Finding a Buck

Washington, D.C., our nation's capital, is rich with people and locations that invoke the past, resonate with the energy of the present, and hint at the future of our country. During my time living in Northern Virginia and working in the District, I enjoyed many walks through the bustling city viewing memorials to heroes of our past while brushing shoulders with individuals who were working for a better today...and tomorrow.

While I enjoyed my job working for one of our country's biggest and most compassionate nonprofits, headquartered in the Capitol, it was also a stressful place to work. Along with the nobility of kindhearted staff and selfless volunteers came reminders of hard-felt struggles in the face of natural and man-made disasters.

The nearness of Shenandoah National Park provided me a well-needed and much appreciated respite from city life. The trip to the park's entry was less than two hours from the apartment my spouse and I shared. We typically visited the park on a Saturday or Sunday, leaving early in the morning to make the most of the day away. Often we'd pre-select a specific trail to hike, but sometimes we would drive leisurely into the mountains, waiting for inspiration to strike.

On one particularly crisp and sunny November morning, we meandered down the road from trailheads to overlooks, watching and waiting for Mother Nature to be our guide. She did not disappoint. Spotting a lone deer nibbling on a hillside slope, we pulled off and parked near a vast field.

We soon discovered that she wasn't, in fact, alone. After exiting the car and taking some quiet steps into the scene ourselves, our eyes were drawn to a beautiful buck. He was laying in a valley slowly chewing the autumn-hued grass while watching not only that doe several others who were grazing their way across the field and up the opposite hillside.

Seeing deer in the wild of the national treasure that is Shenandoah National Park was not a unique experience, I'm grateful to say. The challenge was to see which of them will remain calm enough to continue on with their own lives and tasks without being either spooked or overly interested in their human guests.

When seeking to photograph these beautiful vistas and especially their wild inhabitants, I had practice the adage "slow and steady wins the race," or in this case, "earns the image." I took my time to sweep the landscape with my lens, making images of the wide view as well as zooming in on the buck and his small harem.

We were not alone in stopping by this scene, but thankfully, the other folks enjoying the view had similarly hung back or were approaching judiciously so as to not disturb the wildlife.

Step by gradual step, I made my way to within several yards of the buck -- quietly clicking my shutter along the way. I remember my arms and shoulders were tense, anticipating that this magnificent specimen could (and quite possibly would) leap up and run at any moment, possibly charging towards me.

As I got closer, I lowered myself to the ground. Like a toddler on a shag living room rug, I crawled threw the dry mud and vegetation along the valley floor. I'd pause to make another image, fearing it would be the last before he bolted away, and crawl a little closer.

To my amazement, the buck's eyes scanned the field, watching me and his herd, but not moving -- save for his occasionally swishing tail, gnawing jaws, and blinking eyes. Occasionally, his head would bob down to scoop up more grassy brunch. Otherwise, he seemed to ignore any interlopers.

While I can't provide a specific distance, I would say that I ended up a little more than the width of a couch away from him on my hands and knees. Lifting myself up and holding my breath, from my knees I made several images of him with my modest telephoto lens, capturing him in the mid-morning light.

Far back nearer our car, my spouse stood with a point-and-shoot camera taking wide shots, absolutely gobsmacked not just at my nerve but at the animal's consummate repose.

After a sufficient amount of time and captured images, I left the way I came. First crawling on hand and knees, with one hand cradling my camera; then eventually returning to my feet. I backed up the hill to the car, continuing to watch these animals going about their daily lives, seemingly oblivious to the park's visitors spying on them from the roadside.

In the years since this encounter, I have made many more images of animals, both in the wild and in the nature-inspired habitats of zoos, sanctuaries, and aquariums. My photography as well as my stealth skills and camera gear have improved, yielding more technically correct and definitely pleasing shots of which I am proud.

That said, the camera can sometimes disconnect the photographer from the subject being photographed, muting the experience and blurring the memory. But this experience of crawling through the grass, quietly breathing the same air as this magnificent creature in his natural environment, remains as vivid in my mind as the photographs I took away with me. It is this clarity of both experience and image, which makes this one of my most treasured memories and wildlife photographs.