Part of the challenge in photographing wild animals is to know, and sometimes guess, where they’ll be in any given time and place. One is often found fumbling around in the woods trying to find the correct position, trying not to make much noise, trying to get as close to the subject(s) as possible yet maintaining a safe distance, etc. Yes, indeed, photographing wild animals is a lot like hunting, except you shoot a camera instead of a rifle and the animal is still living when you’re done. There are times, however, when you (the photographer) feel like the one who is being sought. Such is the case with my picture, Moon Gold.
I took this shot in Rocky Mountain National Park on an early autumn evening after photographing elk during the start of the rutting season. The moon was rising low over the horizon with one of those golden “harvest” like looks to it. Tired as I was from a day full of shooting I couldn’t just walk away from a scene like that without trying to take a picture. So, with a sigh, I pulled my camera gear back out and, in the afterglow, began to set up the shot.
Now, you can’t see it in the frame but just over the hill and to the left was a sizeable herd of elk about 50 strong or so. They must have thought I looked pretty silly bumbling around trying to find a good spot for my picture because not too much time went by before the whole herd started to march over the hill in my direction. At first I didn’t think much of it, assuming the herd was just side skirting my position on their way to the forests edge. Suspiciously though, they suddenly took a hard left, came up to about 30 feet from me and stopped. Stranger still, they then began to file in like concertgoers finding seats in an auditorium. Needless to say, for the next half hour, I felt like the lead player in a surreal gig for a very unique audience. The whole herd standing there watching me work the camera. . . quiet and intent.
“What, they’re not supposed to do that!”, I slowly thought to myself. “They’re supposed to be weary of me, not interested in me. . . am I blocking their way or. . .” And then came the scary thought, “Crap, it’s rutting season. . . if there are any bull elk around I’m going to become the target of a crazed male’s testosterone filled rage!”. By now I’m starting to get a bit nervous, peering out the corner of my eyes. . . waiting, with some trepidation, to see antlers fly my way any moment. Luckily, none came. . . just the continued casting gaze from my seemingly curious oddly calm audience.
A couple more exposures and. . .done! Pack up the gear, find the Jeep, start the engine, engage the drive and watch, in the rearview mirror as I pull away, my hoofed spectators holding still, in the dark, as if I might return with an encore performance. I assume they eventually made it to their bedding grounds. If elk could talk I wonder what they might say the next morning. . . “What did you and the girls do last night Darla?. . . Oh, we watched a stupid human play with a black metal box. . . what a show. . . How interesting, I see people do that all the time here. . . don’t they have anything else better to do, like eat grass??” So now I tell all I meet who see this picture about the elk in it. And, of course they query, “What elk, I don’t see any elk?!” And I respond, “Oh, yes they’re there. . . just to the left of the frame. . .right beside that bush. . .they were there the whole time”.
Wapiti, you never know what they’re going to watch!
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