The Wary Eyed Grazer

We sat upon a small knoll overlooking the lands of Yellowstone National Park. It was a cool spring day. The snow began to melt. The land still wet. The day was young. All we had was time. Two brothers in heart but not in blood venturing in to the wilds of Wyoming. Then we heard it. The sound of hooves. Many hooves. Tromping across the land.

Off trail we went to start the day, wondering where the best perch would be. The best view without a post hole plunder to reach the summit of the snowcapped mountains that surrounded the valley where bison, elk, and wolves were known to roam. We were near slough creek. Just across the river and a couple miles down the road.

We treaded off trail in order to stay away from the crowds. Yellowstone is known for international travelers who know little about the natural world. We were both from Montana and starting to see the intricacies of societies web. Breaking us both. Inspiring us more.

We sat and chatted about life. We chatted about our world and our inner struggles as we smoked a small joint to calm the mind of the turmoil that loomed in societies shadow which began to present itself to our young minds. We had climbed a small knoll, at moments, needing all fours to scurry up loose rock that slipped beneath the tread of the bottom of our boots. Then we heard it. The sound of hooves. Many hooves. Tromping across the land. It sounded like some kind of heard. We stood up to gather awareness of our surroundings. What was it? A herd of bison? A herd of elk?

It was neither bison or elk but a herd of ewes and lambs. Big Horn Sheep. About fifteen of them plodding across the same ground we just ambled. They came close. We joked about the fact that wildlife loves the joint but our government can’t quite get the picture. We must be doing something right. We laughed at the thought as the ewes and lambs approached slowly and warily. They came within twenty feet, staring at us with bulging eyes aware of any sudden movement wherever their bodies roamed. I grabbed my camera slowly. It’s not too often I find myself in the perfect place and the perfect moment to capture the perfect photo. I knelt down and focused the lens. Click. I captured the beauty of these beings as they grazed among the few grasses which protruded through the rocks and soils of the knoll we now shared.

The camera I had, not the best. It was the beginning of my love for photography and I hadn’t put in the effort to buy a high quality camera and lens yet. That would come later. For now, it was a small cannon. No ability to change lens. Just a digital zoom connected to the one lens. It was the beginning of a love. I didn’t need to zoom much for this shot. Just a touch.

This was ten years ago about. I went in and out of photography and videography. I came back to the love of the camera as it helps one come to presence. At least it has for me. I look back on my photos and remember the love I have of nature. I come to gratitude as I adjust the clarity, add color, and darken the light. The clarity sharpens the hairs on the shoulders of this young beauty and brings out the large brown eye focused on the two they share the hilltop with. The color, enhancing the contrast of sky and ewe. The light, binging the contrast to perfect uniform. I play around with the idea of color or black and white. I have a love for black and white. This photo however calls for color. The blue back drop of the brown eyed big horn as she looks in to the camera as if aware I was capturing the moment. Color it is.