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"Ponderosa Moonset." The crescent moon sets behind an ancient ponderosa pine tree. How many moons has this tree witnessed? Behind the lens. There are worse ways to spend one's nights than watching the moonset over "Lost Trail National Wildlife Refuge." The refuge is a peaceful valley in northwestern Montana, about 40 miles west of Kalispell, not too far from where Tracy and I live. Creating this photograph meant spending two nights sitting out in the grassy hillside above Dahl Lake. On the first night, the moon failed to cooperate and set in the wrong location, just missing the tree. So I returned the next night, learning from my mistakes and adjusting my camera location accordingly. Low clouds moving in and out meant changing my aperature settings every couple of minutes, until the sky finally cleared around 2 AM. Then I could sit back and enjoy the deer feeding below me, the bats feeding above, and the occassional odd duck quack. Not a bad way to spend a midsummer's night...
"Lake McDonald Pearls." The reflection in Lake McDonald makes a pearl necklace out of the moon’s path across the sky, from moonrise to moonset. I started this photograph at about 11 PM and finished around 4 AM. Behind the lens. This is one of our most technically challenging photographs. On the previous night, I was photographing the moonset from the other side of Lake McDonald. Standing on the gravel beach, in the silent glow of a full moon, I studied the moon's path and then stared across the lake. Back to the moon, then back across the lake. Over and over. Suddenly, this image appeared in my head. You know what that meant -- I had to return the following night and stay awake AGAIN if I hoped to create this image before the weather forecast brought wind and the surface reflection was lost. I showed up early the following evening, took my compass readings, and set up my gear. A handful of tourists overcame their shyness to ask why I was sitting there next to my camera but not taking photos. I tried my best to describe the moonbow that I hoped would happen later that night -- a scene that I had never actually seen anywhere but inside my head. Most of the people I talked to nodded politely and at least pretended to comprehend my challenged description. "You mean you have to stay up all night?!" Yes, I said, knowing just how strange I must have seemed to them. But for this photograph, strange was worth it...
"Chief Mountain Moonrise." A full moon clears the horizon and rises silently past Chief Mountain, on the east side of Glacier National Park, Montana. Behind the lens. Many years ago, I photographed the full moon rising behind Chief Mountain. The image didn't justify the reallife event, so I mulled it over. And over. Almost twenty years later, I finally created this image of the same celestial event. For me, this photograph begins to hint at the mysterious way that we respond to certain locations, like Chief Mountain. Finally, after all these years, this image begins to do justice to the mountain that is a sacred site to the Blackfeet Indians.
"Many Moons Ago." The moon's path across the sky changes every night. Here the moon's changing path is captured from a single camera location on five consecutive August nights. On the fifth night, I also photographed the sunset from the same camera position. Behind the lens. This was an incredibly difficult image to create. The weather forecast called for five days of clear skies (very unusual here), starting on the night of the full moon. I set a sturdy tripod on a friend's deck, and planned the image. Each night, every five minutes, I took three moon images -- one dark, one light and one normal. On the fifth night, at sunset, I asked Tracy to canoe across the lake. I then selected the best moon exposures for each night, assembled the moonbows, and layered in the canoe image. So this image literally started as many hundreds of photographs, all taken from a single point. The end result is a five-night long exposure that captures an inspiring celestial event.
"Many Moons Ago." The moon's path across the sky changes every night. Here the moon's changing path is captured from a single camera location on five consecutive August nights. On the fifth night, I also photographed the sunset from the same camera position. Behind the lens. This was an incredibly difficult image to create. The weather forecast called for five days of clear skies (very unusual here), starting on the night of the full moon. I set a sturdy tripod on a friend's deck, and planned the image. Each night, every five minutes, I took three moon images -- one dark, one light and one normal. On the fifth night, at sunset, I asked Tracy to canoe across the lake. I then selected the best moon exposures for each night, assembled the moonbows, and layered in the canoe image. So this image literally started as many hundreds of photographs, all taken from a single point. The end result is a five-night long exposure that captures an inspiring celestial event.
"Lake McDonald Pearls." The reflection in Lake McDonald makes a pearl necklace out of the moon’s path across the sky, from moonrise to moonset. I started this photograph at about 11 PM and finished around 4 AM. Behind the lens. This is one of our most technically challenging photographs. On the previous night, I was photographing the moonset from the other side of Lake McDonald. Standing on the gravel beach, in the silent glow of a full moon, I studied the moon's path and then stared across the lake. Back to the moon, then back across the lake. Over and over. Suddenly, this image appeared in my head. You know what that meant -- I had to return the following night and stay awake AGAIN if I hoped to create this image before the weather forecast brought wind and the surface reflection was lost. I showed up early the following evening, took my compass readings, and set up my gear. A handful of tourists overcame their shyness to ask why I was sitting there next to my camera but not taking photos. I tried my best to describe the moonbow that I hoped would happen later that night -- a scene that I had never actually seen anywhere but inside my head. Most of the people I talked to nodded politely and at least pretended to comprehend my challenged description. "You mean you have to stay up all night?!" Yes, I said, knowing just how strange I must have seemed to them. But for this photograph, strange was worth it...
"Chief Mountain Moonrise." A full moon clears the horizon and rises silently past Chief Mountain, on the east side of Glacier National Park, Montana. Behind the lens. Many years ago, I photographed the full moon rising behind Chief Mountain. The image didn't justify the reallife event, so I mulled it over. And over. Almost twenty years later, I finally created this image of the same celestial event. For me, this photograph begins to hint at the mysterious way that we respond to certain locations, like Chief Mountain. Finally, after all these years, this image begins to do justice to the mountain that is a sacred site to the Blackfeet Indians.
"Eagle Talons." A Bald Eagle catches a fish from a small Montana lake. The progression is shown in 0.2 second intervals, and from beginning to end is 0.8 (eight tenths) of a second. (Note cards available here.) Behind the lens. As a biologist, I spent years monitoring Bald Eagles in Glacier National Park. I've seen Eagles catch fish and ducks many times, but it always happens so fast that I can never tell exactly how they do it. So I imagined this sequential photograph for a long time, in the back of my mind, before I was actually able to document the event with a camera. Like most birds, Eagles fly with their feet and legs held tight to the body for aerodynamic reasons. As they stoop on a prey item, the legs rotate forward and the talons extend, hitting the fish with force and locking down. As they start to fly away, they'll often turn the fish around head-first, again, for aerodynamic reasons. It's a beautiful sequence that's been perfected by countless generations of Bald Eagles -- and it happens in the blink of an eye.
"Eagle Talons."

A Bald Eagle catches a fish from a small Montana lake. The progression is shown in 0.2 second intervals, and from beginning to end is 0.8 (eight tenths) of a second. (Note cards available here.)

Behind the lens.

As a biologist, I spent years monitoring Bald Eagles in Glacier National Park. I've seen Eagles catch fish and ducks many times, but it always happens so fast that I can never tell exactly how they do it. So I imagined this sequential photograph for a long time, in the back of my mind, before I was actually able to document the event with a camera.

Like most birds, Eagles fly with their feet and legs held tight to the body for aerodynamic reasons. As they stoop on a prey item, the legs rotate forward and the talons extend, hitting the fish with force and locking down. As they start to fly away, they'll often turn the fish around head-first, again, for aerodynamic reasons. It's a beautiful sequence that's been perfected by countless generations of Bald Eagles -- and it happens in the blink of an eye.
A Bald Eagle catches a fish from a small Montana lake. The progression is shown in 0.2 second intervals, and from beginning to end is 0.8 (eight tenths) of a second. (Note cards available here.) Behind the lens. As a biologist, I spent years monitoring Bald Eagles in Glacier National Park. I've seen Eagles catch fish and ducks many times, but it always happens so fast that I can never tell exactly how they do it. So I imagined this sequential photograph for a long time, in the back of my mind, before I was actually able to document the event with a camera. Like most birds, Eagles fly with their feet and legs held tight to the body for aerodynamic reasons. As they stoop on a prey item, the legs rotate forward and the talons extend, hitting the fish with force and locking down. As they start to fly away, they'll often turn the fish around head-first, again, for aerodynamic reasons. It's a beautiful sequence that's been perfected by countless generations of Bald Eagles -- and it happens in the blink of an eye." href="javascript:openLB(568001816,'',XLarge,'',1024,683);">"Eagle Talons." A Bald Eagle catches a fish from a small Montana lake. The progression is shown in 0.2 second intervals, and from beginning to end is 0.8 (eight tenths) of a second. (Note cards available here.) Behind the lens. As a biologist, I spent years monitoring Bald Eagles in Glacier National Park. I've seen Eagles catch fish and ducks many times, but it always happens so fast that I can never tell exactly how they do it. So I imagined this sequential photograph for a long time, in the back of my mind, before I was actually able to document the event with a camera. Like most birds, Eagles fly with their feet and legs held tight to the body for aerodynamic reasons. As they stoop on a prey item, the legs rotate forward and the talons extend, hitting the fish with force and locking down. As they start to fly away, they'll often turn the fish around head-first, again, for aerodynamic reasons. It's a beautiful sequence that's been perfected by countless generations of Bald Eagles -- and it happens in the blink of an eye.
"Eagle Talons."

A Bald Eagle catches a fish from a small Montana lake. The progression is shown in 0.2 second intervals, and from beginning to end is 0.8 (eight tenths) of a second. (Note cards available here.)

Behind the lens.

As a biologist, I spent years monitoring Bald Eagles in Glacier National Park. I've seen Eagles catch fish and ducks many times, but it always happens so fast that I can never tell exactly how they do it. So I imagined this sequential photograph for a long time, in the back of my mind, before I was actually able to document the event with a camera.

Like most birds, Eagles fly with their feet and legs held tight to the body for aerodynamic reasons. As they stoop on a prey item, the legs rotate forward and the talons extend, hitting the fish with force and locking down. As they start to fly away, they'll often turn the fish around head-first, again, for aerodynamic reasons. It's a beautiful sequence that's been perfected by countless generations of Bald Eagles -- and it happens in the blink of an eye.
See photo in original gallery.
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