Photography in the Parks
Nearly every day someone tells me that I have the dream job as a full-time wildlife photographer in Yellowstone National Park, but if they knew that a Dutch photographer nearly punched me out yesterday, when I was trying to assist a black bear in crossing the road on a blind curb, they might think again.
At this moment I am sitting in the forests fringing Yellowstone National Park in a blind, which is a camouflaged colored tent with windows that the camera lens fits through, hoping and praying that nine or ten little fox kits will come out and play. Or that their mother will return to the den with a fat juicy vole and teats filled with milk, because there is nothing like watching 10 babies running to greet mom.
Springtime is a great time to take photos in the national parks, but are you prepared for that task? Rebecca Latson has some suggestions for what you need to consider before heading off into the parks.
The first bright spot of spring in Yellowstone is the mountain bluebird when it returns to Lamar Valley where they come to feast upon the newly hatched caddisfly that is hopping around on top of the snow near the Lamar River.
When capturing those landscapes and wildlife images in a national park, don't forget to throw in a few macro-type shots for good measure. Contributing photographer Rebecca Latson demonstrates different ways to achieve these "super" close-ups.
It is March madness in Yellowstone. The weather is warming, the snow is melting, the rivers rising. The bluebirds have come back to town, and every once in awhile one might see a splash of intense blue flitting across the otherwise drab landscape.
The photographs you take while visiting a national park tell a story to your viewers, with or without accompanying words, as explained in this Big Bend tale by Rebecca Latson.
I am a natural born writer but did not realize my passion for story-telling until finding photography with which to illustrate my words. Personally, I don't see the point in telling a story if it can't be punctuated by images.
Of all the photos you've taken during your 2013 national park visits, do you have any particular favorites? Contributing photographer Rebecca Latson has chosen five of her own favorites and explains why they are favorites.
In early November of every year the gates are closed and the rest of Yellowstone National Park seems to cease its existence for six whole months.
How do you go about lining up a photo safari with a guide? Rebecca Latson shares some tips and insights to help you navigate what might seem like a cumbersome task.
For the past year, Deby Dixon and Rebecca Latson have collaborated to bring us two columns a month on how to get the best pictures during our national park adventures. While my photographic aspirations were dashed by their incredible photos, let's take a look back at their tips with hopes we can benefit from them in some way.
Recently a friend wrote to ask where I was spending the winter and when I replied, "Yellowstone," they appeared to be dumbfounded.
“Winter” is a relative term. For me, the word conjures images of snow and ice along with such adjectives as “crisp” and “stark.” Winter for others, however, can bring to mind sandy beaches and turquoise water or alligators and migrating birds along with adjectives such as “warm,” “hot,” “humid,” even “wet,” depending on one’s location within the National Park System.
At this time of year, winter waxes as fall wanes, so I thought it pertinent to now emphasize the concerns and rewards of winter photography, be it in the sub-zero temperatures of Yellowstone or along the balmy beaches of the Virgin Islands or the moss-carpeted downed tree trunks of Olympic National Park.
Is it unethical to photograph park wildlife from your car?
What goes into Rebecca Latson's camera bag? We asked her that, and other, questions, with hopes the answers will benefit us all.
Most people explore Acadia National Park by foot, pedal, or paddle. Contributing photographer Rebecca Latson is not like most people. She toured the park from the air...in a biplane!
For the most part, a visit to Katmai National Park and Preserve, Alaska, is going to be either for the sport fishing or the bear photography. Usually, not much is mentioned regarding landscape photography within the park. That being said, there *are* all sorts of landscape photo ops waiting to be captured within that amazing place.
As the harbinger of winter, the autumn season brings a sense of peace and introspection with its quiet isolation, broken only by the occasional haunting call of a bull elk. Crowds are fewer and dispersed. Colors are saturated. The air is clear and crisp. It’s these elements combined together that make fall my favorite season for photography.
Just because the sun sets on the Tetons doesn't mean you can't get some incredible night shots of the stars over Grand Teton National Park.
“Walk quickly!” the ranger urgently called out to the two of us as we were halfway across the floating bridge between Brooks Lodge and the Lower Platform. Without another word, my fellow photo tour attendee and I hefted our tripods with supertelephotos attached and “walked (very) quickly” across to the opposite gate nearest the platform before they closed down the bridge for a morning “bear jam.”
Katmai National Park and Preseve in Alaska tops the marquee when brown bears are mentioned, but there's another national park in Alaska that will surprise you with its bear-viewing opportunities.
It is July in Yellowstone. At the height of tourist season it is hot and dry and traffic is moving slow throughout the park, as visitors take their time meandering the roads, hoping to see a bear or a wolf along the way and hitting the brakes if they do spot some wildlife.
If there's an icon in the wild kingdom of Grand Teton National Park, it would be No. 399, a venerable grizzly sow known for her prolific breeding and trio of cubs in tow.
Of course I wanted to go to the Sun in Glacier National Park - the very idea of capturing everything between earth and sky, with my camera and lens, filled me with the same visions that I experienced as a child, when walking into a candy store to choose just one piece of chocolate. I wanted them all.