It was fun, at first. I found that I pretty much had the wetlands and woods to myself, I knew where to go to find the most variety of species along the east coast of central Florida, and I took a couple of trips northward, along the Appalachian Trail and into New York State, that beefed up my count.
What I enjoyed most on those early mornings in the wetlands and the woods and the mountains was the solitude, the peace and quiet, and the communion with Earth and all her creatures. On occasion, there were others out there with me (birders or photographers intent on quests of their own), but I was always able to find a subject that seemed to interest only me or a place in which I was the only one "hunting" the birds.
My count, by birding standards, isn't that high, but I'll bet that among amateur bird photographers, it's pretty darned good. (There are a couple duplicate species in the set, but they are either illustrations of the differences between juvenile/adults or breeding/non-breeding plumage.) So, I'm satisfied with what I have accomplished, as the year comes to a close.
However, somewhere along the way, maybe August, maybe September, I began to notice something different in the field: increasingly, there seemed to be more people showing up in the wild (or at least in prime birding locations)! What had been, last January, a pleasant encounter with an acquaintance here or an impromptu walk with a friend there, suddenly became a constant struggle against a steady stream of people and cameras and cars in some of the most special and quiet and peaceful places I knew. Men and then women began carrying gi-normous lenses . . . 2 or 3 feet long . . . lenses that required, for most users, a tripod, which meant that there were traffic jams on dirt roads and battles for position when a desirable species showed up doing something wonderful . . . meetups with more than a dozen photographers (some literally dragging suitcases behind them to carry all their Canons and Nikons and Tamrons and tripods and flashes. (For god's sake, it's nature, not a studio!) . . . and an unrelenting sense that it was becoming more about showmanship than about guardianship. And that the birds, themselves, and the environment, itself, might end up suffering most. (Yes, when more people use the land, we are more likely to fund its "preservation," but to what end, I ask you, when the most plentiful species in the area is Homo sapiens?)
So, for next year, I'm setting myself a new challenge: to find the most peaceful, beautiful, quiet, and undiscovered places that I can. A few photos will accompany my blog on each location I find. I will not tell you where I've been. My photos will not be geotagged. I will not compete with you to get the best shot. This will be about showing you what's out there that says we are still in touch with the goddess . . . mother earth . . . Gaea . . . god . . . and that she can still provide all that we need.
Namasté.
See you in 2012, when the name of this blog will be changing . . .
