is a little too hot and humid for my taste so I find myself drawn to the far north and its interesting wildlife.”
“W hat are some of the other projects you’ve worked on other than this one?” Tia prompted.
“W e originally came to this region to photograph smaller creatures of southern Alaska to flesh out the book. I was actually photographing some bull moose when I heard about the mama grizzly.”
“We’ve got some mighty fine specimens of moose here,” stated Tia. “And, the grand daddy of all bull moose in the region is said to hang out near Crane Lake. He’s reported to be eight feet tall and weigh over thirteen hundred pounds. I’ve never seen him myself but personally observed some of his huge cousins at close to twelve hundred pounds in the vicinity of Bear Canyon.”
“Did you know that a bull moose can eat thirty pounds of wolf’s stems in one day?” said Jon smiling, warming to a subject he obviously enjoyed.
Steve wagged his head, amazed at the direction the conversation had taken. He liked animals alright, but preferred them in zoos.
“So what’s in all these bags?” asked Steve , hoping to change the subject.
“This one here has all my photography equi pment.”
Tia wandered into the front room as Jon knelt down and unzipped the top of the camera bag. He removed a large Canon camera with a huge telephoto lens.
“Wow!” exclaimed Tia, “that must have set you back a bit.”
“And it’s not my only one,” he said proudly. “I also have a wide angle lens and a more powerful telephoto for shots of smaller creatures. This is the one I prefer when I need some delicate close-ups of dangerous animals like the lynx, wolf, or bear. It’s best to keep my distance. I already have four rolls I need to take into Timberline. Jeff Adkins of the forestry service has a photo lab at his cabin and offered to let me develop my film. If any prints turn out to be book quality I’ll send the negatives down to Ben’s assistant, who lays them out in format. Ben then uses the photos to inspire his captions and propel the direction of the text.”
“Do you have any finished photographs we can look at?” asked Tia , really interested.
“I might have a few.” Jon moved to the other black case, which he unzipped. He gingerly removed an expensive video camera and a couple of large envelopes. Returning to the kitchen table he laid them out; spreading over thirty 5 x 7’s upon the pine table.
Tia picked out one. “Look at the horns on this moose,” she said , passing the photograph to Steve. The moose’s antlers were shedding and looked to weigh fifty pounds.
“It’s the rutting season,” said Jon, “and there ha ve been a lot of moose congregating near the lake, trying to entice some females. Ah, here’s one of my favorites.” Jon handed Tia a photo of the silky-haired lynx, Alaska’s only native cat.
“I just read an article in the paper about a lynx that went through a pet door on the outskirts of Seward,” said Tia. “That’s one great thing about Alaska; it doesn’t matter how big the city, nature is literally right at your doorstep.”
The next photos were of Sitka black-tailed deer. A lovely female of about one hundred pounds reached for berries delicately, using her nimble dark tongue. Jon had taken the shots in rapid succession, allowing the observer to actually visualize the doe twitching her tail, trying to keep the bugs at bay.
“An d here’s something you should recognize,” said Jon, handing her a photo of a healthy ptarmigan.
“H ere you go,” said Tia, showing Steve the photograph and smiling. “This is Alaska’s state bird.”
“It looks a lot like a quail,” commented Steve. “We’ve got tons of those in Washington State.”
“All I know is that they make mighty fine eating,” said Jon , scrutinizing Steve. “You should try some; they taste just like chicken.”
Tia laughed. “That’s right; the locals around here call it chicken since they
“W hat are some of the other projects you’ve worked on other than this one?” Tia prompted.
“W e originally came to this region to photograph smaller creatures of southern Alaska to flesh out the book. I was actually photographing some bull moose when I heard about the mama grizzly.”
“We’ve got some mighty fine specimens of moose here,” stated Tia. “And, the grand daddy of all bull moose in the region is said to hang out near Crane Lake. He’s reported to be eight feet tall and weigh over thirteen hundred pounds. I’ve never seen him myself but personally observed some of his huge cousins at close to twelve hundred pounds in the vicinity of Bear Canyon.”
“Did you know that a bull moose can eat thirty pounds of wolf’s stems in one day?” said Jon smiling, warming to a subject he obviously enjoyed.
Steve wagged his head, amazed at the direction the conversation had taken. He liked animals alright, but preferred them in zoos.
“So what’s in all these bags?” asked Steve , hoping to change the subject.
“This one here has all my photography equi pment.”
Tia wandered into the front room as Jon knelt down and unzipped the top of the camera bag. He removed a large Canon camera with a huge telephoto lens.
“Wow!” exclaimed Tia, “that must have set you back a bit.”
“And it’s not my only one,” he said proudly. “I also have a wide angle lens and a more powerful telephoto for shots of smaller creatures. This is the one I prefer when I need some delicate close-ups of dangerous animals like the lynx, wolf, or bear. It’s best to keep my distance. I already have four rolls I need to take into Timberline. Jeff Adkins of the forestry service has a photo lab at his cabin and offered to let me develop my film. If any prints turn out to be book quality I’ll send the negatives down to Ben’s assistant, who lays them out in format. Ben then uses the photos to inspire his captions and propel the direction of the text.”
“Do you have any finished photographs we can look at?” asked Tia , really interested.
“I might have a few.” Jon moved to the other black case, which he unzipped. He gingerly removed an expensive video camera and a couple of large envelopes. Returning to the kitchen table he laid them out; spreading over thirty 5 x 7’s upon the pine table.
Tia picked out one. “Look at the horns on this moose,” she said , passing the photograph to Steve. The moose’s antlers were shedding and looked to weigh fifty pounds.
“It’s the rutting season,” said Jon, “and there ha ve been a lot of moose congregating near the lake, trying to entice some females. Ah, here’s one of my favorites.” Jon handed Tia a photo of the silky-haired lynx, Alaska’s only native cat.
“I just read an article in the paper about a lynx that went through a pet door on the outskirts of Seward,” said Tia. “That’s one great thing about Alaska; it doesn’t matter how big the city, nature is literally right at your doorstep.”
The next photos were of Sitka black-tailed deer. A lovely female of about one hundred pounds reached for berries delicately, using her nimble dark tongue. Jon had taken the shots in rapid succession, allowing the observer to actually visualize the doe twitching her tail, trying to keep the bugs at bay.
“An d here’s something you should recognize,” said Jon, handing her a photo of a healthy ptarmigan.
“H ere you go,” said Tia, showing Steve the photograph and smiling. “This is Alaska’s state bird.”
“It looks a lot like a quail,” commented Steve. “We’ve got tons of those in Washington State.”
“All I know is that they make mighty fine eating,” said Jon , scrutinizing Steve. “You should try some; they taste just like chicken.”
Tia laughed. “That’s right; the locals around here call it chicken since they
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