When the Words Wander
Some mornings the words just pour out of me, and other mornings — like today — they wander off to do their own thing. I sat down wanting to write about a picture of a squirrel. Just a little gray squirrel. Nothing dramatic. But nature has a way of turning simple moments into something special.
A Squirrel in the Morning Light
It was early. The cats had dragged me out of bed, and I was opening the blinds over the sliders to the deck. The sun was just coming up, the air crisp and soft in that way only early morning can be. And that’s when I saw him.
He wasn’t racing along the fence or scrambling up a tree. He was perched perfectly still on top of an old tree stump — one of those storm‑fallen trees that had been trimmed back for safety. It made the perfect pedestal. The rising sun lit him from behind, turning his tail into a glowing halo. Whether you like squirrels or not, you had to appreciate that pristine moment.
The Scramble for the Camera
He was too far for a phone shot, so I reached for my Nikon. One quick look at the settings and… no battery. Of course. I dug into the camera bag, found my spare, and swapped it in. I haven’t used that camera in a couple of years, but muscle memory kicked right in. I was sure I’d missed the moment — but no. My little friend was still there, still posing. I got one shot off, and then he was gone, down the stump and into the brush. Banner wound around my feet, completely uninterested in the tiny drama unfolding outside.
Why Nature Photography Hooks Me
But that’s nature photography. Woodland creatures don’t care if they look fat or skinny or if they’re smiling. They don’t pose. They don’t wait. They just go on doing their little woodland things. That’s what makes it fun — and challenging.
The Ones That Get Away
I’ve had so many moments like that. At the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in Marshfield, I’ve seen turtles, deer, birds… and once, three otters ran right across the path in front of me and dove into the pond. No picture, just a perfect memory. That’s how it goes. In nature, the moment happens fast and often without warning. I rarely catch those surprise encounters — they’re over before my brain even registers them.
The Rare Gifts
Then there are the rare gifts. Like the time I was driving a dirt road in Wyoming and came upon a little bear in a tree, happily eating berries. He didn’t care that he had an audience. I got my shot that day.
The Long-Awaited Moments
And then there are the moments you wait years for. I went on whale watches every year from the mid‑70s on — Massachusetts, Alaska, Hawaii. Decades of trips. But I never saw a whale breach until just a few years ago. First a baby humpback in Hawaii, then an adult off Cape Cod. And once I finally saw one, it was like the universe opened the floodgates. Suddenly I was seeing breaches everywhere — and because I was ready, I finally captured one of my favorite photos.
Why I Keep Picking Up the Camera
I have so many stories like that — some with pictures to show for them, some that live only in my memory. But every one of them is a wonderful little interaction with the natural world. And that’s why I keep picking up the camera.
Every place has its invasive species.
we’d get one big burst of chaos and then peace. But no. They operate like they’re on alternating shifts, ensuring continuous, rolling noise pollution from dawn to dusk. It’s like living next to a construction site that never actually builds anything — just revs, blows, grinds, and growls for the sheer joy of it.
Clowns of the Forest and Field