Tag Archives: Wyoming

Announcement !

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As you could tell by reading yesterday’s post I’m on my way to Yellowstone National Park. http://www.bigshotsnow.com/the-words-out/  to take pictures and boldly go where everybody else has gone before. Since my last visit I have increased the number of research vehicles here at the Institute by one, adding the Mothership, a 30′ fully articulated vessel similar to the Black ships that plied the Sea of Japan in the early 1700’s, but with color TV and a microwave, and a place to store cookies, she has now become the stately old grand dame of our fleet. Able to tow our shuttle craft, we are completely self-contained and able to stay out on our journey’s for weeks at a time.

I hope to be able to post more frequently on this trip due to the increased technology included in the Mothership with the addition of improvements such as a table to place my webernet connection device, electricity to power all of the incredible technology installed in the IT room, and a electric hot plate to make my tea in the morning. Without my tea nothing happens, nothing, so this is a very necessary improvement over the coal fires used in the Bokeh Maru.  As we will be touring the wilds of Montana, Wyoming and Idaho comfort and convenience are paramount. Our previous ship the Bokeh Maru has assumed other duties, although still remaining one of our principal vehicles in the exploration of the known universe, her role is to be more of a scout ship, used primarily for shorter forays. She will enter dry-dock for a D&C, or Dusting and Cleaning as it’s known in the trade, her reward for years of faithful service, then it will be back to work, hauling interns to projects, running down to the mailbox for the mail, and ferrying dignitaries up the hill to The Institute.

Now, having said I would post more frequently you must understand that this is still the 21st century and there are limitations at hand. There are unseen forces out there at work with nothing to do but bollix up our best laid plans and all that, so if I don’t post for a few days in a row do not freak. I’ll be bock. And if like in most or our explorations, where everything goes completely to hell in a hand basket, and I don’t post at all I’ll be back in a couple of weeks with stories to tell, adventures to relate, and clothes to wash. So wish us Bon voyage, steady winds at our backs, and remember, I’ll be thinking about you.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys Whatcha Gonna Do

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The Stallions at McCullough peaks in Wyoming are shown here in a rare moment of peacefulness but don’t let that fool you. Before you can say “Glue Factory” they’ll be back at each others throats again. Teeth gnashing, hooves striking, kicking, every dirty trick in the “Young Horses guide to Street Fighting” will be put to use.

If you look at the white spots on the side of Frazier there on the left and also on the legs of Tyson in the middle and of course Mr. Ali on the right who had the least number of scars visible but that’s because he is pretty and kept backing into the ropes and covering up. Those aren’t beauty marks. Those are bite marks. Bite marks that took out hair and hide and became permanent reminders that these bad boys play rough.

Why these guys are standing there not biting each other is a mystery. Especially Tyson, he’s really good at biting. The only answer could be that they were posing for the new Fight Club poster that will be put up at watering holes throughout the area.

This small break in the tension is so welcome by the herd, three mares had foals out of sheer surprise. This is a special event and every single member of the herd is taking full  advantage of the lull in the fighting. If you look in the background you can see horses standing quietly, reading, having a smoke, some even lying down. They know to take advantage of these times as they are very rare and short-lived.

When they were young foals or just out of foalburty they were known as Curly, Moe, and Larry. Then their true natures began to show and now they’re Frazier, Tyson and Mr. Ali or most commonly by everyone else in the herd, as simply the Bad Boys. Check them out, what with Spring coming on you probably won’t get the chance to see them this quiet again for a very long time.

Table For One Please

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We have been getting cards and letters lately bemoaning the wretched state of table manners in Yellowstone National Park. Many of you, and by many I’m saying, fives of ones of you, have taken it upon yourselves to write critical letters regarding this phenomenon.

We recently received this letter from one Tilda Flapondo of East Pimple, NJ. She writes

Dear Director, While recently visiting that miserable place in Wyoming they call Yellowstone National Park I have to comment on the deplorable state of decorum, especially in the table manners of the citizens of this uncouth, backwoods landfill, and their total disregard for the most rudimentary knowledge of dining amongst well-mannered people such as my family and I.

Not even mentioning that as you travel the narrow twisty roads which are filled with nothing but trite mountain scenery, overfilled rivers and streams and disgusting animals, there is not a decent salon where one can get their hair and nails done. Plus my daughter wants to get her tattoo re-inked and this has simply been impossible. We’ve been subjected to the indignities of watching these barbarians, one might even call them animals, partake of their meals, eating with their mouths open, dropping parts of their food around what should be a dining table and generally behaving as if they were from New York city. We felt like a group of discarded pubic hairs tossed out of the roadway of disregard, yes, we felt so disrespected.

What has happened to our country, when decent people such as we are so mistreated and our insensibilities ignored. I can only say we are disgusted and shan’t return. I will be writing my congresswoman as soon as I get home. You’ll be lucky if they don’t close this place down.

I remain,

Disenchanted in East Pimple, N.J. (exit 9)

Here is our considered response,

Dear Disenchanted, First let me say that I am terribly sorry that you had a less than stellar visit to the grandmother of all national parks and understand that you were disappointed. But I must ask you one question. Is it true that you live in a town named East Pimple, New Jersey? What the hell were you people thinking when you named that garden spot. East Pimple, my god, and you criticize the beauty in the west.

First and by no means last, we must take exception to your statement that our ‘animals’ as you call them, have no table manners. The image above shows that you don’t know whether you walked to work or wound your watch. This is a young grey wolf of the Better Table Manners clan dining alone at one of the tonier establishments along the Yellowstone river. He has selected a table for one and is leisurely dining on a delectable meal of dead buffalo. This is not an overly mannered young wolf. He is in fact typical, and feels quite badly that you have mis-characterized him and his pack mates in this fashion.

Our animal citizens have been put through a rigorous training program by Mother Nature and taught good table manners in spite of your opinion. Our wolf packs tend to dine in areas set back away from the roadside and our grizzlies will often take a young elk or buffalo calf they are dismembering into the brush to consume it out of sight of our more squeamish visitors.

As a lesson in public relations we have circulated your letter amongst the different groups mentioned and to an individual they have decided that they would like to have you and your family for dinner. This is a rare honor and one I would hope you would take them up on at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your comments and please, don’t hesitate to visit us again.

I remain, The Director of The Institute, an organization dedicated to the protection and preservation of the images and reputation of our western cultures, heritage and traditions.

As always we want your cards and letters and your comments are always welcome. Rest assured that we will do our utmost to answer any questions or concerns to the best of our abilities. Remember, we are The Institute and we’re here to help.

A Murmuration

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Lately there has been an explosion of news on the major networks, NBC and CNN to name just two, about murmurations. Well two rather small announcements actually, one very visible and the other I sort of had to hunt around for. But when was the last time you heard anything about murmurations at all. Been a donkey’s age hasn’t it. One murmuration was in Israel and the other was in England, where they go absolutely nuts about anything birds do.

So what is a murmuration you might ask, well according to Wiktionary it is as follows,

murmuration (plural murmurations)

  1. An act or instance of murmuring. (I know, that really helps doesn’t it.)
  2. A flock of Starlings.

What it appears to be in real life, is a huge flock of birds, usually starlings but can be other kinds too. This flock photographed at Bosque del Apache wildlife refuge, is made up of mostly red-winged blackbirds. They gather together in extra-humongous numbers that apparently makes them kind of nuts or something, as they will all take off and fly around aimlessly but enthusiastically, until one of them decides to land, then they all land at once and make noise. This is repeated endlessly.

There are supposedly many scientific studies that explains why they do this. Money has been spent and mans hours accrued by these scientists watching these birds to figure this stuff out. They say that they have figured out why there is this nutso behavior and have published their findings in some awfully prestigious publications. I looked at one and all I can say is it made my brain hurt, your mileage may vary. If you really have to know what they said, Google murmuration – expensive scientific studies, and it’ll tell you more than you ever wanted to know.

Of course our scientific community here at *The Institute has already figured this all out and we didn’t bill the government doodley-squat in American dollars. We sent a team out to look at them, those red-winged blackbirds, take some pictures, kind a talk amongst themselves for a while, go to lunch, take a short nap after lunch, come back out, check them out one more time and come home. Total cost about 12 bucks for hamburgers at McDonald’s, which we fronted out of our own pockets thank you very much.

 Our conclusions were a little different from the scientific types and as we chose to use American, as spoken by everybody on TV as our language, this makes our report a little simpler to understand. Here it is in a nutshell.

These birds are not your average run of the mill dummies. Yeah some of them may look goofy but they’re not. They learn by watching and when they see one of their neighbors grab a seed out of the dirt or find a worm or something they pay attention. They are also greedy by nature and want that worm or seed for themselves so they go right over there and try to take it away from that guy. All of these birds in one place at once, squabbling over a bug causes a commotion, and some of the other birds and it only takes one, freak, jump up into the air and that tears it. Now they all jump into the air and being paranoid figure that the other guy knows where the better food is and they are not going to let him out of their sight for a second.

Hence the flying around in perfect unison. They pack so tightly together that nobody in the middle can even see anything so the guy on the bottom of that murmuration gets a chance to see something, like a juicy bug down there in the weeds, and goes for it. When that happens the result is everybody dives for the ground and you get ‘murmuration’. One of our observers came up with the thought that they fly so close together because they totally believe the guy next to him knows where he’s going, when the truth is not one of all those birds, and we’re talking like, thousands, have a clue. Yes, it creates pretty patterns in the sky but it is not a display of higher intelligence.

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Murmuration is said to be derived from an old English word or medieval Latin, ‘murmuratio’, the meaning of which supposedly sounds like the murmuring of a crowd from the sound the huge flocks of starlings make as they form at dusk, back then when it was medieval. Well it does if the crowd is making a screechy, raspy, squawky noise similar to fingernails on a blackboard and you have a hangover. But since this word ‘murmuratio’ comes from old English who even back then really liked all things birds, they probably thought it sounded beautiful. To each his own. Just remember these English guys medieval or not, like warm beer and eggs fried to the point of incineration. Just sayin’.

Murmuration is a world-wide event that the media is trying to play up as a special thing that only happens in exotic places like Europe and the Middle east but nothing could be further from the truth. We’re having murmurations all over the place right here in the USA. This one was in New Mexico, we saw one up in Wyoming of Franklin gulls visiting for  a day that put on a great show, and that was just a bird squawk above the state line from Colorado.

I hope we’ve taken some of the mystery out of Murmurations and helped you to understand one of Nature’s little quirks before you get led astray by expensive and some say unreliable studies even if they get on TV. As always if you have any questions about this subject or anything else for that matter, call us, drop us a line, we’re from The Institute and we’re here to help.

*Note: For those of you unfamiliar with The Institute and what it does, please see the page labeled The Institute on the Menu Bar above. That should explain everything. You shouldn’t have one single question remaining regarding The Institute after reading it. None. For those of you favored few who already know about the Institute, Never mind. Return to your daily activities. Thank you for your support.

Following the Storm

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Hutton lake up in Wyoming is one of those places that depending on what time of the day or year you view it will determine how you feel about it. During the day it is fairly plain and nondescript with few distinguishing features other than the wildlife and birds that are there for various reasons. The light levels are harsh during mid-day and the vegetation is sparse and low-lying. The birds that you find here are usually passing through to somewhere else, as this is a stopover for many migratory flocks.

The mammals that frequent this area, such as Antelope, coyotes, and prairie dogs are seen more often when some natural event takes place, such as when the antelope drop their calves in the spring. Coyotes are there because they’re everywhere and being opportunistic, take advantage of the food supply as it changes through the seasons. Nobody knows why the prairie dogs are there, one day one shows up and before long they’re all there. The Redtail hawks don’t mind their squatting however, especially when the young unwary prairie dogs are out and playing too far from their burrows.

The low rolling hills that surround the lake continue on until they bump up against the mountains or continue in the opposite direction eastward until they reach Nebraska or any other of the middle kingdom states that claim they have prairie. The wind blows across the hills and lakes endlessly until you find yourself developing a semi-permanent list to one side depending on which direction you’re walking.

But there are moments of unsurpassing beauty here too. When a storm is imminent the wind will kick up into nearly gale force conditions, then suddenly stop, allowing deep dark clouds to roll in close to the earth. So close you feel like you could reach up and touch them. Then the rains will come. Not often but every once in a while there is no rain just the clouds and you, and the view to the horizon. There may be lightning then, but not always. It gets very dark, even in the middle of the day, and ominous thoughts can crowd into your mind. This isn’t a place for the timid.

These conditions can be found in the early spring when this place is reawakening from its winter imprisonment. It’s as if this storm is it flexing its muscles and stretching after a long troubled sleep. The image above was taken in early April around 6:30 pm and it was one of the rainless storms. The wind had been fearsome through the late afternoon and the clouds rolling in kept getting lower and it appeared that soon there would be no space left between the clouds and the earth for humans. It looked to be time to pack it in. To go someplace warm and maybe have supper. Then suddenly the winds dropped as often happens, and in the stillness of the early evening, the sun finally broke through the clouds to illuminate the lake with a golden reflection of the sunset, and a plain somewhat forbidding place was turned into a golden paradise, if only for a moment.

That’s part of the draw of this country, an everyday occurrence can turn into an adventure at the drop of a hat. All you have to do is stand your ground even when it feels like you should be running away for all your worth. The payoff is often golden.

Color Encroachment

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There is a growing problem here in the West. You don’t hear much about it in the media because there are powerful influential groups that profit by it, and by powerful I mean the entire states of Wyoming, Montana, Utah, Arizona, Arizona is a particularly bad offender, New Mexico, and yes, parts of Colorado. The problem is color encroachment.

Color encroachment is an insidious problem that insinuates itself into your experience of the west in many ways. For instance, lets say you are driving along one of the back roads in any of the afore-mentioned states, gazing occasionally at the  bland, unremarkable scenery passing by, all grays and tans and pale washed out, bluish tints of the sky, when out of the corner of your eye you notice a small seemingly insignificant amount of color creeping into view. It may just be a lighter shade of tan with a hint of yellow in it amongst the roadside vegetation. Or perhaps a reddish hue to the distant rock faces and a deeper purple-ish color to the low-lying mountains off in the distance. Then you come around a corner and it smacks you right in the face.

Incredible shades of indigo blue and deep purple, rose-colored hillsides and brilliant greens of trees next to lesser shades of yellow and pale oranges in the grasses, the deep earth tones of fences and boulders. This is color encroachment. This is raw elemental color and it is right in your face. This new spectrum of color doesn’t stay safely away in the distance, it comes right down to the roadside threatening to spill out right into your path. The dangers are obvious. Black tire marks on the pavement as vehicles screech to a stop. Burned private parts from the spilled coffee of unaware drivers who become GobSmacked by the sudden sight of this massive color change. Digital cameras of all types filled to the brim with the ones and zeros of abused pixels. The list goes on and on.

There have even been traffic accidents caused by this massive influx of color, none fatally so far, but it’s a real possibility that it could happen in  the future. Many of the states have begun to take steps to control color encroachment but so far it has been too little, too late. Wyoming for instance has started fencing in much of its color as you can see by the image above. This has helped a little but since the color can be overwhelming to those visitors who have never experienced it before, it isn’t enough. Utah and the main violator Arizona have begun running public service ads warning the unwary and first time visitors to their states about the dangers of color encroachment, but there is a powerful lobby of resort owners, tourist orientated businesses and the auto repair industry trying to keep these to a minimum, shown only late at night after the info commercials, and they are pressing fiercely to do away with them altogether.

What has been recommended by the various auto travelers associations to combat color encroachment, has been to prepare yourself before you leave on that trip of a lifetime, by looking closely at old copies of Arizona magazine, watch the various videos and documentaries that show the wonders and colors of the west and practice placing contrasting but harmonious colors on a sheet of paper with a selection of magic markers. This will go a long way towards making your trip a safe one and still allow you to look at the colors of the ever-changing scenery.

Following those few simple suggestions will get you there to that colorful wilderness you long for and bring you back again safely without harm.  And remember to pay attention to those signs posted along the highway saying, “Drowsy drivers cause accidents”.  When they should really say “Drowsy drivers fall asleep, run off the road and scream out over the cliff onto the canyon floor miles below much like Thelma and Louise. Don’t do that.” They haven’t posted the “Beware of Color Encroachment” or “Color Encroachment Ahead” signs yet but prepared drivers have them in the forefront of their minds as they drive the beautiful but colorful highways and byways on the West. Remember, Be Safe and as they say out here “Vaya con Juevos”.

Big Hats revisited

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To celebrate our 500th post on BigShotsNow we are republishing some of our more popular posts. This post first appeared on January 19th 2014. If you have any suggestions of previous posts you’d like to see again drop a note to dlutsey@enchantedpixels.com and we’ll try and honor that request. This is a request from a long time reader and we’re more than happy to fulfill it. Thanks BR.

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I was returning home from a late spring shoot in Yellowstone, traveling the back roads of Wyoming taking in the scenery, and found myself on a stretch of two-lane highway that went on, straight as an arrow, for miles. It was that part of Wyoming that a lot of people find completely devoid of anything interesting to look at. Even boring perhaps. I don’t because I like the way being able to see for miles and miles makes me feel. It feels like you’re the first one to see this country even though you aren’t of course, but the feeling of all that space and you’re the only one in it feeds my sense of adventure.

The country is made up of low rolling hills, sparse vegetation, and sand. Lots of sand. To the uninitiated it would seem impossible to make a living out here or even sustain life for that matter, but they would be wrong. Scattered along this highway to nowhere there are small ranches, mysterious trailers sitting way out in the middle of nowhere, no wires leading to them, no signs of life except for the tire tracks leading up to them, fairly well used tire tracks. Every once in a while there will be a break in the fence with a dirt road leading off into the distance heading towards who knows where, until finally going over one of those low hills towards what, home maybe. To mark that this country is inhabited there is often a mailbox leaning up against the fence post by the cattle guard and occasionally the red flag would be up but I didn’t see that very often.

This is a place where you can drive for a long time without meeting another car and any movement can be seen for miles if you’re watching. And you need to be watching and not sleeping which is really easy to do if you stare at the road ahead too long. It seems like the view doesn’t change for hours and if you’re not careful you will find you have traveled for quite some time and you have no memory of what you just passed through. Hopefully your autopilot was on and you were in that phase I call the Sun-blind Lion phase and not asleep. That’s where there is a huge amount of activity going on behind your eyes in the farther back part of your brain that you use for planning stuff while you’re semi-conscious and driving. It’s where you can build an entire house stick by stick in your minds eye while your regular non-goofy part of your brain handles the mechanics of driving while you’re busy elsewhere. Either way it is disconcerting to suddenly be aware of traveling at a high rate of speed and realizing you weren’t aware. That’s why you look all over the place. You watch for birds, trying to figure out if that black speck out there near the horizon is a raven or a golden eagle or even a buzzard. Long minutes of intense concentration help eat up the miles. It’s always a raven, by the way. But the thought that it might be the eagle keeps you awake and that’s the whole point of this anyway.

Cresting a hill I could see way off in the distance a shape that wasn’t the normal next to the highway kind of shape. I always keep one of my cameras on the passenger seat in case I need it and it is set to the prevailing light conditions, turned on and ready to go. As I drew nearer I saw that it was two boys heading home or at least I thought it was their home as there was a cluster of low-lying buildings with corrals, an old pickup sitting there, a few kind of dusty and somewhat used looking cows standing nearby, and the general appearance of people living there real regular. I hadn’t passed another place for miles, I don’t know where these kids were coming from but it was clear they were going home. It must have been a kind of ritzy place as it had not only electric wires leading to it but a phone line as well and almost all of the fence posts were upright and the wire looked tight. Those are pretty sure signs this is a place where folks live full time.

I knew right off that they were professional cowboys as they didn’t use a saddle. Amateurs and city kids got to have a saddle. Plus their hats, It is a hard and fast rule that a cowboy kid growing up cannot have a hat that fits them until they’re at least 16 and then they must have knocked down one of their uncles in a fair fight before they’re allowed to choose the one they’ll have until they get married. This is a cowboy law and seldom broken. Besides it is a badge of honor and a sure sign of unspoken love to have and wear the hat your dad doesn’t need anymore. It means you belong to a family and they care about you. It doesn’t matter that you have to put Kleenex in the hat band to make it fit. It’s a grown up hat. I’ve heard of some of these hats being passed down through several generations until they finally wind up hanging on hooks next to a treasured family picture. An heirloom now that shows traditions need to be honored.

I knew I only had a chance for one or two pictures before they heard me coming and looked around. That would change the very character of the image I wanted so I rolled down the window and took a few shots as I coasted up to them. The wind was blowing up pretty good as it does two or three times a year in Wyoming so they didn’t hear the truck until I pulled up next to them. I was right, they both turned to look and the whole image changed. They were nearly as surprised as I was to find another living soul out here so we both tentatively waved at each other and they turned down their lane towards home and I pointed the truck south and did the same.

I don’t normally photograph people. I’m more comfortable out in the field shooting wildlife and landscapes, but every once in a while that perfect shot comes along and I can’t pass it up. That’s the way it was with “Big Hats- Heading Home”.