I brake for turtles.
Early on in my then still nascent shooting career, I
understood I'd never be a wildlife photographer.
It wasn't that I couldn't, necessarily. It was that I
wouldn't. Too many complications stood in the way.
In essence, I'd have needed to uproot my entire life to
legitimately chase that dream. No wildlife on the prairie to speak of, back then.
Little buggers, mostly.
And of course birds. Which no matter what size or location are damned fast and generally required
specialized gear to do really well.
Stinkin' birds know you're there before you do.
Plus, I already knew Heather. That settled that.
So as with other youthful dreams, 'northwoods wildlife
photographer' went in the bin.
Right on top of "I want to be a field herpetologist when I
grow up."
Just because I'd prudently surrendered a frail dream doesn't mean
I ignored opportunity on the wing.
But wildlife capture became strictly a crime of opportunity,
not a goal. After the Linhof, I rarely if ever did it at all.
Meanwhile, my eye wandered in the woods while I happily continued to take what what came.
Repeat failure piled high.
I learned to look with fresh eyes at the real world through a lens.
Necessity became the mother of creative invention.
But as ever, I continued to brake for turtles...
