Kelsey with leaf bug, which she located from its "chirping" sound.

©Bert Gildart: “It sounded like a bird chirping,” said Kelsey, one of my wife’s grandchildren and a person whom I always enjoy seeing. “It fell out of a tree right beside me and that’s how I found it.

“I could hardly see it.”

Appropriately, the insect Kelsey was referring to is called a leaf bug and the more we examined it the more interesting it became.

As you can see from the photo, they blend almost perfectly with their surroundings, and in fact, from some angles can’t be distinguished from the real leaves around them. Biologically, they are also interesting for if an individual loose one of its limbs, next time it  molts it will  have a new one.

Because of these various characteristics, and because they are harmless to people, some keep leaf bugs as pets.

PRAYING MANTIS

Though the leaf bug was a new creature to Kelsey (and to me as well) not so the praying mantis (look, it’s praying!), which is spelled with an “a” even though it preys on insects. Kelsey knew exactly where to find the model for my photographs. She also knew it was a desirable creature to have around.

Amazing how creatures evolve with features that serve to protect them from predation, in this case "protective camouflage.

People who garden organically encourage the presence of praying mantis because they help reduce undesirable insects from building up.  Each year they consume large numbers of insects. Likewise other creatures prey on the mantis, most commonly the bat. The mantis, however, has developed a technique for foiling bats.

MANTIS ECOLOCATION?

According to an on-line encyclopedia, mantises, when flying at night, are able to detect bats through echolocation. When their built in radar warns them of an approaching bat, they will stop flying horizontally and begin a descending spiral toward the safety of the ground, often preceded by an aerial loop or spin.

Praying mantis, spelled with an "a" for reasons that seem obvious.

Though the several insects included here can be difficult to photograph the task is simplified with high-powered electronic flash units, which enhance depth of field. (See strobes). Still, you’ve got to have someone with an interest in the outdoors and Kelsey (and the Connelly family in general) certainly do have that. Right now it’s bugs, and Janie and I are learning much more about this fascinating world – and the stories that can be told about them through photography.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chicken Alaska and Mike Busby’s Pedro Dredge

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©Bert Gildart: It’s impossible for us to pass near Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota and not make the 50-mile detour south to camp there, even if it is only for a night. This year we particularly wanted to see these Badlands because everything seems so lush. We were not disappointed.

The park is divided into a North Unit and a South Unit, but this time around we only had time for only the North Unit, which is separated from the South Unit by about 30 miles. Over the years I’ve written about six stories for a variety of magazines and done so because this isolated area grows on you, celebrating as it does grasslands, buffalo, wild horses – and the rugged life of Theodore Roosevelt.

ROOSEVELT SAID BADLANDS MADE HIM PRESIDENT

After settling into a campsite we drove the park road to the Little Missouri Overlook and I was reminded that once Roosevelt had marched two thieves to justice along this river, staying awake reading Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Later he remarked that Karenina was unprincipled.  He also said in later years that “If it had not been for my days in the Badlands of North Dakota I would never have been president of the United States.”

Little Missouri flowing through badlands lush with an abundance of vegetation not often seen.

Roosevelt also found solace here, having fled to these very same badlands shortly after his wife and mother died on the same exact day; and as I looked over the expanse of badlands I could see how one might simultaneously find physical challenge and peace. Before me the river flowed serenely and the expanse of lush vegetation that rolled over the Badlands on our July visit offered a sense of well being. But the Badlands that backdropped the Little Missouri could also offer hardship, something one is instantly aware of when the winds wail and when you struggle to climb a steep hill on a day temperatures approach the hundred degree mark.

On this brief stop, however, Janie and I saw only the most benevolent side. The river flowed clear and blue, bison starred back from shaded bluffs, and soft breezes caressed a multitude of flowers and grasses that bowed and dipped on this mild mid summer day.

And now, we’re back on the highway sufficiently rejuvenated to cope with another few days of highway travel.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*The Park That Made a President

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©Bert Gildart: Back on our the road, heading east, but not until after we checked out a spot on the Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge for burrowing owls. We did see one and it was in the very same area where I found one several years ago. Though I was unable to photograph it this time around, I did on my last trip, so I’m including it with this brief post. The image was made with a Nikon camera and a 600mm lens. I also used a blind, which I always carry. Sometime it obscures my presence, sometimes it doesn’t.

Burrowing owl, a common resident of the Charles M. Russell Wildlife Refuge

Before departing Fort Peck I also made a ten mile bicycle trip from the campground, past the Visitor Center and then up a steep hill that then crosses the massive dam. Ten miles later, I completed a very enjoyable and informative round-trip ride.

LARGEST OF ITS KIND

Once this was the largest earth filled dam in the world, but that title was usurped several years ago when Russia constructed such a dam of their own. Nevertheless, the Corps proudly proclaims that Fort Peck remains the largest hydrologically-filled earth dam in the world.

Because the dam is earth filled I had to remind myself that I was in fact riding over a dam, but interpretive panels along the way remind you that the land is certainly altered. Lewis and Clark camped here in May of 1803 and when they did, one member of the party encountered a grizzly bear. As well, members saw their first moose in a place called Dry Fork, which I could easily see as I cycled across the dam.

DAM NOT WITHOUT TRAGEDY

Though most say the dam was needed at the time – and is still needed, all of which may be true – the dam was not without its tragedies, as the other image I’m posting with this blog so informs us.  In September of 1938, eight men perished one day in a massive slide. Two of the bodies were found, but six remain forever entombed in the mud and rock of Fort Peck.

Construction of Fort Peck included tragic moments and now memories

BACK ON ROAD:  Though we are now back on Highway Two camped for the night in Rugby, North Dakota, which city fathers here say is the geographical center of North America, we did make one overnight stop in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It is one of my favorite parks and deserves some mention even though our stay was brief – which I’ll provide in my next post. Today, we’re scurrying around trying to get back on the road and make up for our serendipitous stops.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chena Hot Springs

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Image of Manny Curtis shot with extreme ISO setting

©Bert Gildart: This month’s issue of Native Peoples Magazine features a story of mine about the World Eskimo Indian Olympics (WEIO). The magazine is on the newsstand and is now reminding me of what an adventure Janie and I had last July in Fairbanks, Alaska, where the event is held annually.

The story was illustrated with my images and because I worked so hard obtaining the pictures thought I’d share some in this posting. With the exception of several of the pictures that focused on the arts from remote villages, all were action images and several were taken with natural light but at incredibly high ISOs.

ISO is the digital equivalent of ASA in film, and for those of you who can remember way back to the year 2000 when film was still in vogue, you’ll recall that when you used Ektachrome 400, grain started to appear and could be a real problem. Not so with digital images, which you can further enhance using Lightroom and PhotoShop.

The image of Manny Curtis was taken at an ISO of 2000 while the one of Clyde Brown was taken at an ISO of 800. In the magazine, there is no grain and the colors are intense.

UPCOMING TRAVELS

Janie and I are departing in several days for the East Coast for a number of reasons. We’ll be visiting family in New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts and Washington, D.C. Along the way we’ll be gathering material for a number of stories. After Labor Day, we’ll pull our Airstream to Shenandoah National Park and spend about a month updating a book published by Globe Pequot about hiking and exploring this beautiful park. The book is going into its fourth printing and we have sold over 24,000 copies, which is pretty good for an outdoor book.

Rich Luhr and family may join us in their Airstream in Shenandoah in September and if so, we plan to climb Old Rag, the park’s highest peak. Though not particularly difficult (at least, Rich, for a man 20-plus years your senior!), what makes the ascent so meaningful is the ancient rock. The rock reposes near the summit and dates back to the Precambrian.

As we make our journey back east we may stop for a night in Wisconsin and revisit a lovely couple whom we’ve gotten to know from the Airstream crowd. Ken and Petie Faber are also an extremely talented couple, and they’ve been here in Bigfork the past few days.

Clyde Brown dancing at openng ceremonies of World Eskimo Indian Olympics, Fairbanks, AK.

Ken is a retired insurance man and now devotes his time to refurbishing old Airstreams, creating what the industry calls “Vintage Airstreams.” Petey is a retired teacher and now an artist extraordinaire. Though they are a few years older than Janie and I, they are active cyclists, and think little of striking off on a 50-mile day-long trip.

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

There are some other good people we’d like to visit along our way, several of whom we rendezvoused with this past winter in Anza Borrego. And then, too, we have family in Minnesota, but we’ll just have to see how our serendipitous travels unfold. Several story assignments are pending and if they work out then our route may change, meaning that we’ll have to try and make stops on the way back.

Life, however, is about the present, but because it benefits from the past, I’m hoping my WEIO images stir some atavistic recollections, which is what the four-day event is intended, at least in part, to evoke.

The event has become one of our favorite memories not only because of the superb athletes, but also because we were able to revisit so many wonderful native peoples, whom we count as very good friends.

See you from along the road.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*World Eskimo Indian Olympics

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©Bert Gildart: Seventy years ago today my mom made medical history at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, giving birth through cesarean section to a baby boy. It was a first at the old army hospital, and the baby, of course, was yours truly.

A year and a half later, on December 7, 1941, my dad, mom and I survived the Japanese invasion at Pearl Harbor. Other significant and sometimes traumatic events continued to mark my life and did so for my first 30 years, to include a harrowing rescue in the ocean just off Fort Monroe, Virginia.

At the time I was 14 and not the most devoted of high school students. One day I had decided to skip school, take my dad’s sailboat, and cross  the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay, failing to note that storm-warning flags were flying.

Mount Reynolds reflecting in small pond above Logan Pass

SAVED FROM STORM-RAVAGED WATERS

About mid way across, violent winds kicked up and the sailboat went over, and the last thing my companion and I saw before fog enveloped us was a huge aircraft carrier bearing down. Fortunately the Coast Guard also saw us, marked our location and moved in to snatch us from the violent waves that were sweeping over us. Somehow the rescue efforts were picked up by a local radio station but they got their news wrong.

Reporters were told two teenage boys were lost in the violent storm despite an attempted Coast Guard rescue. Both my mom and dad heard the report and by this time knew I’d “borrowed” the sailboat. But I thanked my lucky stars that they initially believe me dead, for normally my transgression would have brought out the wrath of God in my dad. As it was, both my mom and dad were so glad to see me alive that my “crime” was initially overlooked.

Mountain goat shedding winter coat; Photographer John Roberts, a most impressive man whom I will be describing further in subsequent posts; Bearhat Mountain, reflecting in small pond near Hidden Lake Overlook.

Other such calamities seemed to plague me until the time I was about 30, prompting many of my friends and contemporaries to tell me that I would be lucky to make it to 50 – much to the Biblical allotment of three-score and ten. They contended there were reasons. They elaborated, and though I won’t divulge their thoughts here, will concede that I might have committed transgressions that prompted such delusions.

Nevertheless, I have survived and am now recalling individuals  who made such insensitive comments. Today,  I plan to laugh in their face, for not only am I alive and well, but I am accomplishing things that I feel very fortunate to still be able to do…

GLACIER’S LOGAN PASS

Yesterday, I departed home at 4:30 a.m., drove to Logan Pass and was there to greet the sun from this lofty and incredibly beautiful place in Glacier National Park. While there I photographed goats and the image of Bearhat Mountain reflecting in several small alpine ponds. It was an absolutely beautiful place to look back over my life, concluding like Willie Nelson, that, sure, I have made some mistakes, but that without some of those mistakes I wouldn’t be where I am now. “I’ve profited from my mistakes,” said the famous singer/songwriter in so many words, “giving me wisdom. Life is good.”

I concur, for I have a wonderful wife, crazy enough to embark on many “outlandish” adventures. I also have understanding children – and so does my wife. Moreover, her children have accepted me and that acceptance adds to my blessings.

Mountain goats near Hidden Lake overlook, above Logan Pass

LEARNING FROM LIFE’S MISTAKES

Life, in fact, is good and I have many more goals which I believe I will be able to fulfill.  That is what I concluded yesterday following a fairly vigorous hike  to the Hidden Lake Overlook where I took the photographs included here.

Today, some of my best friends will be joining me to celebrate this day and there are several who will be attending whom I will remind of the predictions they made so long ago. I’ll laugh in their face and tell them that I plan to be laughing (but not too loudly) for at least another 20 years. Fate has been generous and I hope will continue, for I have many more mountains (both metaphorical and literal) that I fully intend (Chilkoot) to climb.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Alaska Travels

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Skunks remain our new and most welcome neighbors

©Bert Gildart: Recently U.S. District Judge Martin Feldman, a man with oil interests (until he sold subsequent to his decision), lifted the moratorium on oil drilling. To put it bluntly, I smell a skunk. In fact, the skunks I’m now seeing in my yard quite likely have odor that is considerably less foul than is that of those now responsible for lifting this moratorium. The moratorium, of course, was not an indefinite one, just one intended to allow us time to conduct research that would help prevent another disaster – and the loss of yet more lives.

But that apparently won’t work for Feldman, who is now setting us up for a catastrophe that could be greater than the one we are now experiencing.

From what I read virtually all available resources are currently trying to help BP with its mega disaster, which has created a catastrophe beyond anything we’ve ever known – at least on a short term basis. Lives have been lost, jobs destroyed, and an environmental nightmare has been created that just seems to be getting worse. Compounding the matter is that BP “facts” change each day as company representatives take to the air.

And now Feldman wants to proceed with more drilling, which says to me that the man could care less about the potential loss of more lives or the immense environmental problems that yet another oil spill could cause.

What I want to know is: if we do drill — and if drilling creates another Apocalypse, how would we attempt to resolve a new problem with most world resources now engaged?

Am I missing something?

PROBLEMS IN GLACIER

Logan Pass in Glacier Park opened June 24^th and with its opening, more people are visiting, and some, in fact, are carrying guns, as the law now permits.

As predicted by most park rangers, the law permitting guns is going to create immense management problems, as was demonstrated this past week. Apparently two women hiking one of the trails in the Many Glacier Valley were approached by a deer that was swinging its head to and fro. This frightened the women and one of them pulled out a .38 caliber pistol and then fired it into the ground near this ferocious animal. Though it is now legal to carry firearms, it is not legal to discharge them randomly.

They've gotten used to us and no longer threaten us with raised tails.

From the way the summer is starting off, it does appear as though someone is going to be seriously injured, for most visitors cannot tell the difference between the barrel and the stock (or the pistol grips). It seems likely, too, that a bear will be wounded and then there will be real problems.

On the home front, young SKUNKS continue to explore the new environment into which they have just emerged. Of the three that we originally saw a week ago, only one seems to remain, and as you can see, we’re only prejudiced against certain types of skunks, not all.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Keeping Guns Out of Our National Parks

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One of our neighbors

©Bert Gildart: This past week we’ve been trying to make the acquaintance of a new family that has probably been here for some time, though we’re just now meeting them.

At the moment the family consists of two young and one adult female, and all three are characterized by black bodies punctuated by two broad white stripes running along each side of their bodies. On all the stripes join into a broader white stripe at the back of the neck. The stripe is then interrupted by a small patch of black, but then picks up immediately, running along the center part of each of their foreheads.

Of course, I’m describing what now remains of a family of striped skunks, and because family units are generally larger, I’m assuming one of the Great Horned Owls we frequently hear at night from the huge nearby cottonwood may have taken several. Or maybe it was one of the feral dogs or cats, which we sometimes see and cuss.

Janie saw our skunk family  the other night from our kitchen window. They were emerging from beneath a hole along the side of our neighbor’s outbuilding. From the building the two small young made their way to our front door, and for awhile, we could hear the soft movement of their paws in the gravel.

RANGE OF TOLERANCE

Grabbing my camera I had to see what their response would be. Upon opening the door, they turned tail (literally), and then elevated their three bushy tails as though choreographed. I kept my distance, and they kept  their spray, only threatening me when I approached too closely. I assumed they must have a range of tolerance, and I certainly intended to keep it.

We live in a farming community and some of our neighbors enjoy them as do we.  But not everyone feels the same. In fact, the other night a friend exclaimed :

“We don’t need skunks around here!”

Turning Tail accompanied by nervous camera shake

Janie responded saying that skunks may sometimes defend themselves with spray, but when left alone they go about their business in ways that can sometimes be beneficial.  Our immediate neighbor, the one whose out building under which they have taken up residence, agrees.

THEIR BIOLOGY

Actually, skunks benefit us all (more from my previous skunk postings). Feeding between dusk and dawn, they search for mice, eggs, carrion, insects, grubs, and berries. At sunrise, they retire to their dens, which may be a hole beneath a building, a rock pile or simply a burrow in the ground. Skunks do not hibernate but instead become semi-active or simply take long naps.

In February or March, mating occurs, and by early May, after a 42- to 63-day gestation period, a litter of about five or six young is born. The young are born blind, but as they mature, follow their mother until late June or early July.

GOOD PETS

I’ve been told that skunks actually make pretty good pets, and in fact, this last image is of a tame skunk. At the time I was working for a newspaper and a young man, who had once been a student of mine, knew I also photographed wildlife, and said we could take his desented skunk into the woods and find a good setting. This old log worked and the two old Metz Strobes provided the proper lighting. I recall that the skunk was affectionate and that it was easy to transport. Later yet, I used the image in a Mammal book which I produced in cooperation with Glacier National Park.

Emerging for evening feed

As I say, I’ve had a long association with stripped skunks and see no reason to harm them unless they’re getting into someone’s chicken coop.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*In Defense of Dandelions

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©Bert Gildart: One hundred years ago, today, 1.1 million acres in the northwest part of Montana was set aside as the nation’s 10^th national park. Like all young college people, many features combine to influence my life, but none had more of an impact on me than this wild country we now call Glacier National Park.

Mountain Goat at Gunsight Pass back dropped by Lake Ellen Wilson

For me it all began in 1961 in Washington, D.C., where I waved good bye to my aunt and uncle — who literally and figuratively pointed the way — and boarded a Greyhound bus. Three long days and nights later I arrived in Great Falls, Montana,  where I found a run-down hotel adjacent to a raucous bar. I was impressed but exhausted, and without the movement of the huge bus fell asleep before I could muster the energy to investigate the mysteries behind dark curtains and neon lights.

GREYHOUND WEST

Next day, I boarded a local bus and was overwhelmed as it ascended from the trough channeling the Missouri River to the top of a steep butte — where I soon sat stunned by my first real view of the Rocky Mountains, still clad in winter snow. Behind me sat two elderly Indian men, speaking in their native language. They were bound for the nearby Blackfeet Indian Reservation and the combination of Indians and rugged mountains seemed to posses the  potential for raw adventure — and that is what I craved.

Five hours later the bus pulled into West Glacier and so began what has become a life-long passion for this land born out of the chaos of great tectonic forces.

FOR LARGER RENDITION, CLICK ON EACH IMAGE. L To R: Going to Sun Mountain, David Gildart hiking by mountain goats, Granite Park Chalet, Chief Earl Old Person renaming Trick Falls as Running Eagle Falls.

For a number of years I worked in the park on the eradication of white pine blister rust. As well, new friends and I hiked many of the back country trails and here is where my experiences began to mount. In fact, the experiences were so influential that I returned to college after a prolonged hiatus, enrolling at Montana State University. However, I always continued with my summer work in Glacier National Park.

During these first few summers, I made marathon hikes and recall that during my first summer I got lost. Another summer I climbed Chief Mountain and, then, just weeks later, climbed another prominent one known as Heaven’s Peak. I did so with Ken Price (now a high school principle in Helena, Montana) and David Wilson, and if Wilson is still alive, his life may have been altered more than any other person to work in  Glacier.

PERMANENTLY MISSING PERSON

Essentially, David was a loner, and the very next weekend he climbed Going-to-the-Sun Mountain (just above on left) alone, but after that, he was never heard from again. We know Wilson reached the top as he signed the register, but then, nothing! The park conducted a thorough search organized and lead by Bob Frauson, a former 10^th Mountain Ranger. At the time of the search Bob had become a district ranger in Glacier and I remember that he spaced us out in a way that enabled us to scour the woodlands. Again, nothing. And then an expert mountain-climbing group combed the entire climbable  route (and fringe route too) but again, nothing.

Later, Bob researched David’s background and expressed thoughts that there was much about his makeup that might have prompted him to stage a grand disappearance, something friends who know him also thought plausible. If that is the case, I liken him to Christopher McCandeless (AKA as Alexander Supertramp) who rejected his family by going “Into The Wild.” But unlike Supertramp who died in a school bus in Alaska, hope exists that David’s life did not end tragically. Perhaps, he’s somewhere in South America. At any rate, no trace has ever been found of David Wilson.

CHANGED LIVES

As the years went by I applied for seasonal work in Glacier as a ranger and continued with my love of exploring the park’s wilderness trails. As part of my work I fought fire, worked on bear management, gave tickets, endured the historic flood of 1964, introduced my children to the park’s backcountry, and continued my explorations of this incredible park. The adventures mounted and subsequently paved the way for a life in newspaper and magazine work as an outdoor writer and photographer. Later, my interest in Glacier evolved to the point where I became interested in all of America’s national parks, which Janie and I now explore at length.

FOR LARGER VERSION CLICK ON EACH IMAGE.  L to R: Mountain goat kids at Logan Pass, Chief Mountain, hiking to Grinnell Glacier, grizzly bear on trail to Iceberg Lake.

Others, I know, can also tell  stories of life-altering changes, but  what many of us share in common is that it all began with Glacier. That’s something many may be recalling today. Possibly they’ll be doing so throughout the country, but for sure at park headquarters in the conference center. Day’s events will began with opening comments by Superintendent Charles Cartwright and will run through the afternoon. I’ll be attending, and perhaps I’ll run into some of my own buddies and learn more about what changes this magnificent park have wrought.

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THIS TIME (Almost!) TWO YEARS AGO:

*National Bison Range Celebrates 100 Years

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©Bert Gildart: OK, it’s official! On May 17^th Montana Public TV will air a “Night of the Grizzlies” retrospective.

As many may recall, 43 years ago on August 13, 1967, two young women were fatally mauled, one at Granite Park Chalet, the other, at Trout Lake. A huge mountain range separated the two incidents as did about eight linear miles, making it impossible for the same grizzly bears to have been involved in both tragedies. However, conditions at both sites were similar in that the bears had been habituated to people by the presence of garbage.

GARBAGE THE CULPRIT

At Granite Park Chalet, managers were intentionally disposing of garbage immediately behind the rustic stone building, doing so to attract grizzly bears. Unfortunately, the route the bears followed to the chalet passed directly through the Granite Park Chalet campground, and on that horrible night, the route led directly to where a young woman was camped.

By virtue of backcountry neglect, once Glacier's grizzlies dined sumptuously on garbage. Generally, it was unintentional, but not always.

At Trout Lake campers had been disposing of excess food or food they couldn’t eat, creating odors that also attracted bears. Much the same had happened at other park campgrounds, but the conditions were particular serious at this beautiful site because it also happened to be some of the park’s best bear habitat.

As a young ranger in the park, I was involved with the two incidents, tangentially at Granite Park Chalet, and personally at Trout Lake. At Granite Park Chalet, I heard the call for help over the radio as I was shuttling a huge CAT over Logan Pass. It was about midnight and I was on road patrol, and the radio pack set at the chalet was apparently too small for effective transmission. From my patrol car (I was working that summer as a road patrol ranger) I relayed the message to headquarters.

ANOTHER MAULING?

The next morning I was astounded when Norman Hagen, another ranger, pounded on my door and said that I must hightail it to Trout Lake, for there had apparently been another bear mauling.

In previous posts I’ve reported on my involvement, and much of this will be replayed May 17^th.   But Montana Public TV interviewed everyone involved, and there were many others; and some played particularly significant roles. There was a doctor, a helicopter pilot, and a ranger stationed at Granite Park. There were hikers who had accompanied the victims, and tried — after the mauling — to do what they could. There was Leonard Landa, a ranger and my partner in tracking down and disposing of the bear. There was a minister at Granite Park, who provided comfort…

I believe the TV company found most all these people, so the reporting promises to be thorough. Gus Chambers, one of the program’s film makers, tells me that they have also recreated many of the scenes using actors, so I will be anxious to see how this comes off. (Did they choose Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp to portray me?)

Today, upon encountering people, MOST bears in Glacier prefer to go another way.

Gus says he will soon known the URL for an Internet “streamed” version and that he will share it when it is final. That means people all over the world can watch the program on their home computers. I’m excited as I believe the program will dispel many myths.

100 YEAR ANNIVERSARY

Presumably, because the program is airing on the 100 year anniversary of Glacier National Park there will also be some retrospective on what conditions were like in 1967, and what they are like now. At the time, after finding the body of one of the young women, I had to wonder why we needed bears in Glacier, but my thoughts have changed. They’ve changed because these magnificent beasts are no longer habituated to garbage, and that means your chances of encountering a grizzly bear are really very, very small.

Put another way, you are probably safer hiking the trails of Glacier than you are driving through the Flathead Valley to the park’s various entrance stations. In other words, you are forewarned about inherent problems, and you can certainly elect to remain off the trails; but then you’d be missing a lot. Though there are problems sometimes, park rangers and managers have learned much over the past four decades and are doing a good job today of “Keeping Glacier’s Grizzly Bears Wild.”

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR

Poke Salad

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©Bert Gildart: Montana’s Flathead Valley has a huge population of osprey, and right now they are in the process of building nests. Mostly we see them on the top of telephone poles, but every now and then friends tell me of a nest they’ve found. Generally, they’ve discovered a pair nesting in a tree somewhere along Flathead Lake, which was the case with this one.

To photograph the bird, you must have a long lens, as ospreys are not very tolerant, and here I used a 600mm lens mounted on a D300 Nikon Camera.

Osprey now nesting in Montana's Flathead Valley, just south of Glacier National Park.

Osprey are unique in that they are one of the two raptors whose outer toe is reversible, allowing it to grasp their prey with two toes in front and two behind. Owls also have this characteristic.

Osprey are fairly common throughout the United States, and I’ve also photographed them in Florida’s Everglades National Park, which is a paradise for those with an interest in natural history.

At the moment Janie and I are preparing to attend an outdoor conference to be held about 70 miles south of our home at a place called Seely Lake. The conference brings outdoor communicators together from all over the Northwest. Each year we look forward to the gathering as we’ve made many good friends and now try to see many throughout the year on a social basis. However, we don’t see them often enough, so this provides a chance to catch up.

SOCIAL YES, BUT ALSO MUCH BUSINESS

While at the conference, we’ll all be attending seminars on writing and photography. We’ll meet editors and be will be introduced to outdoor men and women who would like to see some aspect of their business promoted. Some, for instance, want to see their outfitting business promoted, others their rafting business. Some would like to attract more tourists to their lodge, dining facility and what have you. The conference also provides a grand way to network and obviously to gather story ideas.

Though most will be staying in the posh lodge, Janie and I will be pulling our Airstream to a campground in the immediate vicinity. Not only does it save us money, but we’ve simply come to prefer the comforts of all that our trailer has to offer. Most likely we’ll be joined by others similarly motivated.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace

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©Bert Gildart: Along the country road where we sometimes live when not traveling in our Airstream (we’re not full timers, only 9/12-ers),  in places there’s the persistent but faint odor of skunk. But the source is not animal, rather it is vegetable.

We see the plant every year in late April and in this part of the country we see it in wooded areas where water tends to collect. Such areas may be small, but they are always swampy, not it might seem, particularly inviting for the creation of colorful plants. But look again.

Now rearing its head from swampy wooded areas along Montana's Flathead River, Skunk Cabbage is a stinky spring harbinger.

Rearing from the pools of dark water are foot-high rows of a plant having light green leaves and now producing a brilliant yellow blossom.

Appropriately, the species is known as skunk cabbage, and it truly is one of nature’s more interesting plants. Its presence (along with balsam root and grouse) also means that spring has arrived. For reasons that should be apparent by looking at the images posted here, the plant is also known as “Swamp Lantern.”

INDIGENOUS USES

In days of old the plant was used by indigenous people as medicine for burns and injuries, and for food in times of famine, when almost all parts were eaten.

For reasons that should be obvious, Skunk Cabbage is also known as "Swamp Lantern."

The leaves, according to one writer who apparently was in the know, have a somewhat spicy or peppery taste.

Some of the taste might result from the presence of the calcium oxalate crystals contained in the leaves, a substance that produces “a gruesome prickling sensation on the tongue and throat.”

In various forms the plant is found throughout the north and if you stumble across it you will note its large, waxy leaves, which were also important to Native Americans in the preparation of food and in its storage.

Leaves were used to line berry baskets and several writers say they were used to wrap around whole salmon and other foods before placing them under a fire for baking.

The plant is also eaten by bears, who eat it after hibernating. Apparently it works for them as a laxative.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

Yesterday, when I photographed the plant, I accessed the swampy area after a two mile ride north on my bike. In addition to appropriate camera equipment, I also carried a tarp for lying on the wet spongy ground.

The day was overcast and provided the ideal condition for preserving detail in areas often blocked up on sunny days. For depth of field, I used a long time exposure and a small aperture, probably f-22.

In this part of the country skunk cabbage is always one of the first plants to bloom, meaning that it is also one of the harbingers of spring, albeit a stinky one!

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Earth Mother

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©Bert Gildart: We’ve been home for almost a week, but have been so swamped with problems and sad news that we’ve had no time for postings.

For starters, just after backing our Airstream into its protective shed, we opened the slider to facilitate unpacking. No problem – not until I attempted to close it. Half way in I got diverted by a telephone call. When I returned I hit the wrong switch, the one activating the paddle latches, the latches that, when engaged, prevent the slider from bouncing free as one is traveling. Though I’ve made that mistake before, this time it caused the slider to freeze, and no amount of cajoling would close it. That night I closed the slideout by going outside, removing the 10 screws that allow the hinged cover to swing down. Then, I used a wrench to crank (as Airstream directs) the shaft that manually moves the slide in our out.  It’s an emergency procedure, and took about 10 minutes.

On my last posting web designer Tim Van Buren asked if I'd post a low-light image taken during my morning on the lek. Because of the very slow shutter speed, it's a bit fuzzy and is not one I would have shown but for Tim's request. 800 mm lenses amplify the slightest camera motion and that's what happened here. Still, the lighting, as Tim had suspected, was beautiful.

Next day (Monday) I called Airstream and they planted some ideas, but it wasn’t until I shared those ideas with my neighbor (far more sophisticated with electronics than am I) that the problem was resolved. Hutch discovered that in the recess created when the paddle latches are extended that there’s a tiny pin. The pin needs to make contact with another device (which it does when the paddle latches are closed) to complete the circuit. Though the mistake I made is a common one, one I’ve made before as have others, this time my mistake apparently caused a very slight bend in the pen, thus preventing it from making the connection. Once Hutch discovered the problem, the remedy was achieved by bending the pine just slightly, allowing, then,  the circuit to be completed.

TRANSMISSION WOES

The other frustrating news concerns our transmission, which also decided to go out on our return. Dodge makes an excellent diesel engine and is famous for its Cummings brand, but they paired it with a transmission that others have also had trouble with. I was aware of the potential but still, it’s a shock when Dodge repair people say you have three options as follows: One, repair the old transmission for $2,200; two, replace the transmission with a brand new one for $3,000-plus; three, replace the old transmission with a beefed up new transmission for $4,000-plus. We opted for the second option, but only after learning we might have to wait for several months for a beefed-up transmission.

Repair people say that in the future, they’re going to recommend we change transmission oil every 20,000 miles rather than the recommended 30,000. That’s because we use our vehicle for so much towing. They assure us we should get well over 300,000 on our Cummings engine, and hopefully a lot more out of this, our second transmission. Too bad, I told them they had not paired the Cummings with GMC’s Allison transmission, which has reputation as being of the same quality as the Cummings.

SADNESS

Finally, we returned home to discover that one of my older friends, Loren Kreck, had passed away. (Here’s a report from the Missoulian.) He was an icon in the valley. In World War II, he had been a young fighter pilot. Later, he had returned to dental school and then moved to the Flathead were he worked as an orthodontist. He was a member of The Wilderness Society and was active as skier. He was an avid canoeist and spent months traveling wilderness rivers in Canada. He was a senior hockey player as was Charles Schultz (author of Peanuts), whom he once played against.

Yesterday, we attended his memorial service and though sad, we saw many good friends — as Loren would have wanted. Many shared stories, and Doug Chadwick told a story about a month-long camping trip he made to a remote island off the coast of Baja, California. During the trip, Loren was bitten on the thumb by a bark scorpion. Absolutely no help was available so Loren did the only thing he could do. He got into his kayak and paddled with one arm for most of the day, dangling his arm in the salt water, which seem to cleanse.

Like everyone else, we’ll miss Loren, a man with whom Janie and I have cross-country skied and shared many a dinner, enjoying his  stories of adventure and his sense of humor –  good up to the last breath.  (Loren’s last meal was popcorn and a beer. )

On the flip side, the celebration brought together in one setting several hundred people, many of whom we seldom see.  As life-long friend Lou Bruno said, “Seems the only time we see all our friends is at funerals and at weddings. “

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

V-Bar-V Heritage Site

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Dismantling blind after extremely successful day on Sage Grouse Lek.

©Bert Gildart: It’s pitch black and though we’re quiet, a herd of antelope senses our presence and tests the air with a whishhhh-ing sound. But when our response doesn’t satisfy the group it  gallops off into the pre-dawn light. Again, the vast  prairie  is quiet and we walk on, but soon hear the soft clucking of another species.

Chuck and I are hiking this expanse  not too far from Bannack State Park near Dillon, Montana. We’re here to find sage grouse. Spring is the mating season for this largest of all members of the grouse family and we want to photograph their celebrated mating rituals at one of the state’s historic leks.

Even in this somewhat featureless land of three-lobed sage and big sage, Chuck knows exactly where to go. Quickly he finds what he’s looking for and begins setting up his photo blind.

We settle in to see what morning will bring. It’s cold, well below freezing, and we hunker into our down-filled parkas.

Suddenly Chuck is alert. “Here comes one,” whispers Chuck. “We may have frightened them off initially, but they’re back now!”

WORKING INTO A FRENZY

He’s right and within a few minutes the ground before us is covered with 15 to 20 males and females. Immediately several of the males begin their dance. It is an amazing thing to see.

First they thrust out their white chest feathers. Then, they begin working themselves into a frenzy, inflating their yellowish colored air sacks. Sometimes, they inflate them but partially, other times to the point where they look like huge mammary glands.

But they’re not; they are specialized sacs extending from the esophagus, apparently evolved for the sole purpose of attracting females. At the moment, however, the objects of their affections seem oblivious.

Males begin display by flaring tail feathers and puffing out chest. Sometimes it will “pace” back and forth. Next it begins to inflate its air sacs and tucks its head down all the while creating a whooomping-like sound.

But even if the females aren’t excited, I am, and though I doubt pictures will turn out in this low-light condition, both Chuck and I snap off a few images. Sunrise is still minutes away and though the birds appear as dark blobs, I hope for the best and continue with my reassurance shots. Who knows, perhaps a coyote will come along and spook the group. Or maybe a bald eagle will soar overhead. If that happens, I want some recollection of my experience, for these are amazing birds, not only because of their mating rituals, but because of their general appearance.

“COCK OF THE PLAINS”

Indeed, this “Cock of the Plains,” as Lewis and Clark called them, is a handsome bird. Adults have a long, pointed tail and leg feathers which extend  down to their toes. Over the eyes there’s a yellow brow patch which contrasts with its gray head. When not inflated breasts are white, while the throat and belly range between dark brown and black.

Male grouse with inflated air sacs, wings dropped and tail feathers made erect.

Bodies are huge and large males may weight seven or eight pounds, making the species a prize for hunters. Ornithologists also adore the bird, but probably more for its ritualistic behavior. For these reasons the two groups often work together hoping to insure survival of this magnificent species. Unfortunately, habitat has been eliminated and with it the sage grouse has been reduced to the point where it now occupies little more than 50 percent of its former range. Leks, too, are smaller, and in some places once spread over half a mile and were hundreds of yards wide. Here, hundreds of mating birds once gathered. Sadly, that is no longer the case.

But this morning all seems right with their world, smaller though it might be. Half an hour later the sun poked its brilliant head above the horizon, and it was then that two males began competing with one another. Though the displays are conducted for the benefit of the females, males also compete physically, and this was to be one of those mornings.

Suddenly two males begin a struggle that carried them through the sage brush and off over a small knoll. Five minutes later, one returned and resumed its solo display for the nearby females.

THE ALPHA MALE

Only a few males do the breeding, and this huge fellow appeared to be the alpha male; and he was working himself into a frenzy of color and puff. Next to me Chuck’s camera whirled as he depresses the shutter and then held it down. The action was fast, and capturing some of the excitement required the assurance that only a camera with motor drive can provide.

Chuck and I continue with our fast-action photography and by mid morning realized that we’d begun to fill up the cards of our digital cameras. “Haven’t shot so many pictures in a long time,” said Chuck. Then, looking at the image counter: “I’ve taken over 300 pictures.”

Males attempt to woo hens by creating a presence that is more attractive than competing suitors.

Looking at my frame counter I’m astounded to see that I’d recorded a similar number. Smiling, we both agreed there wasn’t much more to do other than wait for the grouse to disperse, which they generally do, about 9. Though there’s no written rule, protocol says you should disturb the birds as little as possible.

True to form by mid morning the grounds were bare of life and we packed our equipment. We knew we’d seen something very special. In fact, some say that watching grouse on their leks is one of the nation’s top birding experiences. (Another can be seen at Bosque.)

I know two photographers who would certainly agree.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace

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©Bert Gildart: Two morning ago Janie and were camped in a KOA in Brigham City, Utah, and woke to a type of near silence that we generally associate with the falling of soft snow. As we lay in bed deciding whether to look out the window, every now and then we’d hear a soft blop, meaning  that a layer of white stuff was probably sliding down the side of our aluminum trailer.

Curiosity aroused, we peered outside confirming our suspicions. During the night about eight inches of snow had fallen and it completely covered our trailer, our campground – the surrounding mountains — and presumably the roads separating us from Montana.

Two mornings ago snow covered our Airstream in Brigham City.

Two hours later, we called Chuck and Gail, two friends in Dillon, Montana, who informed us that the snow in their part of southwestern Montana was melting fast . That was good news, and now, off in the distance we could see a normal flow of traffic, and to the north it did appear as though the skies were clearing. Our biggest worry was the highly temperamental weather condition of roads on Monida Pass, but we decided to chance it, knowing that, if needed, campgrounds along the way were many.

MONIDA PASS ALWAYS A CONCERN

But now, we had a real incentive to move on, for Chuck and Gail had offered us the use of their driveway to park, and if we could make it we’d have a chance to catch up with the activities of friends we’d gotten to know from our mutual affiliations with two professional writing and photography associations. Chuck (also a professional fishing guide on several well known rivers) and I had both been asked to serve on the board of the Northwest Outdoor Writers Association and this would give us a bit of a chance to think about what we’d gotten ourselves into. “What have we gone and done,” we laughed on the phone.

GROUSE ON LEK

As well, Chuck informed me that sage grouse were performing on a historic lek, and he said that if the weather cooperated we could erect a photo blind and see what transpired. Because I’m writing this after the fact, I know what transpired and can assure you (promise you, in fact!) that Chuck and I were able to photograph a rarely seen phenomena, the results of which I’ll probably be posting tomorrow. But first, we have to get ourselves home.

Back then to Brigham, Utah and to the falling of snow… In short, cars on the highway had whipped the roads free and the temperature was climbing fast. Not only did we have an uneventful drive out of Utah, but also over Monida Pass, (Mon = Montana; Ida=Idaho) where I took time to stop and photograph an old barn, something I do ever time we drive over this historic pass.

Well known old barn on Monida Pass.

And so we powered on, arriving about 5 at the home of Chuck and Gail, and bless them, they had dinner waiting and had even broken out a bottle of wine.

We visited until almost 11 when Chuck, smiled and said that we best be hitting the hay. “You and I, Bert, got to leave here at 5:30 to get the blind up, and we want to be somewhat alert.

“Not too many places left where you can see sage grouse on their breeding grounds, and this is one spectacle you don’t want to miss.”

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Jerome, Arizona

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Janie says we're toughing it out in Zion National Park. (Note solar panels and Watchman Mountain on right rear.) Though conditions are obviously austere, still, she wonders if you'd: "Care to join?"

©Bert Gildart: When weather conditions deteriorate there’s not a whole lot an RVer can do but roll with the punches.

Right now — as I write — Monida Pass, the 6,824 foot-high pass that separates Montana from Idaho, is experiencing blizzard conditions, and we must cross it in order to return home. No big deal, we’ll just stay another day in Zion, which has also experienced inclement conditions.

Unlike Mondia, which is getting lots of snow, Zion has gotten only a little bit of snow; still its presence creates even more glorious conditions. Colors are more saturated and geological lines created by the ages seem more pronounced.

Campgrounds also seem to clear a bit, and that could be a good thing as the Watchman Campground has been booked through to November, and so we have not been able to get in. However, South Campground is immediately adjacent to the Watchman and though it offers no electricity (Watchman does) that has not been a problem, even with cloudy days.

Our four solar panels (two on top and two portable ones) are adequately collecting sufficient  energy for us to do anything we want. With them we have power to operate my energy-consuming computer and the equally as energy-depleting fan that blows out heat from our Airstream’s furnace. Even on cloudy days.

Click for larger image. L to R: Checker Board Mesa, ancient snag; Altar of Sacrifice, so named for streaks of red created by ancient depositions of iron oxide.

And so we are warm and productive and have been enjoying other aspects of this park, which turned 100 just last year. We’ve again toured Zion Canyon (by shuttle bus now, as starting April 1 cars are no longer permitted ) and photographed several more magnificent edifices, specifically Abraham Peak and Isaac Peak – whose names are symbolic to the Mormons.

BOOK OF MORMON

Abraham and Isaac combine with Mount Moroni to form the Court of the Patriarchs. Moroni was named for the angel that Joseph Smith said visited him on numerous occasions, beginning on September 21, 1823. The angel was the guardian of the golden plates, which Smith said were buried near his home in western New York, and which he said were the source material for the Book of Mormon. Though the tableau has never been found still, its presumed existence inspired the Mormon religion, which has endured.

Abraham and Isaac peaks photograph well in early morning light.

Other features were named by Mormons and one is the Temples of the Virgin embracing the  Altar of Sacrifice, so named for the red streaks that course downward. The streaks, which look like blood, actually derive from depositions of iron oxide. Clouds and snow of the past few days have dramatized the temples and framed (see above three photos and then focus on image to the right) the Altar of Sacrifice.

CHECKER BOARD MESA AND JURASSIC WINDS

Later in the day, Janie and I drove the Zion Mt. Carmel Highway. Snow had splashed an ancient snag with patches of white and melt water helped dramatize latent colors in the wood.

We drove to the East Entrance and photographed the banding in Checker Board Mesa. Horizontal banding was created by Jurassic winds, which deposited vast bands of sand in what is now Zion Park. Though the bands tend to be horizontal, when these ancient winds shifted, so, too, did the inclination of the layers. Vertically oriented bands are the result of freezing and thawing, all combining (again, see above) to create a checker board appearance, hence the name.

Sunset adds wonderful red glow to the Watchman -- heralding not only the end of the day, but also the end of our stay in Zion National Park.

Our campground “home” in South Campground is back dropped by a huge monolith called the Watchman, and the other night, the setting sun imparted a wonderful red color to the huge mountain, creating a colorful ending to our day as well as to what is most likely the end of our time in Zion.

The experiences now add to those I’ve been enjoying in this park for over 30 years and which Janie and I have been enjoying for almost 20 years. Zion has always been one of my favorite national parks, and the rain and snow have done nothing to alter those feelings.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Natchez Trace National Parkway

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Daniela Weiss dramatizes the 1400 feet of vertical relief "enjoyed" between Angel's Landing and the Virgin River, far below

©Bert Gildart: Yesterday I was joined by three friends from Montana, but what we really share in common is that Chris, Hutch (see bear spray) and I have all worked in and generally explored many of our national parks. Yesterday, all of us (including Daniela, Chris’ wife) agreed: The hike from the Grotto in Zion National Park to Angel’s Landing is one of our nation’s premier experiences.

From the Landing you get a bird’s eye view of features that inspired such names as The Pulpit, Temples of the Virgin, The West Throne, The Temple of Sinawava, and the Court of the Patriarchs, just to mention a few.

Though you don’t have to make the climb to appreciate the park’s incredible red rocks, ascending such edifices makes you think about beauty and our place in the Cosmos. Some of these rocks were the result of winds that blew during the Jurassic Period, some 140 million years ago.

NOT FOR EVERYONE

But the climb is not for people with recovering knee injuries (such as my wife, Janie) or for anyone with a fear of heights. Nor is the climb for anyone in poor shape, for the hike ascends 1400 feet in a distance of 2.5 miles and in the course of the climb traverses about 30 switchbacks, 18 of which have inspired names such as “Walter’s Wiggles.”

From the Grotto you climb two miles to Scout’s Landing, and though the hike is steep, this is not the section that might send those squeamish about heights into overdrive. It’s the next section, the half-mile section that requires you cling to the park-installed chains, least you slip and descend into the abyss. But it is also this section that generates so much awe and that often compels people to overcome fears.

Click to see larger image. L to R: Hike to Angel’s Landing begins abruptly, and never changes; Chris and wife Daniela peer through hole created by drops of water; descending through Walter’s Wiggles and entering Refrigerator Canyon; descending from Angel’s Landing using security of chain.

“Everyone else,” you say to yourself, “is doing it, so why shouldn’t we?”

PHOTOGRAPHIC CHALLENGE

Yesterday, as we hiked, we saw entire family groups. We saw couples toting babies in packs and this we thought was dangerous, for balance is required. Fortunately, we think the couple must have gotten this message as we never saw them after the first stretch.

For the photographer, the challenge is to figure out some way of dramatizing the 1400 feet of vertical relief that certainly had an impact on me. But there’s also the challenge of showing the beauty of Angel’s Landing and all that surrounds it. Daniela (a psychologist) helped as she inched toward the edge on her stomach, trying to absorb all that lay below. And later, Chris and Hutch (our next door neighbor) and Daniela again helped by descending a staircase cut into the stone that tumbles off into space. The chain is your anchor of life.

Descending from Angel's Landing, secured from the abyss by a stout chain.

Still, it’s hard to convey the feeling just with pictures as the scene is comprised of so many sensory elements. There’s the sun beating on your shoulders, the smell of cedar, the sound of tiny chipmunks scurrying in and out of the rocks, and the freshness of wind gusts that can only be described as whimsical.

And then there’s the beauty derived from the Virgin River cutting down into the red Navajo Sandstone — sculpting as it goes — creating spires, and monuments and temples of sand and stone.

“This really is special,” said Chris, now an international teacher in Berlin, home for a few weeks. “It’s got to rank with floating the Grand Canyon, or hiking the Highline Trail in Glacier.” That’s part of the reason we’re spending our time in Zion; to see all this once again. Climbing up to Angel’s Landing really is a premier experience.”

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

Padre Island is Mecca For Bird Watchers

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©Bert Gildart: This, I submit, would have been a compelling photograph without the raven, but doesn’t its presence, though tiny, really tell the story of this magnificent setting in Zion National Park?

Yesterday, I was driving the Mount Carmel Highway dominated on either side by Navajo Sandstone, when I came across this powerful sweep of rock and color. Climbing the cliff face I set up my tripod then noticed several ravens flying in the distance.

Wouldn’t it dramatize this scene if one of the ravens silhouetted itself where the sky is so incredibly blue?

To make this picture work one of the ravens had to fly into that precise spot. Then it had to cant its wings else the composition wouldn’t have worked. Reading my mind, the raven performed precisely as I had wished.

Zion, yes, but isn't this image also about the raven?

WORLD OF THE RAVEN

The setting also required the use of an extreme wide angle lens to dramatize the world which the raven surveys. In other words, the story is certainly about artistic lines, but the presence of ravens creates a feeling of supremacy. Though the raven may not rule this country its presence adds grace no matter where it is, and that’s something I’ve commented on before.

A friend of mine, Rich Charpentier, makes good use of such settings as he has recently shown us in a trip to Arizona’s White Pockets. Rich is an excellent photographer and a superb print maker as well. He offers educational workshops validated by many testimonials. When I return home I believe Janie and I will commission him to create a large print for our home use.

As well, I’ll be forwarding the image to my photo agent who has been doing well for me with the sale of images, particularly those of birds. And certainly I’ll be using the image to illustrate a story I am producing for Rich Luhr, and his Airstream Life magazine.

Today the bright sunny skies have been replaced by thick overcast clouds, dramatizing the fact that Monida Pass, the major pass we must cross to return to our home in Montana, is now being slammed by blizzard conditions.

Horrible, isn’t it, that prudence suggests we hang out in Zion until conditions improve?

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Sunset For the Joshua Trees?

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©Bert Gildart: Picture stories come in many forms and in the case of the ones shown here, occurred in one of the nation’s most spectacular settings: the Borrego Badlands as seen from Font’s Point in Anza Borrego Desert State Park.

The setting was made particularly interesting when four women began oooo-ing and ahhing as they peered over the ledge and down onto the rugged terrain represented by the Borrego Badlands.

Awed by what they see, the natural response is to immortalize the experience with photography, which the four ladies then proceeded to do.

Though I was located some distance from the women their body language telegraphed their feelings, and I quickly mounted a 400mm telephoto lens onto my Nikon D300, then clicked off a series of images. At the time I thought I was being discreet, but later two of the women made the 100-yard hike from their overlook to my overlook. Smiling, they asked if I’d been taking photos of them, and when I showed them the images, they asked if I’d be so kind as to email several to them.

“PRIVILEGED TO SEE SUCH SCENERY”

The ladies all thought the view was spectacular and it certainly is. They were happy they said, to have been privileged to see such spectacular scenery, such an incredible manifestation of erosion. But the panoramic view also tells a little about this largest of all contiguous state parks in California. Facing south, your gaze embraces Mexico, just 25 miles away. It encompasses Borrego Springs to the west and the Salton Sink with its Salton Sea to the east. Turning around, your gaze falls on the Santa Rosa Mountains to the north. In other words, it’s spectacular which ever way you look.

Borrego Badlands created by forces of erosion

Not only is the view point scenic, but it is also historic and has immense palenontological importance. In 1775 Pedro Font was the chaplain and navigator on Spain’s second expedition from Tubac, Mexico to Mission San Gabriel in California. The expedition was led by Spanish explorer Juan Bautista de Anza, for whom this park was named.

SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE

From the palenontological perspective, these badlands have been an immense repository of fossils to include the ground sloth, short-faced bear, dire wolf, sabertooth cat, mastodon, mammoth, giant zebra, half-ass, camel, yesterday’s camel, llama, giant camel, pronghorn, elk, deer, shrub oxen, and the Bautista horse. In other words, a trip to Font’s Point may well offer a little something for everyone.

It did for these four ladies, and it certainly did for me.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Mojave Preserve

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©Bert Gildart: If there are any limits to what Airstream friends will do for one another, I have yet to find them. Case is point is my request of Tom Palesch:

“Tom,” I asked, “would you mind placing one of the strobe lights next to our scorpion?”

My request was made shortly after Tom and Sandi (see Sandi’s web site on MINIATURE FOOD) had prepared an incredible “Cowboy Breakfast.”  Using the Dutch Oven that the couple toot around with them in their trailer, Tom had placed a pound of breakfast sausage into the metal pot.

After browning he then added a package of frozen hash browns to this cholesterol-free (Ha!) mixture, placed the lid back on and then covered that with about a dozen pieces of charcoal, so creating an oven-like effect. When the potatoes had cooked, he then depressed the mixture with a spatula. He cracked a number of eggs over everything and, finally, he slathered on cheese and  salsa.

SPIT IT OUT

All totaled, cooking required about half an hour, but we then gathered under his awning and dinned on one of the most sumptuous meals I’ve had in a long time. (Somehow all this reminded my of one of my father’s admonitions who always watched his health: “If it tastes good,” he’d exclaim, “SPIT IT OUT!” )

Unfortunately, such delicious meals (No, I didn’t spit it out.) vanish all too soon, leaving us with only another cup of coffee or two to wash down Tom’s epicurean delight.

It was about then that “Eagle-eye Janie” saw the tiny creature (previously described ) undulating over the desert rocks toward our circle of seats. But we’ve learned much since her sighting and my photographic work.

IT WAS A BARK SCORPION

We now know that our scorpion was most likely the bark scorpion, and the description of the species provided by a subsequent Google search made me catch my breath.

Setting for our Cowboy Breakfast and the discovery of a scorpion

“The Bark Scorpion was once thought to be extremely dangerous, but now is considered to be fatally dangerous primarily to infants, children, people in poor health, and the elderly. Also, people who are allergic can have very bad reactions to a bark scorpion. Even still, it has a very potent venom, and can harm you with its powerful sting.”

Of course Tom and I both knew that the sting of a scorpion can be painful but this one didn’t appear to be particularly aggressive, so Tom knelt down beside me and held one of the strobe lights – two to provide greater depth of field as I’ve described in previous postings about flowers (and natural history). I also took photos of our scorpion using natural light, and because our arthropod was so sluggish I asked Tom if he’d take a small twig and elevate the stinger, something he did without hesitation. Now that’s friendship!

MAYBE NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL

When our photo shoot was complete we conducted another research on scorpions and learned a bit more about their life histories and something more about their venom. Life histories of all scorpions are fascinating, but it was the capabilities of their venom that we focused on.

Nothing is too great a favor to ask of Tom Palesch who holds one of my strobes as we work just inches from this bark scorpion.

Here’s what this Google search provided:

“The venom of scorpions is used for both prey capture, defense and possibly to subdue mates. All scorpions do possess venom and can sting, but their natural tendencies are to hide and escape. Scorpions can control the venom flow, so some sting incidents are venomless…”

Now that description made me feel a bit more comfortable.

IS NIGHTTIME PHOTO ASSISTANCE OK?

Despite the potential danger, scorpions intrigue many people and Anza Borrego State Park offers various lectures on the species, one of which I attended last year. At the time the speaker recommended the purchase of a black light for finding scorpions at night, the time at which they are most active. Now that I know they’re out, I’ve been making a thorugh search around all the bushes that surround our two Airstreams. However, if I find one I’m now wondering if it would be too much to ask for night-time photo assistance.

Bark scorpion photographed with natural light

Maybe I’ll just try and con Tom and Sandi out of another one of their delicious Cowboy Breakfasts, if not now, perhaps a little further down the road of our perpetual adventures.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Compassionate Water Tanks

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Barn Owl, Sonny Bono Wildlife Refuge, peering from behind dense cluster of palm fronds.

©Bert Gildart:  Several days ago I returned to the Sonny Bono Wildlife Refuge and was able to photograph two owls, ones that have life histories that are entirely different.

One is the burrowing owl, and it is one of the few that hunts during the day. It’s also the only one I know of that lives in a burrow.

The other owl, the barn owl hunts at night and is so different from other species of owls that it is placed in a separate family all its own.

Unfortunately, owls as a group have not received a favorable billing in recent years. Spotted owls are on the endangered species list – and so, is the burrowing owl.

EXPERT PREDATORS

Experts say that owls serve as one of the very best forms of predator control. Placing a new box for owls on a property can help control rodent populations (one family of hungry barn owls can consume more than 3,000 rodents in a nesting season) while maintaining the naturally balanced food chain.

Sometimes owls are also associated with sorcery and I recall in a wonderful book written by Margaret Craven, I Heard the Owl Call My Name, that the protagonist in the book, an aging priest, did in fact hear the owl and when he heard it, he knew his days were numbered.

Photographs shown here were made on the Sonny Bono Refuge and with long telephoto lenses (840mm).

Lens and camera were mounted on a tripod and because I wanted as much depth of field as I could muster from my setup I stopped the aperture down to the point my shutter speeds were at times about 1/15 of a second.

Burrowing owl habitat is diminishing and to help the species, biologist are creating nesting sites from artificial materials.

So as to eliminate camera movement during exposure I used the mirror lockup function on my Nikon D300.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Joshua Trees

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