This past winter I had a chance to photograph a Great Gray Owl for an extended period of time.  The experience – while incredible – made it clear that my wildlife photography game is not where I want it to be.  If the owl was perched in a tree I did fine, but when faced with more dynamic, higher-difficulty shots – like catching the owl in flight – I struggled.  My friends Nick and Jort also spent a lot of time photographing the owl, and they were definitely operating at a higher level.

All kinds of factors play a role in getting good shots.  Raw talent, obviously, makes a huge difference, and there’s not much I can do to change that.  But almost everything else can be addressed.  Patience, persistence, creativity, knowledge of wildlife behavior, gear, camera settings, processing techniques – all potential improvement areas.  I recently made the lowest-effort change when I upgraded my gear.  I’m not foolish enough to expect a better camera to solve every problem, but the Sony A1 I bought in August does make it much easier to catch birds in flight and other fast-moving wildlife.

An opportunity to test my shiny new A1 came up in early September when Nick invited me to tag along on one of his Great Gray Owl hikes.  Nick has spent countless hours searching the Greater Yellowstone backcountry for owls, and at this point I think he knows as much about their behavior and how to find them as any local expert (including Silver Gate’s own Dan Hartman).

Nick and I started hiking before sunrise and almost immediately went off-trail into prime Great Gray Owl territory – a series of grassy meadows bordered by dense forest.  Nick had been watching a Great Gray Owl family in the area for a while, and first we checked the spots where he’d seen two juveniles the day before.  If the juveniles were around, Nick explained, we’d hear them calling out to their father to be fed.  But there was no sign of them.

 

 

We continued our search, eventually covering more than 10 miles.  Just as I was resigning myself to the possibility that I was a bad-luck charm, Nick spotted a Great Gray Owl perched on a tree branch.  “It’s the father,” Nick said.  “He was hunting right around here yesterday afternoon.”

By this point it was midday, when Great Gray Owls tend to be less active.  We waited for almost two hours while the owl rested in the same tree.  Eventually he flew to a few different perches, but he didn’t seem interested in hunting.  At one point the owl soared right towards me, so close that if I reached out I could have touched his wing, but I completely missed the photo opportunity.

 

 

I didn’t manage to get a single good in-flight shot that day, but it was amazing to spend so much time with a Great Gray.  And watching owls with Nick is always a learning experience, both in terms of the owl’s behavior as well as ideas for improving my photos.

A couple days later, back in my normal routine, I started my morning with the short hike to Trout Lake.  The ducks I normally see on the lake weren’t around, which struck me as a little suspicious.  A careful scan of the shoreline revealed the cause of the missing ducks:  the otter couple!  It had been over a month since I’d seen otters at Trout Lake.

 

 

I sat down on the bridge that spans the outlet creek and watched as the otters caught and ate a good-sized fish.  Occasionally they ventured into the vegetation-covered area surrounding the mouth of the creek, very near where I was sitting.  And then suddenly one of the otters popped up on a log directly beside me, no more than a few feet away.  I froze – it was too close for my camera, and regardless I was worried that if I moved I’d scare it away.  The otter peered at me curiously for almost a full minute before slipping silently back into the water.  I could hardly believe it.  One of my favorite otter encounters of all time.

 

 

 

 

Two weeks after finding the otters I was back up at Trout Lake again at sunrise.  I didn’t see any notable wildlife as I walked around the lake, but soon after I crossed the bridge over the inlet creek a surprisingly loud wailing sound erupted from the hills behind me, the frequency so deep I felt it resonating in my chest.  I turned to see a bull moose galloping full speed after a cow moose.  The cow, bellowing fiercely in protest as she ran, was the source of the unusual noise.

 

 

The cow raced down to the lake and temporarily escaped the bull by wading into the water.  The amorous bull, frustrated, paced nearby.  Under normal circumstances I would have felt comfortable with my distance from the moose, but I wasn’t sure how to read a rutting bull.  He had the unnerving habit of standing perfectly still for several minutes before suddenly breaking into a full sprint.  I backed off even more.

 

 

When the cow finally left the water the bull immediately chased her across the creek, stampeding directly towards me.  I thought I might have to jump in the water myself, but thankfully both moose veered to the left and headed up the hill, towards Buck Lake and out of sight.  It took a while for my heart to stop racing.

 

 

 

Hiking back up to Trout Lake a few days later I came across a bull moose about 25 yards off the trail.  As I stood there trying to figure out if he was the same bull I’d seen earlier, the sound of a cow moose’s plaintive bellow rose up from the creek below.  Sure enough, it was the same couple.  This guy was just not giving up.

 

 

 

 

At the end of September Nick was kind enough to let me tag along on another Great Gray Owl hike.  Our neighbors Jill and Greg, both birders, had never seen a Great Gray before, so I was really hoping they could join us.  Jill, unfortunately, had a conflict, but Greg was good to go.  He and I left Silver Gate in the pre-dawn dark and met Nick just before sunrise.  This time there was no suspense:  before we even parked our cars Nick had already spotted a Great Gray from the road.  We hiked out and quickly located the owl – a father with three juveniles nearby, according to Nick – hunting in a meadow.  This time I finally captured some decent in-flight shots.

 

 

 

 

For hours we watched the owl father hunting.  Eventually we found all three of his kids in the trees bordering the meadow.  At least one of the juveniles could already hunt for itself, and we watched as it caught a rodent and swallowed it whole.  What an incredible morning.  I’m really not sure how it could have been any better.  (Well, with one exception…  Not long after starting our hike Greg broke through an ice-covered pool and soaked both his feet, which, given that the air temperature was around 25F, had to have been a little chilly).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At midday, when the owls tend to be less active, we took a break for lunch and then returned for round two in the mid-afternoon.  Nick quickly found the juveniles again, and about an hour before sunset we had another chance to watch the father hunting.  At one point the father flew straight towards Greg, landed in a small pine tree just a few feet away, and calmly posed as Greg captured the whole scene on his phone.  A perfect way to end the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

While I still missed a heart-breaking number of Great-Gray-in-flight photos that day, I’m really happy with what I managed to capture, and – thanks to my new camera and extremely helpful advice from Nick – I think I’m genuinely improving.  Above and beyond photography, it was special to have those kinds of encounters with a creature as unique as the Great Gray Owl, and equally special to be there for Greg’s first sighting.  We owe a major debt of gratitude to Nick, whose expertise and generosity made it possible!