Sunny 16 Camera Club

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.

     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.

     Sometimes I believe I was born in the wrong century. Our modern world has provided us with conveniences our forefathers only dreamed of. Yet in many ways because of those luxuries we’ve lost something of ourselves.

     Often I am torn between wishing I could wander back in time to experience the simpler life unencumbered with the hassles of today’s world, and understanding that those so called good old days were actually pretty hard and demanding. Even so, too often we neglect what our souls need. The modern world has separated us across time from our connection with the land and the inherent aesthetic qualities a slower pace of life provided for our inner peace.
     In our rush to find success we sacrifice significance. In our desire to make a good living, we overlook how good experiencing nature makes us feel. We’ve forgotten how to do those things that were once common place and instead rely on high tech solutions to solve our needs.
     Don’t get me wrong. I understand that modern technology has enhanced and made our lives easier in many, many ways, and those things should not be denigrated. But, often I feel a tugging inside to step away from those things and seek out a place that provides that unique connection to who we once were.
     Fifteen or more years ago now, I made my first visit into Oklahoma’s Tallgrass Prairie Preserve. For some reason I always had envisioned that area as simply just a big pasture full of weeds. How wrong I was. From the outset it became apparent that this was a unique landscape with a history, and ecological impact far more important than any weed filled pasture might offer. It was full of drama and filled with a myriad of wildlife and plant species that I was later to understand as more varied than found in the rainforests. The only camera I possessed at the time was one of those disposable 35mm film cameras, and it fell well short of capturing the essence of that wonderful place.
     On the afternoon during that first encounter, I pulled the car off the dirt road and walked across the prairie a couple hundred yards to the top of a grassy knoll. It was a warm, breezy day in late May and the summer heat had gratefully not yet arrived. About a quarter mile from where I sat down a few hundred bison meandered across the rolling hills that dropped away to the west. Few if any signs of human existence were visible, and I released a deep calming breath.
      For several hours I simply sat there on the grassy knoll listening to the prairie sounds; birds sing, feeling the wind in my face – hearing it as it swirled across the tallgrass, insects flittering about, and the low grumble of the distant bison herd. The prairie grasses possessed a unique flavor and aroma all their own and all of my senses were challenged to accept this rich new stimuli. Eventually, I watched the sun slowly sink into and then below the horizon. The sky turn brilliant orange, then red, then faded into a shade of lavender and purple. As I stood and bid it farewell I made a promise to myself that I would someday return and seriously photograph this wonderful place. Little did I know that a full decade would pass before that opportunity would become reality.
     In time I learned that only about 1% of North America’s original 400,000 square miles of Tallgrass Prairie still existed. Most of the rest was converted into cropland, highway right of ways, and city streets. Bordered on the east by hardwood forests, and on the west by the drier climate short grass prairies and the Rocky Mountains, it once stretched from Canada into Texas and across Iowa and Illinois. It was the most dramatic transformation of the landscape in history. At one time, the state of Iowa was about 98% tallgrass prairie. Today, almost nothing is left. It is like having Iowa represented as a 1000 piece puzzle. Today, all that is left is a broken scattered fraction of one piece. Across the Tallgrass Prairie’s original range, the same holds true.
     Once I began to grasp what happened to this unique eco-system, discovering that Oklahoma, my home state, possessed the largest single unbroken track that remained, I had no other choice than to try to photograph it. I’m not the first to do so, but I wanted to capture its essence in such a way as to create a complete body of work that serves to define what we as a nation almost lost.
     Photographing a location like the Tallgrass Prairie requires more than simply pointing your camera at various objects that you see. The Tallgrass Prairie is a story unto itself with a diverse history and ecological importance. To tell that story you must seek to capture its essence in not only the broad vista sense, but in the more subtle ways as well.
     In May of 2008, I spent one full day driving and hiking across the preserve shooting in excess of 700 images. Although I managed to return a few times after that day for a few hours, the bulk of my photographic attempt was from that one day. The weather was typical Oklahoma weather; un-cooperative. The day presented either dark dreary skies, or thunderstorms and rain, or bright hazy bland skies. What I wanted was one of those blue sky puffy white cloud days. Even so, it wasn’t until later that I realized that the soft light I encountered provided some wonderful lighting opportunities and I managed to capture at least a few nice images.
      From that series of images I began to formulate an idea about building a photo exhibit based on the Tallgrass Prairie. This season, June 2009, I will be returning equipped with a rekindled desire to visit this most unique of our landscapes. Maybe the weather will be more cooperative.

     In July, the first showing of the “Oklahoma’s Tallgrass Prairie – One Day on the Bluestem Sea” exhibit will be held at the Bob Kirby Branch Library in Bowling Green. I hope everyone who reads this can find the time to visit.
     I realize I get a bit long winded with these blogs. Bear with me if you will. Over the next few weeks I hope to write more about the trials and tribulations of photographing the Tallgrass Prairie. Trust me on this one – it’s not as simple as it sounds.