 |
|---|
|
|---|
Capture the moment and never leave home without your camera.
These are two of the most important things I was taught in a photojournalism class at Indiana University a lifetime ago. A few years later I would put these lessons to the test traveling around the country as an auto racing photographer.
I achieved some success at capturing the moment --- in this case, action photographs that provided some insight into the power, concentration and emotions of the sport, the drivers and other members of the racing teams.
Most of my photos these days are for Outdoor Indiana, where I also work to capture something special about a place or a wild animal. That is, when I remember to bring a cameral along with me.
A few of my wildlife photos have made interesting stories in these pages --- the tree-nesting Canada goose, the osprey carrying his half-eaten catch, a wood duck at the backyard bird feeder and a hawk feeding on one of the ducks that visited the same feeder.
Another favorite is the woodchuck above, masquerading as a chunk of limestone riprap along a riverbank. He spotted me while I was canoeing one evening, and he tucked in between the rocks to wait until I passed. Although the light was getting low, I was carrying a flash and ended up with another photo and a story.
Unfortunately, I haven't always followed my professor's advice. So here are a few photo opportunities I have missed because I left the camera in the closet.
While fishing one morning, I saw a red fox move from the woods to the river to take a drink. What makes this remarkable is that I was fishing in northern Marion County.
Beavers usually avoid intruders, especially during daylight. But one, his mouth stuffed full with long grass, nearly rammed the canoe one afternoon on the way to his den.
Ever see a fish jump into a canoe? You might have if I had remembered the camera.
On another early fishing morning I canoed past a raccoon that was clinging precariously to a log that protruded from the water. Several feet from dry terrain, the raccoon was shaking and acting as if he would like a canoe ride if I just got a little closer.
Instead, I went home for the camera. The little fellow was gone when I returned. Most likely, he learned that raccoons can swim.
A few weeks ago, at about the same spot on the river, I heard a loud snort --- the kind a person makes when you get your nose full of water.
The snorter, as it turns out was a fox squirrel. Angered that he couldn't figure out how to get around a docked pontoon boat to dry land, the furiously paddling rodent decided to swim 150 yards to the other side of the river.
I learned that squirrel tails are very buoyant and it takes way too much work to keep a squirrel afloat.
And I think I finally learned that I shouldn't leave home without my camera.
 |
|---|
Stephen Sellers, editor
