Category Archives: Photography

A Puffin Adventure 10 years Later

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Five Atlantic puffins standing on rocky coastal terrain with green vegetation, photographed on Machias Seal Island by Deb Neumann.

A Puffin Flashback Adventure

I fancy myself a wildlife photographer in my dreams. In my imagination, I’m off on Nat Geo expeditions, trekking through jungles and tundra, capturing rare animals in perfect light. Maybe I’m practicing for my next life, when I finally get to take great safaris to exotic places and photograph creatures in all their glory.

But in real life, I’m just regular old me — and yet there was one trip that did feel like a true adventure. One trip where I actually got to photograph amazing wildlife. Yes, they were birds… but very special birds. I got to see puffins.

You don’t find puffins in your neighbor’s backyard. You have to work for puffins, and believe me, I did.

Attempt #1: Eastern Egg Rock — Fog, Waves, and Bumblebees With Wings

My first attempt was a boat tour out of Bar Harbor, Maine, to Eastern Egg Rock in 2015. The entire trip was on a boat, and once we left the harbor, the ocean turned rough. As we neared the island, the fog rolled in — thick, cold, and absolutely relentless. A wet blanket in every sense.

But the puffins didn’t care. They were all around us, tiny little bumblebees with feathers. Round bodies, small wings, and yet these miniature sea birds spend most of the year at sea. They only come ashore during their breeding season, which in Maine is July.

I spent most of the trip flattened on the bow, trying to steady my camera with a 600mm lens while the boat rocked and rolled under me. The puffins were tiny specks in the distance, and most of my photos ended up soft or blurry. It was exhilarating — no question — but from a photography standpoint, it was more “experience” than “results.”

I was disappointed, but not defeated.

Attempt #2: Machias Seal Island — A True Adventure

I’d been a Mass Audubon member for years, mostly for access to their wildlife sanctuaries. Shortly after my Egg Rock trip, I heard about their annual July bird‑watching trip. I’d missed it in 2015, but I had almost a year to prepare for 2016 — if they held it again.

I became the biggest nuisance in the history of the local chapter. I called. I emailed. I checked in constantly. And when they finally announced the trip, I was the first person to sign up.

This trip was farther north, deep into the disputed waters between the Bay of Fundy and the Gulf of Maine. Machias Seal Island is jointly managed by the U.S. and Canada, and access is extremely limited. Most tours depart from New Brunswick, but there is one U.S. operator — and that’s who Audubon contracted with.

It was a true adventure‑style trip, the kind that stays with you. Cold weather even in July, rocking boats and tenders that made you hold onto your hat, and wildlife everywhere. Eagles overhead, seals on the rocks, and of course the puffins — those little clowns of the sea.

And although I didn’t get to witness it firsthand, the Bay of Fundy is home to the highest tides on earth, often reaching around 40 feet. Just knowing I was in a place with that kind of natural power added to the feeling of being somewhere wild and extraordinary.

The Crossing

We boarded the tiny boat at dawn for a very cold, rough, windy trip from Cutler, Maine. The crossing is about an hour — a very long hour when your seat is out in the open. The only warmth was in the wheelhouse, where the captain and mate stayed tucked away.

As soon as we reached the island, we saw birds everywhere: gannets, razorbills, and even a seal stranded high on a ledge, left behind by the receding tide. But the puffins ruled the day. They were everywhere.

Into the Blinds

Once off the rocking boat and into a tender, we were ferried to a long boardwalk that snaked up toward the lighthouse. The organizers assigned us to blinds — tiny wooden huts where we’d spend the next two hours. We couldn’t leave, and we could only open the windows on one side at a time. The restrictions were for the puffins’ comfort and safety, but even so, it was an incredible show.

Birds were landing on the roof of the blind. Their feet made strange scratching sounds  mixed with the thumps of thier landings. It was surreal. It would make a great horror sound track.

The puffins were in their courting colors — bright orange beaks and matching feet. They were beautiful. Clumsy little birds flying in with beaks full of shrimp and fish. Two hops and they disappeared into their rock burrows.

The time passed quickly, and too soon we were escorted back to our little boat for the long, cold trip to Cutler. It was even colder in the late afternoon, but as miserable as the weather was, I would repeat that trip in a heartbeat.

For those two hours, I really felt like a wildlife photographer — living my dream.

Ten Years Later

Machias Seal Island was 2016. Ten years ago. Audubon still runs puffin trips in July — mostly the gentler Eastern Egg Rock style ones — but Machias Seal Island remains the same rugged, wild adventure it’s always been. Tiny boats. Rocking tenders. Cold winds. A landing that requires balance, grit, and a good sense of humor.

And I’ll be honest: I’m not entirely sure I could manage the rocking boats and tenders now, ten years later. Even if I could I’d still have the climb to the lighthouse that nearly did me in 10 years ago.

But I’d sure like to try.

 

The Reality Behind the Shot- Wildlife Photography Tales

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A large brown bear moves through dense autumn foliage, its head visible among branches covered in bright orange leaves.

The Truth About Wildlife Photography (As Told by a T‑Shirt)

Red fox baby on MondayEvery once in a while, something comes along that perfectly sums up an entire hobby. For wildlife photography, it isn’t a dramatic eagle shot or a fox leaping through golden light — it’s a T‑shirt. A T‑shirt that insists photography is simply “being in the right place at the right time”… followed by a dozen more “right” things, from the lens to the batteries to the background to the angle. It’s funny because it’s true, and every wildlife photographer knows it.

Why This T‑Shirt Gets It Right

People love to say, “Wow, you must have been lucky to get that shot.” Luck plays a part, sure, but it’s the smallest slice of the pie. Wildlife photography is mostly patience, persistence, and a willingness to stand in uncomfortable places for long stretches of time while your subject does absolutely nothing. It’s waiting for the light to cooperate, adjusting settings on the fly, and hoping your batteries don’t die at the exact moment a squirrel finally decides to pose. (Click Here for my squirrel Story)

The wildlife itself adds a whole extra layer of unpredictability. Animals don’t care about your perfect composition or your carefully chosen lens. They wander off, turn around, hide behind rocks, or stare at you like you’re interrupting their day. Sometimes they give you the “I might charge you” look, and suddenly the shot doesn’t seem quite so important anymore.

And yet, we keep doing it. Because every once in a while, everything lines up — the light, the moment, the subject, the settings, the batteries, and your own stubborn determination. You get the shot that makes all the waiting, sweating, freezing, and gear‑lugging worth it. (Having the right gear is very helpful too)

That’s why this T‑shirt is so perfect. It doesn’t glamorize wildlife photography. It doesn’t pretend it’s easy. It simply tells the truth with a wink: it takes a whole lot more than being in the right place at the right time. It takes all the “right” things coming together at once — and a photographer who’s willing to chase them.

Disclosure:

Some links in this post are affiliate links. If you decide to buy something through them, I may receive a small commission — it helps support the site and my photography adventures, at no extra cost to you. Team Arounddustyroads thanks you

 

Lost in the Photo Mines: My Mid‑Summer Report from the Tagging Front

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A grid of small photo thumbnails from my digital photo library, showing a mix of desert landscapes with red rock formations, blue skies, and close‑up shots of colorful flowers and plants.

Checking In on My Mid‑Summer Projects

I’ve been plugging along, blogging my little heart out, sharing whatever thoughts drift through my head, and since we’re smack in the middle of summer, I figured it was a good time to stop and take stock. Have I made any progress on the projects I’ve been yammering about?

Six Months Deep Into the Great Photo Tagging Project

The biggest one, of course, is the Great Photo Tagging Project — and yes, I’m still at it. I may skip a day here and there, but I always come back like a determined little homing pigeon. I started this madness in March, which means I’ve been working on it for almost six months now. (Six months at the end of August, but who’s counting? Oh right… me.)

To keep myself from getting lost in the digital swamp, I’ve learned the magic trick: keep a log. My photos are organized by month and year, and each page holds 20 pictures. So if a month has 40 photos, that’s two pages to tag. Simple math, but it keeps me from wandering off into the weeds.

I started with the newest photos first, and any time I add a picture, I tag it right away. My once‑humble 10,000‑photo library has now ballooned to 11,700, and I’m currently working on April 2017 — a month in which I apparently lived with my camera glued to my face, because I added 149 photos.

The WordPress Tagging Surprise That Changed Everything

But then I discovered something the other day that made me want to flop onto the floor like a fainting Victorian heroine. I was searching for a photo I knew I had tagged… and it wasn’t coming up. After much stumbling, muttering, and clicking around like a confused raccoon, I finally found it.

That’s when I realized the problem: WordPress only searches the file name, not the tags I’ve been adding inside the media editor.

Which means — brace yourself — if I tagged a photo but didn’t also put that tag in the actual file name, WordPress won’t find it. The tag might as well be written on a sticky note taped to my monitor. Completely useless.

So here’s the rule I learned the hard way: I can add tags to the file name if I separate them with commas, and that’s the only way WordPress will recognize them in a search. All those beautiful, carefully chosen tags I added the “normal” way? WordPress politely ignores them like a cat ignoring a $40 toy in favor of the cardboard box.

Which means that once I finish tagging all 15 years, 180 months, and 11,700 photos… I’ll need to go back and refine the file names so the tags actually work. Because if the tag isn’t in the file name, WordPress pretends it doesn’t exist.

Now, WordPress updates constantly, so maybe someday they’ll give us a better filtering system. Or maybe I’ll get better at tagging. Either way, I’m not giving up. Even with my bungling, I can see a major improvement in my organization.

Tips for Anyone Tackling Their Own Photo Library Cleanup

So that’s my mid‑summer update. If I’ve inspired anyone else to tackle their photo library, I hope you’re having better luck than I am — or at least learning from my mistakes.

 

 

 

Here are a few tips I’ve picked up along the way:

  1. Put commas between tags in your file name.
  2. Make sure your tags match your file names. Add a general tag and a specific one (example: waterfall, Niagara Falls or birds, gulls).
  3. Track your progress. It keeps the overwhelm monster at bay.
  4. Take breaks. It took years to create the mess; it’ll take time to fix it.

Share your progress — and any tips — in the comments. I’d love to know if I’m the only Dummkopf lost in a photo‑archaeology dig, or if there are other brave souls out there with dust-covered digital archives of their own.

Sea lion holding a fish in its mouth near the water’s edge.

 

The One That Got Away: Why Wildlife Deserves Our Respect

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Two American bison lock horns in a grassy field during a head‑to‑head clash, their massive bodies braced in a show of strength. Morning light casts a warm glow across the dry grass, while other bison graze quietly in the background near a distant fence line.

A Hobby That Shapes My Travels

Good morning, folks.Red fox kit Monday afternoon

Today I’d like to talk about my hobby — photographing wildlife. Most of my vacations revolve around seeing or experiencing some kind of animal in its natural habitat, from elk in Wyoming to manta rays and whales in Hawaii. I get an incredible thrill from seeing these magnificent creatures (and yes, even the not‑so‑magnificent ones) in the wild instead of behind bars in a zoo.

And of course, once I see them, I try to get a picture. Why? Because without proof, my stories start sounding like fish tales — you know, the one that got away.

The Otters I Never Captured

Let me give you an example. I was walking a trail at Daniel Webster Sanctuary one late afternoon. I didn’t expect to see much until dusk, but I was headed toward a secluded meadow that often had deer in the early morning and late afternoon. The goal was  to be in place when they emerged.

The trail wandered past a pond mostly hidden by tall reeds. Suddenly, there was a commotion ahead and to my left. Three dark-coated animals came sliding down the bank beside the trail and bolted toward the water. I froze. I didn’t even lift the camera hanging around my neck. My brain was stuck on one question: What was that!?

As I came to my senses, I realized I’d missed a rare opportunity — three otters, right there in front of me. I didn’t know otters lived in that pond, and I certainly wasn’t ready for them. I tried to follow them, but the reeds were too thick.

Over the years, I’ve learned that when I tell this story, I’m met with skepticism. Without proof — and pictures are excellent proof — it remains just a tale. A vivid memory for me, but to others, it’s simply the one that got away.

Respecting Wildlife: The Heart of Today’s Post

Which brings me to today’s topic: treating wildlife with respect.

The photographers I admire most, like Thomas D. Mangelsen, carefully stalk their subjects. His breathtaking images come from patience and respect. He never encroaches on the animals he photographs.

Recently, there’s been a spate of reports of bison in Yellowstone attacking or goring tourists. Most of the time, it happens because the tourist didn’t give the animal space or respect. They broke the rules. I’ll admit from my own experience that sometimes things happen unexpectedly, but I’ve also watched tourists walk right up to these animals — camera in hand — trying to get a selfie. Not smart, dude.

When Humans Cross the Line

I once faced down a bear, and I was lucky. It wasn’t hungry that day. But if things had gone badly, it would have been my fault. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, when a human is injured, the animal is euthanized. We humans sure do love the death penalty.

These animals are only doing what they’ve done for eons — defending their young, their mates, their territory. We’re the ones infringing on them, yet when a human gets hurt, the animal pays the price.

Recently, I saw a video of a safari guide and his group of photographers standing close enough to a puma to reach out and touch her. The park had clear rules: give the animals room — 100 meters minimum. They ignored it. Most of the injured tourists at Yellowstone ignored it too.

A Final Word From the Field

As someone who has wandered fields and forests looking for animals to photograph, I can tell you: encounters happen. Many are fast and unexpected. But plenty of times, the encounter could have been handled better.

Safety first. Respect the animal. And remember — no photo is worth crossing a line that puts you or the wildlife at risk.

 

 

Aim High and Fail Big — My New Life Motto

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A black T‑shirt featuring a bold retro-style graphic with the motto “Aim High Fail Big,” including a rocket launch, mountains, stars, and playful illustrations of misadventures.The T‑Shirt That Sums Me Up

 

 I saw a phrase the other day that absolutely sums up my entire existence. I need it on a T‑shirt, a mug, maybe even a bumper sticker (if I still had a car).

Aim High and Fail Big.

Honestly? If there were Olympic medals for enthusiastic misfires, I’d have a shelf full of gold.

Never a Boring Moment

Looking back — which is allowed because I’m officially “old enough to reflect” — I can say with confidence that my life has been… let’s call it eventful. Not always successful, not always sensible, but never dull.

I’ve always believed life should be lived fully. Sometimes that means doing things that terrify me just to see what they’re like. Am I an adrenaline junkie? Not really. I draw the line at jumping out of planes. Zip‑lining looked fun, but my joints now file formal complaints if I even think about impact sports.

College: High Hopes, Low Follow‑Through

Let’s start with college. Before that, my parents kept me more or less contained. Then came freedom — and the 60s/70s. Flower children, protests, Kent State, the whole wild swirl.

By my rural upbringing standards, I was a Wild Child. In reality, I was just high on trying new things and low on studying. I dropped out after two years. Epic fail? Sure. But would I trade the fun? Absolutely not.

Early Career: Ambition Meets Chaos

Then came my early work years. I aimed high professionally… and also aimed high socially, because back then everyone partied like it was a competitive sport. No one reined me in, and I was determined to keep up.

I once went boating in a nor’easter. Yes, a nor’easter. No, I don’t recommend it. Yes, it was a rush.

Eventually I burned out like a candle in the wind. I drifted a bit before landing at a dance studio. I loved it. I had stage fright. Naturally, I bought a franchise.

Best years of my work life — until it wasn’t. I sold at a loss. Another spectacular fail. But oh, the stories.

Then came Comcast. Enough said.

Vacation Adventures: Still Aiming HighApproaching Grizzly

You’d think I’d have learned to dial it back. But no. Even on vacation, I’m still me.

Take the time I tried to get the perfect photo of a bear. Not a safe photo. Not a zoom‑lens photo. No, I wanted the epic shot — the kind National Geographic photographers get after three months in the wilderness and a signed waiver.

There I was, camera in hand, thinking, This is going to be amazing. Meanwhile the bear was thinking, Lady, I don’t even know you.

Did I get the photo? Absolutely not. Did I survive? Shockingly, yes. Did I fail big? Oh, in spectacular fashion. But I aimed high — and that’s the whole point.

Why I Love This Motto

My life has never been neat, tidy, or sensible. But it has been full — of adventures, misfires, detours, and stories that make people say, “You did WHAT?”

So yes, I want the T‑shirt. Because “Aim High and Fail Big” isn’t a warning. It’s a celebration.

It means you tried. It means you lived. It means you’ve got stories worth telling — even the ones where the bear wins.

Coming Full Circle

And after all the adventures — the nor’easter boating, the psychedelic college years, the dance‑studio detour, the bear‑photo fiasco, the helicopter thrill rides, and even that day I stood there grinning while holding a hawk like it was the most normal thing in the world — I figured I’d end this post with a little proof that I’ve always been this way.

Long before the adrenaline experiments, the questionable decisions, and the spectacular misfires, there was me, aiming high in the most literal way possible.

Pom‑poms. Pep. Arms in the air. Confidence for days. Absolutely no idea what was coming next.

Turns out I’ve been “Aim High, Fail Big” since the very beginning.