© Everet D. Regal 6/12/18 It’s mid-morning in the Great Smoky Mountains. The sun is squeezing the last drops of moisture from the lush vegetation, while my t-shirt eagerly soaks it up, like a sponge. Flies are buzzing around my head, reminding me to apply insect repellent to my shirt and hat, as I scan the inside of my Jeep, in an attempt to choose what I need to carry and what will be left behind.
Selection of gear always creates tension, as I try to determine what I might encounter in any particular area. On one hand, I never want to be without the proper piece of camera equipment to best capture a moment that may present itself, but on the other hand, every item, regardless of size, steals a little piece of the joy from simply hiking free from the added burden of weight and hand restrictions, as well as the ever present concern of losing something along the trail.
With my main weapon slung over my shoulder, water bottle, reading glasses, towel, snacks stuffed into my pockets, it’s time to lock up the Jeep and head off on my hunt.
It’s less than 20 steps to get my first glimpse over the embankment that hides my view, but the steep, sharply cut bank that separates the gravel road, from the open field above, is guarded by a single strand of barbed wire that forces me to collapse my body, fold my legs and thrust myself up and under, all the while trying to shove the 20 lbs of tripod/camera combination up in front of me, as a counterbalance to my body as I push forward. This may seem like a insignificant obstacle, but with a 60 year old pair of legs, and the somewhat diminished flexibility of my youth, it has its challenges. I’ve yet to fall or drop any gear during this initial limbo trick, but more than once, coming or going, I’ve had to stop, place my tripod legs on the ground and retrieve the hat that was snatched from my head.
I have a extensive view now and take a moment to scan the field and wood-line for any wildlife that may be present. A coyote walking the mowed fence-line, looks back over his shoulder, just long enough to allow me a glimpse, before darting into the high grass, while a low, gliding Northern Harrier sails just above the field, far off in the distance. Both are in search of the same prey to fill their bellies. I anxiously make my way through the almost shoulder high, wet weeds, toward the wooded area that I plan to hike. It’s only 100 feet or so, but by the time I clear the other side, I’m soaked with dew, covered with a variety of seeds, stick-tights and a few unsuspecting insects that were swept up in my bullish push through their overnight resting place.
I’ve almost reached the wooded area and appear to be alone, so I stop briefly to towel off my arms and legs and do a quick check and adjustment settings on my camera. If an opportunity should present itself, I always want to be as prepared as I possibly can, to capture a moment that often only lasts seconds or even fractions of a second and rarely provides time for camera adjustments.
I’ve walked this favored area many times in the past. Entering the woods, immediately my body reacts to the coolness of the shade. My hairs tingle and dance, as the heat from the direct sun, just moments ago, is quickly whisked from my skin, replacing the warmth with a cool chill. It’s a welcome adjustment and one of the many characteristics that lure me back to this favorite stretch of acreage.
My movement is now relaxed, but steady. There really are no laden trails, so my hikes through this section, rarely follow previous footsteps. I like that! I twist and turn, avoiding large hanging branches, sidestepping oversized stones, avoiding damage to fragile growth on the forest floor and doing my best to avoid as many face-wrapping spider webs as possible. Caution is required in this area, as history has left behind many remaining strings of barbed wire, mostly hidden by undergrowth at ankle height or below. In an attempt to lay claim and force control over domain and livestock, this evil invention by man stretches millions of miles across our country and has left just as many animals injured, maimed or left to die, when they encountered these death lines. It has no bias and will just a quickly tear through the skin of a human or leave them planted face first on the ground. Barbed wire may have tamed the west, but at an unimaginable cost of life and suffering, that continues even today.
Straddling a crotch-high log, I take a moment to sit. It’s dead silent, except for a Pileated Woodpecker in the distance, banging away, reaping the benefits of one of the many dead trees, that hold important food and nutrition that sustain and replenish the forest. I look carefully in every direction, trying to separate the endless shapes, shades and colors from the stare of watchful eyes. I recognize that I am always at a huge disadvantage, to the far superior senses of any animals that may be near and choose to remain undetected. Nothing catches my eye, so I continue along, enjoying the solitude and silence of my quiet journey.
Approaching a bordering field that marks the end of this wooded section, turkeys bob and weave, as they stretch their necks to see who is coming. I can hear their gurgling gobbles, as they communicate my presence to each other. They quickly scatter off into the woods, but I anticipate they will be waiting in the same spot, when I make my return. They always are.
I follow the forest as it opens up to my left. Here, massive oak trees stand tall, blocking out the sky, as they have done for hundreds of years. Their wide, rugged trunks, hold scraggly branches, high above my sightline, allowing for views deep into the forest to where the fir trees create a dark, tightly knit backdrop. The sky is blue through the many patches created by the leaves, but the sunlight is filtered, leaving the forest shaded with soft shadows. A shallow stream, carrying little water in June, guards its wide banks with thick, gooey mud, while generously offering a deep narrow cut, in one area, providing exposed roots and a well placed rock to welcome passage by the occasional wanderer. I’m happy to oblige.
Crossing the creek, I made my way along the soft, spongy earth, finding an inviting spot to sit and simply enjoy the space. As always, I first place and level my tripod, and check my camera settings, but then I clear my mind and soak it in. Photography is often my motivation for exploration, leading me away from the manufactured world of man, but it should never rob me of the experience of simply being out in nature. I try not to forget that, as I take in the sights, the sounds and the smells. My mind drifts away, imagining what once was or what might be. Far too many photographers will drive hundreds of miles, hiking to a vista point, just to capture a photo of a sunrise, pack up and scramble back to their vehicles, without actually experiencing or feeling the place they visited. Photography can be an amazing tool for holding on to a memory or capturing a moment in time, but in this new digital world, it seems to be replacing people’s ability to enjoy the moment.
After the better part of an hour had passed, I was well rested and had resisted the urge to be succumbed into a nap. The sun was now high in the sky, I had devoured my snacks and it was time to retrace my steps back to the Jeep. I had enjoyed every minute of my hike in, but was somewhat discouraged that I hadn’t taken a single photograph to this point. If there is one thing I’ve learned, the odds of seeing wildlife are just as likely on your way out, as they were on your way in. In fact, I believe there are many animals who tend to follow your trail, to find out who or what is in their territory.
Crossing the creek and working my way back through the oaks, I reached the darker, dense part of woods, passing by the turkeys, as I had anticipated earlier. Climbing back over the same, large log I had crossed on my way in, I was startled by the huge eyes of a small group of white-tailed deer who had remained motionless and allowed me to approach within 30 feet or so. As close as I was, I had not seen them until that moment, but once I did, I turned my eyes and head away, as not to make further eye contact and spook them. I slowly brought my tripod from my shoulder, set up, leveled and carefully rotated my camera in their direction. I was pleased I had not spooked them and they soon went back to browsing and nibbling away at the tender branches surrounding them, while I watched and took photos. Eventually, I moved on slowly as they remained exactly where I had first encountered them. It’s a very satisfying feeling to observe and photograph wildlife, without influencing them or changing their behavior.
I was pleased to have captured some shots, but there was still more to come! With about 75% of my hike behind me, I wasn’t that far from reaching the Jeep. There was a bright spot far in the distance and combined with movement, it caught my eye. A bear! Wow! At this point, I had pretty much given up hope for a bear, and from his activity, it didn’t appear that he was aware of me; yet! From this distance it looked like he was grazing and also tugging chunks off fallen logs, looking for insects. He was way too far to even attempt pictures, so now carrying my tripod vertical, with legs spread for a quick stance, I very slowly moved a bit at a time, keeping trees between him and I, as much as possible. Whenever the bear was facing away from me or had his head down, I would advance. I would guess that I had almost cut my distance in half, before he finally looked up and stared right at me. With my settings already adjusted and my tripod vertical, I was able to instantly set it down and capture those first few seconds. Those are the seconds where both animal and human, carefully decipher the situation and decide exactly what they are going to do. Friend or foe? I don’t know if an animal’s heart rate rises when they first see me, but I know that mine always does and when it’s a bear, it goes up quickly! I love the intensity of his stare, as he stood motionless with his complete focus on me. After a short time, he went back to what he was doing, occasionally lifting his head to recheck my whereabouts.
After allowing him to be comfortable, I casually moved along, not wanting to disturb him. The area he was in was thick and there were very few chances of taking any photos or even seeing him, so there was no point in remaining there. To pass by him, I would have to get quite close as I made my way around, but there was no other way to go. Even when I was really close, he never came out of the thick brush, but I could occasionally see movement or hear the thump of a huge log, as he lifted it and it slammed to the ground. He was busy finding his lunch and by now I was eager to do the same.
Finding my way back to the Jeep, I enjoyed a bottle of cold water, recalled the details and pleasure of the past few hours, and went off to find a shady rest to enjoy some lunch. My time in nature and my hunt was successful. I shot several beautiful animals, had a wonderful experience observing them in their natural habitat, and left them alive to live their lives and to maybe be enjoyed another day. It really doesn’t get any better than that.