MOOSE
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It was a shot that almost didn’t happen. There was a group of us that had spent the sunset hours waiting and watching at a likely spot for moose to show. It was peak fall colour time and Algonquin’s beloved favourite beasts were on the move throughout the park. This particular location was off the beaten path, picturesque, and generally a good bet. Sure enough, a family appeared a little up the road at sunset and grazed leisurely along the edge. We all raced into position and shuttered away until they disappeared into the woods heading west. It was getting dark and with no sign of them breaking out into the open again, everyone left. I was in no hurry to call it a day so I stuck around to enjoy the quiet. Then way off in the distance I spotted the telltale dark shapes moving slowly across the clearing. It was uneven ground so they dipped in and out of sight behind the tall meadow grass but I could tell it was the same cow, calf, and bull from earlier. I added the extender to my flash setup then steadied my rig as best as possible. Shooting a moving target in low light at 75 yards was a hail-mary shot at best. And the chance of it ending up being a “keeper” was a long shot – literally. But I lucked out: The distance and the lighting that made it such a challenge were also the elements that made it a success.
Wet & Wild So… I’m standing ankle deep in the mud along the edge of this marsh huddling under my little homemade camera cover. All afternoon it’s been a steady, sleety, in and out of snowy, cold rain. My face has been jammed up against the viewfinder for over an hour, waiting for this handsome young bull to shake the freezing rain off his drenched coat … again. He did it not five minutes after I started shooting and I caught the whole thing. It was perfect: heads up, facing me directly, lots of spray, focused, and a good exposure. A beautiful sight; like a dog shaking, only in slow motion because of moose mass. Knew I had a great shot but couldn’t leave with just one. He was still there and if the temp kept dropping I could get some big ol’ fat snowflakes that would spice up the shot. A half later we’re both still there and I’ve got him doing it four times. It’s been one of those – okay, okay, next one is the last one for sure and then I’m done - scenarios. But it’s not getting any snowier, my back is getting stiff, the bottom half of me is getting soaked, I’m getting cold, and, I know I’ve already got the perfect shot. I leave. Figure I’ll come back the next week if I hear he’s still around. Turns out he was. But… he’d dropped one of his antlers. Once again, timing proves to be everything.
You never know. A photographer friend and I were scouting the usual roadside areas around Algonquin Park when we chanced upon this mother and calf. It was Labour Day weekend, no one was seeing much wildlife – including us, and so we were glad to finally find something. We parked on the shoulder along with a few others that were already there and picked a spot to shoot from. I’ve learned the hard way to always try to get a shot ASAP in case my subject leaves. Once I’ve got something in the can, then I’ll take a look around and consider other vantage points and possibilities. But even when I move, I try to be ready to shoot because you can never predict what or when something will happen. I had just finished making such a location adjustment when the cow suddenly turned and looked down at her calf who then reached up for a little nuzzle. I held the trigger down and shot until they separated. If focus and exposure were good I knew I had a sweet moment. Then I looked for my friend to see how he faired. He didn’t. Unfortunately he had decided to move his car closer to where we were standing and missed it. Been there. Done that. Sure I’ll do it again – but not this time.
I missed it. It was a challenge to follow the moose as she moved across the meadow drifting in and out of clear view. The tangles of branches kept grabbing the focus and I had to keep shifting positions in deep snow to stay alongside her. Eventually she moved so deep into the woods that I had to let her go. I was hoping for something more interesting than just a cow in the snow, but other than a few peek-a-boo poses from scattered clearings I didn’t think I’d gotten any good photos. It was only later in the evening while editing, that I discovered the beautiful abstract pattern created by the branches silhouetted against her dark fur. Even if I had just been watching rather than concentrating on shooting it’s unlikely I would have seen the effect. A perfect example of the power of the still.
This fall I opted to do Algonquin park over several weekends rather than an extended stay. I’d leave home on Saturday at 4:00 in the morning to get up in time for first light, spend the night and return home Sunday evening. I had god luck seeing moose every trip. But by late fall the moose move deeper into the park and after one trip of seeing nothing I called an end to moose hunting season. … Until it snowed. Then I raced back up hoping to catch one last glimpse of one last moose in first snow. It started out perfect. The park was covered in a foot of freshly fallen snow and I practically had the whole place to myself. As I drove into the park a bull charged onto the road. Though he disappeared as soon as he saw me stop, it was looking good. But it wasn’t. I never saw so much as a rabbit track. I tried all my favorite spots, staked out a few places hiding in the snow under camo. Practiced my moose calling. Nothing. I was totally skunked. Nonetheless it was beautiful and quiet, and I milked the day for every drop of solitude and sunlight. I headed home in the dark and I was midway through the park when I saw a car up ahead pulled off to the side of the road. Always a good sign, though I wished it had come with some daylight. As I approached I could see the bull behind the tree line – even less light back there. The other car gave up and left me alone with him. I could see he was a young bull and didn’t mind company. He ambled about feeding, occasionally glancing toward me, but I could barley pull focus and didn’t really have a good shot. Then he popped his head through the brush, appeared to glare at me, then disappeared into the dark. But not before I was able to focus in on the snow dusting his head
FALL GLANCE
