings as I stand on a high point and survey the rolling landscape. To some, the prairie is just a big pasture full of weeds. To me, well I see a grand vista that has a life story to tell and a life song to sing. Sit long enough and both of those become clear and distinct. Photographing this wonderous sight is secondary to simply being there and experiencing it. No photo or series of photographs have yet truly capture what I feel and experience while there…that’s why I keep returning, because I know there is that one defining moment…that one image that awaits me…I just have to find and be ready to capture it.  Thanx for enduring these long winded blogs…those of you have might have taken the time to read them…I hope they not only entertained but maybe inspired you to find your own special prized location to photograph…

Placing yourself at that point of greatest potential often means you lose sleep in the process. It also means that you must adapt to the conditions you are given. I have this image of a prairie morning in my mind that I want to capture that require certain conditions to exist. So far, Mother Nature has not cooperated, but the weather report indicated that conditions on the Prairie just might provide for that special moment I’ve been waiting for. So, I set the alarm for 3:50am and left at 4:05am full of anticipation.

An hour later as I was driving through Barnsdall I was beginning to wonder what school the weatherman went to who made the forecast. A massive thunderstorm was brewing. I had not yet caught up with it, but I was sure to do so. I coasted to a stop at the first stop sign in Barnsdall, set my blinker, and made a left turn. A moment later those ominous flahing lights we all dread began flashing behind me. My first thought was what could I have possibly done…my next thought was..I had done nothing wrong…stayed within the speed limit coming thru town, made a full stop at the stop sign, used my blinker.

5:00am in Barnsdall…well you must see it to understand. No life at all stirred. The only two people out and about were myself and the sheriff who pulled me over.

His excuse for pulling me over was that I had not made a full stop at the stop sign…(bull..I know I did) and that my brights were on as I was driving thru town…all three blocks of it. Well…he was right about that, but since when is it illegal to do that when there are no other cars to deal with?

I bit my tongue…and provided all the usual identification stuff. As I waited for the sheriff to return my license, I realized the only possible reason he pulled me over was that he saw my Kentucky license plates and was wondering what I was doing driving thru his fair city at 5:00am. As it turned out, he just gave me a warning, and I went on my way.

When I arrived at the Tallgrass Preserve, the morning thunderstorm was in full swing minus the rain. Lightning was illuminating the sky and the wind was torquing around 35-40 mph.  If you’ve never experienced a prairie thunderstorm…well…you’ve missed a terrifiying treat.

I managed to capture one pretty good lightning photo, but had to wait out the storm and better light for anything else. It turned out to be a pretty good day.

The storm blew itself out and passed on the northeast and the skies began to clear behind it. The wind died somewhat down to a steady 15 mph, but it was a cool wind.

As the morning progressed I found myself surrounded by 2000 buffalo (bison) and discovered that the prairie was in full bloom with more color than I have ever seen. Not sure how many images I shot, but I shot all morning.

Later that morning, I hiked over to Cone Flower Hill and spent a good hour and half shooting. From that location, I have a magnificent 360 degree view of the prairie, and the prairie blooms were spread across acres and acres of rolling landscape.

The sky was begining to build some high whispy clouds that really added a tremendous boost to the blue sky. I rushed around here and there until I finally said to myself, I need to just slow down…sit and enjoy the prairie sounds.

For the next 30 minutes I did just that…sat on a rocky outcropping and simply listened to the wind whipping thru the grass and the birds singing.

I needed to be back in Tulsa by mid-afternoon or I would have remained right there the rest of the day…but alas, I reluctantly made the hike back to my car and slowly headed back to T-Town…stopping several times to photograph this or that until I finally left the preserve.

Although I was unable to cpature that one illusive defining image that I know is there…I did manage to get some great material…some of the best from that area I’ve ever done.

It always amazes me how photography is so sensitive to time…a matter of a few minutes and in some cases a few seconds can make the difference between getting the shot or missing it. That’s what happened to me this morning. I left Tulsa at 4:45 am so Icould be on location at the Tallgrass Prairie by sunup. The sky was broken and as I got closer to the preserve it started to look like it was going to be a spectacular morning. It was…unfortunately I was about 15 minutes too late to capture the best of it…at least at the location I wanted to capture it. I did manage to snap a couple quick shots before I lost the moment…but I had to rush and shoot by hand…not sure what the images will look like.

When I finally arrived at my favorite morning location, the best of the morning show was beginning to wind down…I did get a few shots…but bit my lip all morning knowing that if I had only left a few minutes earlier I would have caught one of those perfect lavender mornings on the prairie.

Within minutes after I arrived…it clouded over. Within an hour it began to rain…a few minutes later a classice prairie storm blew in…thunder, lightning, and torential rains…it was fun to experience. The once bright morning sky grew almost black within seconds…just before the main rain event erupted…Man what a treat!

Next trip up there I will leave earlier and with any luck hopefully I’ll capture that one elusive shot that I’ve been trying to get. The weatherman says next week this overcast rainy pattern will break and it will get muy hot. So far their forecasts have been questionable…maybe that will change also.

I’m well into vacation by now…and yes I’m enjoying myself if only the weather would co-operate…or more specifically if the weatherman would get his act together and give an accurate forecast.  I’ve made it up to the Tallgrass Prairie once so far primarily because the weather forecast has caused me to hesitate. I’m looking for some specific conditions so I can take some specific kinds of shots and those conditions just have not materialized…yet. I will be heading up that way Friday morning about 4:30 am so I can be there before the sun comes up…hopefully the sun will show itself and not be obscured by the prevailing overcast that seems to not want to go away.

Anyway…I managed a four hour trip Monday afternoon…didn’t arrive until after 4:30 pm. The conditions were not very good…high overcast with a pale white sky…not much texture in the sky and most of the buffalo were off roaming some other place. Even so, for the first couple hours I managed to get in a short hike and snap a few pictures. Around 6:00 pm I noticed the sky starting to burn off and a little sun peeked thru a time or two. As the afternoon progressed more blue sky began to appear and the end of day opportunity started to look better.

I stood next to a pond trying to get a shot of a flying dragonfly…not an easy task. While I was standing there I heard some coyotes way off yelping and thought it appropriate to hear such music on the prairie.

The sky continued to break apart and I drove over to another area and watched some buffalo way off. Way to far off to get any good pictures. As I stood there I heard the coyotes again and their howling was coming straight out in front of me. I couldn’t see them, but using the big zoom lense I finally managed to get sight of them about 3/4 of a mile away.  They were very close to the same location I spotted the other coyotes that I referred to in the previous blog.  Maybe they were same ones…or part of that same family.  From what I could tell, they had that similar appearance…large and healthy.

Not far from that location to the west is a rocky knoll about a 1/4 mile from the road that creates one of the higher points along that stretch. I’ve been to that location before and remembered it being a good observation place for sunsets…plus I wanted to find some cone flowers and vaguely remember there being a few up on that point.

About a half hour before sundown I hike across the prairie to the top of that hill and indeed discovered cone flowers…a whole field of them! On the back side of the crest unseen from the road spread several acres of pale purple cone flowers waving in the wind. To me, cone flowers are to the prairie what Michael Jordan is to basketball..they define the best of what its all about.

As the sun began to settle I shot cone flower pictures from every way I could imagine. While I was there, I heard the coyotes again as they serenaded the setting sun.

I eventually made my way down the slopes of that shallow hill stopping to look back from time to time and stopping to duck the night hawk that was dive bombing me…I must have gotten to close to a nesting area.

As far as I know, that basically insignificant little hill has no name…but I now call it Cone Flower Hill…Oh yeah, I never did get that shot of a flying dragon fly.

     Coyotes and prairies just seem to go together. Most coyotes I’ve seen over the years are half starved scraggly looking critters. Very few ever look reasonably healthy, but, a few years ago I encountered a family of these interesting canines while visiting Oklahoma’s Tallgrass preserve. They were the most beautiful coyotes I’ve ever encountered.
     It was late spring, but quite warm as the summer season was approaching. That area doesn’t receive all that much rain even during a wet season, but that year it was particularly dry with considerably less spring rain than normal. I had spent the better part of the day hiking around taking a few pictures and simply enjoying just being out and amongst this marvelous landscape. As the last half hour of the day began to settle toward its final farewell, I hiked about three hundred yards to the top of high grassy knoll. My intent was to watch and hopefully capture one of those legendary prairie sunsets as it played out across the rolling panoramic that spread out in front of me. This was my pre-digital days and I was still shooting film and by this time in the day my film stock was beginning to run low. I had maybe eight or ten images left that I could take.
     About a quarter mile to the south ran a dry creek bed than cut across and through a lower section of the landscape. It was characterized by steep banks and rocky soil…and because it had been so dry that year…very little water. As I sat on that grassy knoll, I happened to notice some movement along that creek bed. With my lens zoomed all the way out I could just make out three coyotes as they worked their way along the edge of the creek. Too far off to effectively take any pictures, I tried to keep an eye on them with the camera and lens but within a few minutes lost sight of them.
     The sunset progressed over the next ten or fifteen minutes to the point where the sky was beginning to turn golden. I isolated a few cone flowers against the sky and snapped a few shots. I was down to maybe two or three images remaining when I again noticed some movement south of me only this time it was closer…a lot closer. About fifty yards away on the edge where that grassy knoll dropped off more steeply to the south stood one of those coyotes standing broadside staring at me through the tall grass. Thirty or so yards away from that one stood another facing me his head held high to see over the edge of the knoll. Neither one of us had seen the other until that moment. The light was really low by this time, but I grabbed my camera hoping to get to use the last couple of images to capture these guys. I snapped off a couple quick shots just as they both scampered off. In their haste, I spotted the third one trailing not far behind.
     I’ve never before seen coyotes that were as impressive as these. Their tawney coats were magnificent and full with dark brown and black blotchy areas across their shoulders and neck accenting the lighter buff and reddish color of their undercoat. Their heads were big and eyes were keen. Their bodies appeared larger than most ordinary coyotes.  For a moment I thought they might have been a family of Red Wolves, but the Red Wolf is extinct in Oklahoma now and has been for 50 years; their habitat destroyed, and numbers decimated by the misguided theory that predators were bad and should be shot on sight or poisoned. By 1930 their numbers dwindled to but a scattered handful in two locations…the Ozark/Ouachita Mountain area of Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Missouri, and along the wooded areas of southern Texas and Louisiana…and in many cases they actually inner bred with coyotes producing a larger hybrid. Fortunately, a few of the remaining Red Wolves were captured and they have undergone a captive breeding program since the late 1980’s and have been reintroduced into suitable habitat in North Carolina. Maybe someday, they will return to Oklahoma.
     Because of their size and color, the coyotes I encountered certainly appeared to have some of that Red Wolf genetics in their makeup. In my heart I wanted them to be Red Wolves, but realistically, I understood the probability of that was very low. I continued watching them for several minutes as they trotted off toward the setting sun in search of their evening meal…a couple of times along their route they stopped and looked back at me before moving on.
     Unfortunately, the quick pictures I took were not very good…blurred and they were just too far off…so I don’t have any images to share. Even so, the mental images I have of these magnificent creatures are still vivid and alive.
     Coyotes are one of nature’s most successful and adaptive critters…much more difficult to get close to than one would think. As I return to the Tallgrass Prairie this season, I hope to encounter a few more of these guys. Maybe, with any luck at all, I’ll be able to see the most recent members of this same family and take their portraits to share. Even if I do not, in my mind’s eye I will still hear the coyotes howl at dusk, and visualize the ghosts of the Red Wolves as they drift across the prairie.