rmnphotographer-tours

Bright, Yellow Eyes

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 21:13:27 GMT

Great Horned Owl are Like Magnets to My Camera

The big, bold, and bright yellow eyes of a Great Horned Owl are like magnets to my camera. Taking their picture is capturing not only the eyes but looking into the soul of these large raptors. While the eyes attract me, the texture and color of their feathers make them a beautiful bird to photograph.

I captured my first Great Horned Owl images right here in Estes Park. While the smaller male sat in a nearby tree watching guard, the female spent time in the heart-shaped nest hole of a ponderosa pine tending to her three owlets. To see the owlets peaking from the tree’s heart-shaped nest was a daily thrill as I captured the owlet’s growth.

One morning, all alone at the tree, I photographed two of the owlets branching. They hopped, climbed and fluttered, testing their wings for flight. Then, one young, brave owlet flapped her wings, took a leap of faith and flew for the first time. Landing in a nearby pine, her yellow eyes were offset by the beautiful brown and gray of her feathers surrounded by the deep green pine needles.

Two years ago, wintering in Clearwater Beach, FL, there were two nests. Nests may be the wrong word because Great Horned Owls do not build nests. Instead, they take over abandoned nests from other large birds or they might use tree cavities or rocky ledges. Not building contractors, they are renters.

]In Florida, I found one nest in the cavity of three branches forking outward. One morning, a brave young owlet ventured out onto a high branch moving toward where her mother was perched.

I photographed her adventure as she wattled and hopped high on the branch like a Flying Wallenda, eventually reaching her mother. When she did, the mother bent down, nuzzling her baby in a show of tender love. It was a precious moment of affection.

My favorite nest was in a palm tree along the Gulf of Mexico. The tree had died, the palm fronds broken away, leaving a flat top for the owls to perch. On my first visit, I watched the owlets tucked under the feathers of their mother. Protected from the elements, their downy feathers and yellow eyes peeking out in curiosity.

A few weeks later, a monsoon of March brought torrential rains for three straight days. I worried about the owlets, exposed on top of a frondless, dead palm tree being plummeted by 72 hours of driving, violent rain.

On the fourth day, the rains broke and the sky was a rich, tropical blue. I headed out early to check on the owlets. I feared they had succumbed or been knocked from the tree top, falling to the ground where they would be vulnerable to the attacks of mature raptors, hungry bobcats, or the massive jaws of a Florida alligator.

Thankfully, I found them alive and well as they sat on top of the palm waiting for my arrival. As I set my camera, they watched me. Their fluffy, soft, downy feathers had begun their transition to their juvenile plumage, the “in–between” feathers before their adult plumage developed.

Once I focused my camera, their curiosity grew, and they stood, one behind the other. Their bright, yellow eyes watched my every move. I was relieved by their hearty nature and the healthy presence of their monsoon survival.

One of my favorite Great Horned Owl images was captured at the entrance to Bear Lake Road in RMNP. It was the moment of dawn as I moved by the Kiosk getting a welcoming nod from the smiling ranger. As I greeted her, I saw a flash of movement pass by my car. Looking up, an owl opened its wings, slowing to a floating landing on the remains of a ponderosa pine.

Pulling over, the light was low, the image difficult to capture, but I am a photographer. So I photographed the owl, working my settings to adapt to the challenges of low light.

When I got home and put the images on my computer, I was thrilled. There on the tall trunk of a wind broken tree sat the beautiful, mature Great Horned Owl. The background of the image was an abstract of greens creating an image like soft, rippling watercolors.

This year, I have already found a nest with the mother tending to her eggs. As I visit from a respectful distance, I will watch the owlets turn from insulating natal down to their dark, spiky pin feathers and into their juvenile plumage. It is then, they will leap bravely into the world of adult raptors, flapping their wings as they fledge into freedom beyond the nest.

Whale of a Tale

Thu, 05 Mar 2026 19:09:29 GMT

Bucket List - Photograph Humpback Whales

I don’t necessarily have a bucket list. So much of what would have been on it was the reward of moving to Estes Park and photographing the wildlife that surrounds us. Still, if I had a bucket list, photographing humpback whales would be on it.

Their smoothness flowing through the Pacific Ocean, the massive tale with water rolling off like the antlers of an impressive bull moose as it feeds in Sheep Lakes, and the 50 foot breach…I wanted to see that 40 ton monster rise up out of the blue ocean to splash down with a hurricane inspired surge.

When Carolyn and I sought a winter escape from the wind and cold, we chose Puerto Vallarta, MX because of the humpback whales. The whales winter in the Bay of Banderas to mate, give birth, and nurse their calves in warm, sheltered waters.

In researching the area, I ran across Tagalong Excursions ( thewhalesofpuertovallarta.com ). Not a tour, but photographers who let you ride along for a very reasonable fee, and photograph beside them. The owners, Larry and Krissy Bennett are originally from Grand Junction, CO, and Larry has been impressively photographing whales for twenty years.

Turns out, Larry was a great guy, and immediately we hit it off. Riding on a small boat out into the 150 feet deep waters of the bay, I told him my goal was to capture four photographs that people would “ohh” and “ahh” over. Larry just smiled.

Once out in the ocean, we soon spotted a cow and calf, the new born humpback weighing approximately one ton, twice the size of a full grown Colorado Shiras bull moose.

We watched as their blowholes shot water into the air. Larry educated me. Only males breach and sing. Females protect their babies, and usually have another female with them. The second female is ready to breed, so she attracts the male whale.

As if on cue, more whales appeared, and the action started. First one breached launching his body upward and out of the water. Then another, each landing with mighty splashes sending the boat into rollercoaster action. I quickly realized with their massive size, the whales rose slowly up in a way that allowed me to watch, spot, focus and shoot as they entertained us with their powerful jumps.

Excited that I was seeing the classic humpback whale actions of the Pacific Life Insurance commercial, I captured the flop, fins up, as it crashed onto its back. Then a bird flew by, and I tracked it in “servo mode.” As I did, a monster humpback jumped, rising up as if to snag the bird for dinner. The bird veered away, and the whale smashed back into the salty waters.

My wife, Carolyn, scouted from the bow of the boat like a mermaid adorning a pirate ship ready to yell, “There she blows.” Her hands high in the air loving life, the sun and blue sky brought brightness to her day. From behind, I watched her celebrating knowing that one year ago she had been bald, weakened by the intense wrath of weekly chemo treatments.

Then, seconds later right before us, a massive humpback burst upward. My camera was quick, and luckily the lens was set at 200 mm. Any bigger, and he would not have fit in the viewfinder. With my camera shooting twenty images a second, I focused and shot.

He was so big, like the Kahuna or Split 5 of the bay. Reaching high into the air, he arched his body to fall full force back into the salty waters of Banderas Bay.

Carolyn turned back to me. “Did you get that?” she called out. I glanced in the viewfinder. The shot was full frame and clear, focused perfectly. I gave her a whale sized grin and thumbs up. She clapped in excitement. I had the shot.

It was incredible, the photographs I captured tagging along with Larry and Krissy. I spent three mornings on the water with them, and the knowledge, photography opportunity, and friendship developed were all treasures.

The special images captured exceeded my goal of four, encouraging me to plan a future trip escaping the winter winds of Estes Park to the warm Pacific waters off Puerto Vallarta.

Fly Like and Eagle

Thu, 12 Feb 2026 16:02:55 GMT

To Capture the Ultimate Bald Eagle Photograph

I have been striving to capture the ultimate bald eagle photograph since 1998. I’ve gotten several good ones, but I'm still working for the “money shot.” For years, while living in Iowa, I would drive the Mississippi and Iowa Rivers in search of wintering eagles. Or I would visit reservoir dams in Cedar Rapids, Pella, and Des Moines where the eagle would gather catching fish in the open waters as the dam spilled below the lakes.

You see, they are America’s National Bird for a reason. Bold in the presence with eyes that look through you like Jack Nicholas in “The Shining.” Yet, the grace with which they take flight is incredible. Long, floating wings moving up and down in a wave like the stars and stripes flowing in the breeze.

I saw my first bald eagle while driving over the Platte River Bridge on I-80 between Lincoln and Omaha, NE. This was in the late 1980s when the majestic birds were beginning their comeback after the North American population had been devastated by DDT. DDT (Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane) is a pesticide once widely used globally for pest control in agriculture, but its severe environmental toxicity led to its 1972 ban in the U.S.

DDT caused bald eagles to lay eggs with shells so thin they would crack under the parents' weight, preventing successful hatching. The chemical accumulated in fish, which eagles ate, leading to reproductive failure and near bald eagle extinction by the 1970s.

Today, the U.S. bald eagle population is booming, with over 316,000 individuals and more than 71,000 nesting pairs in the lower 48 states as of recent estimates (2020-2021). It is a huge recovery from near extinction, thanks to conservation efforts.

With the winter migration, bald eagles can be found throughout Colorado. Estes Park is blessed to have a nesting pair that lives in the area, often spotted on dead trees or high on power towers near Lake Estes. The lakes on the front range also provide many winter feeding opportunities. As the lakes partially freeze, eagles can often be seen in shore trees or sitting on the ice watching migrating water fowl.

I have driven the roads, searched the lakes, and captured several images of bald eagles. Nice ones, but not yet the “money shot.” The “money shot” is that image that makes you gasp when you see it. I’ve gotten several “coin reaction” shots, maybe even some Washington or Lincoln bill shots, but no Benjamin Franklins. I want that $100 bill capture.

Many days throughout the winter, I’ll travel the canyon highways to the lakes of the front range in hopes of the “money shot.” I see a lot of immature bald eagles, all brown with hints of white transition by three years old when their white heads begin to gain prominence. At five years old, they are mature. Their white heads surround yellow predominant eyes, bodies highlighted by white tails and brown feathers with tips a slight white when shining in the morning sun.

This winter, standing by a front range lake, twice I got near “money shots,” maybe the value of a Ulysses S. Grant $50 bill. As I waited, my camera on a tripod, a bald eagle landed high up in a tree. For an hour, I watched him, hoping he would take flight into the wind in my direction. My patience was rewarded when luck, timing, and awareness converged.

Later that morning, another eagle landed in a nearby tree, fish in his talons. I set my camera, capturing images of him picking bites of the fish. As he finished, he turned on the tree branch to face me.

I ducked behind the camera, focused on his intimidating eyes, and watched. Then he moved to fly, and I captured him in mid-take off, his eyes bearing down upon me as one drop of water fell from the point of his yellow beak.

It was a “near money shot,” and special because it was taken from a lower angle, eyes bearing down, and perfectly aligned to fly toward me.

As I continue to seek the “money shot,” I will enjoy every moment searching, seeking, and striving to capture the bald eagle image that makes you gasp when you first see it. America’s national bird is worthy of such an effort.

Where the Moose Roam

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 15:12:33 GMT

Tetons Moose Forage on the Bitterbrush Plants

Moose have intrigued me since the early 1980’s when I had my first close encounter on the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park. Maybe it’s the size, a thousand pounds plus of long, lanky legs, thick bodies, camel faces, and an expression with an intimidating glare, especially if they take exception to your presence.

So in December 2025, I ventured to Grand Teton National Park in search of the massive land beasts - Shiras moose. I had a Canon R5 mirrorless camera, a 100-500 mm lens and a 600 mm prime lens with a 2x extender that could keep me safe while bringing moose up-close and personal through the camera’s viewfinder.

Other photographers had shared that moose in the Tetons like to forage in winter among the bitterbrush plants. Apparently, they gather in lower elevation areas and sagebrush flats where the wind keeps the snow shallower, exposing their main winter food, bitterbrush.

After a comforting drive diagonally across Wyoming where antelope grazed along the fence lines, I drove the mesmerizing mountains over Togwotee Pass. Arriving in the Grand Teton National Park, I began my search for the massive ungulates.

To my wonder, almost immediately I found moose. Black spots among the sage green and brown, they were a half mile into fields filled with bitterbrush. Their heads were down, their antlers barely visible among the brush, as they ate their favorite winter shrub.

I pulled off the side of the road, amazed that there were actually big, beautiful bull moose visible like boulders in a wheat field. Through my viewfinder, I was impressed with the details but wished they were closer. As the sun set over the massive peaks to the west, their dark bodies glowed around the edges - back lit.

The next morning I was out at sunrise, and so were the moose. I relished the morning light, brightening their dark winter coats with the fur edges glowing gold. Their antlers, free of velvet, were light tan with long, pointy tines, the color contrary to their dark coats.

My camera in hand, zoom lens attached, I knelt low in the sagebrush. The lower I was the more dynamic the moose appeared rising above the old west prairie. I saw the image, and clicked the shutter. A ground of sage and tan was the setting bringing forward the dark gray-brown of an intimidating antlered bull moose.

There were two here, three there. Where one group grazed another three lay digesting their breakfast, hints of impressive antlers peaking out above the sage. It wasn’t just the moose, it was the setting. Flatlands of wandering moose feeding before the towering, sharp peaks the Native Americans Shoshones called “Teewinot” meaning many pinnacles.

It was on the third day that the moment happened. Water traversing the natural meadow drew the moose in. Driving, I crested a small rise to see an impressive bull nearing the water’s edge on the far shore. Then, I could see behind a clump of prairie grass a calm, massive, mellow bull resting. I knew once he stood, he would be frightening in his size and the glare of his eye.

I captured images, one after another. Then I saw a third bull, smaller but feisty moving directly across the field toward the water. As he did, the most impressive animal stood to a awe-inspiring size. The three gathered, moving into the water.

To me, it would be ice cold. To the moose it was refreshing, and they drank. Revived, they exited the water moving toward the group of photographers where I stood. Skilled in our own movement, we backed away while capturing shots at the same time. How we walked backwards through the tangled web of bitterbrush while looking through a tiny viewfinder and pushing the shutter to capture special pictures was a talent in itself.

Moving behind my vehicle, I lowered my camera watching them. Dark spots in a field had become towering animals with powerful chests and daring antlers of imposing paddles. The largest bull’s antler spread exceeded forty-five inches with long tines extending from their paddles.

As they moved, I captured their actions. Then one bull turned to the west, the sunlight brightening his winter coat as he did, and the pointed peaks of the snow covered Tetons rose up behind him.

I took the classic shot. The white covered Tetons were a backdrop to the prairie sagebrush surrounding him, and one bold, impressive moose dominated in the foreground. More than a moose picture, it was a dynamic scene capturing nature’s incredible beauty.

Brad's Top Six RMNP Photos of 2025

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 14:57:02 GMT

It was Suppose to be Top 5...But

Why Top Six Photos? Well, it was supposed to be Top 5, but I just couldn’t cut one more out. So…here are my Top Six 2025 favorite images from RMNP.

In March, I was driving through RMNP a little bored. The moose were up in the trees and elk were at lower elevations. The ground was brown with a hint of snow, and, if the incredible beauty of Rocky Mountain National Park can be boring, this was a little blah.

Then, driving through a meadow, I saw a flash of bright blue. The beginning of the migration? In all my time in RMNP, I’d never captured a quality image of a mountain bluebird.

I began to see more blue flashes of birds in flight. With no cars behind me, I stopped, my window down and camera up. A dusting of snow from the previous night had left white clinging to the gray branches. A bluebird landed, a contrast in bright blue against the dark branches and white snow.

My camera was set at a high shutter speed and burst mode. As the bluebird took flight, snow trailing as it flew away, I pressed the rapid fire shutter. Looking at the screen, I was giddy. I had captured a special image, and today it decorates our kitchen wall.

In April, driving along Bear Lake Road, I looked at the noble cabin, its historic character in the mystic beauty of a mountain setting. There was a fresh dusting of snow on the distant mountains, and the red and yellow branches of the willows highlighted the greens of the ponderosa pines and the reddish brown logs of the cabin. An amazing bit of history, the cabin picture reminds us of before RMNP was established.

July brought out those incredibly cute Pika. Looking like baby rabbits, they are scurrying miniature superheroes flying from rock to rock. Put some early summer flowers in their mouth, and it’s cuteness overload.

Standing on the tundra with camera in hand, I watched them run, flying from rock to rock, collecting wildflowers in their mouths, and returning to their dens. Pika do not hibernate. In the cold, they cuddle into the stored grasses and flowers for warmth and nourishment during the harsh winter months.

So with my camera set, I clicked the shutter to capture cuteness in action. Sometimes they were jumping but always running faster, challenging my camera focus. It was an exercise in luck, yet when they raced toward me with flower stuffed mouths, I captured the shot.

Frank the Tank was the most popular bull moose in RMNP this year. His popularity stemmed from his accessibility in the lower valley and tolerance of the tourists thrilled to see a big, bold, bull moose.

One early August morning was particularly special as Frank the Tank led a group of four nice size bull moose and two cow moose through the trees along the edge of a meadow. As the massive, powerful animal wandered among the trees, I extended my zoom lens to its full length.

Frank paused, seeming to sniff the sweetness of a flower. At that moment, I captured the shot. It was an incredible moment as the extraordinary bull moose seemed gentle, even tender in his appreciation of a tiny, yellow flower.

On August 27, I was looking for bears. It was that time of year when bear hyperphagia and ripe chokecherries meet. Bears are gorging themselves in preparation for hibernation, and chokecherries are a particularly favorite treat.

I had seen bears at this patch in the past, so I looked specifically into the chokecherry bushes. And there she was…the head of a reddish phase black bear sow popped up in the middle of the hillside.

Seeing me, she ran to a tree on the edge of the hillside, sitting beside it. As I set my tripod, my 600 mm prime lens with 2x extender attached, I drew the bear in with 1200 mm power.

Then it happened. First one cub, then a second climbed down the tree playfully swatting at each other. Curious, they sat calmly beside their mother looking my way. My shutter went crazy as I captured a beautiful family portrait.

In late September there had been a strong snowfall at the higher elevations. The snowcapped mountains contrasted the fall aspen of yellows, oranges, and reds. I was drawn to a spot above Bear Lake where the fall colors framed Bear Lake, Long’s Peak, and the snow covered Continental Divide.

Despite my challenges of age, not as strong legs, and shaky balance, I cautiously crawled and climbed the boulder field to an elevation high above Bear Lake. Sitting on a boulder, my legs stretched out to other jagged rocks, I captured the magic of fall colors, winter white, and the blue lake meeting in the mountains.

I’m estimating I took 50,000 pictures this summer, deleting 45,000, and narrowing 5,000 down to these six images in 2025. There are more, of course, because RMNP continues to share its dynamic beauty, but these are my favorites.

Turkey for Thanksgiving

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 13:23:56 GMT

Entertaining in Their Dancing Ritual

I like turkeys, the beauty of their feathers, puffed up and strutting in the spring, and the flavor of their drumsticks, brown and juicy in November. My mom made a great turkey every Thanksgiving. Moist from the brine and browned in the roaster, their flavor was complimented with bread dressing, deep-red cranberries, and green bean casserole.

Maybe that’s why I like taking pictures of turkey during their spring mating season. Maybe the turkeys bring back subtle memories of my mother in the kitchen, moving with the routine of a master cook. Watching the turkey in the spring, not only are they beautiful in their full strut, but they are entertaining in their dancing ritual prancing around the meadows.

I must have been in sixth grade, living along the bluffs of the Mississippi River in Burlington, Iowa, when I first saw a turkey transitioning from prancing foul to Thanksgiving dinner delight.

I was walking a trail in the forest along the bluffs just below our house. At the base of the woods, a small farmhouse stood with turkeys meandering around the yard. Curiously, I watched when the farmer came from the wood-framed house. As he walked, the man in overalls reached down, grabbing a turkey by the neck. He moved to an oversized stump, lifted a hatchet, placed the turkey on the stump, and wack, off with his head.

Horrified, I’m sure I screamed. I know I turned running back down the trail terrified by the brutality I had just seen. That memory sticks with me today in an ironic way. I don’t want the turkeys to be killed, a conservationist at heart. At the same time, they taste so darn good. I’m a meat eating pacifist. Ironic.

This last spring was a great turkey event in RMNP. From the end of March to early June, they were strutting. Often out in the open and undeterred by people while the toms gobbled along chasing after the hens.

The mating season unfolds over several phases. It starts with large turkey flocks all gathered together. Then progressing, the toms recruit the hens for breeding. This is when it may be the most entertaining, gobblers chasing the hens. And finally, the hens turn to nesting.

During this strutting display, the male turkey puffs out its chest feathers, fans its tail, and its wings hang down. Listening, you can hear the sound of the wings dragging along the ground. Gobbles are repeated in their effort to attract the hens.

Over the years, I’ve taken a lot of turkey pictures. The toms are actually hard to capture as they strut, move, and run after the hens. The variation in their feathers, the bold puffiness of their chest, rounded fan of their decorated tail feathers, and white stripes of their low hanging wings are a beautiful variation. When the sun hits them, the hint of reds and blues of their feathers are highlighted only to be offset by the wrinkled, vulture-like look of their blood red and raw blue heads.

In the spring, I’ll go to the locations in RMNP where the turkeys are prevalent. There, I will sit on the ground, the angle of my camera low to capture the dynamics of the mating ritual. The toms will ignore you, dancing around the hens in the potential for excitement. They will move onto the roads, blocking traffic without a concern. Mating is their only priority.

During this time, I’ll return home with hundreds of turkey pictures to sort through. As I find the ones I truly like, I’ll show my wife, Carolyn. With indifference, she’ll look at the beautiful birds and say, “They’re so ugly.” I’ll counter with, “Look at their beautiful feathers, the way the sun brings out the shades of blue.” Carolyn’s answer always is, “I like them better headless with shades of roasted brown.”

Shrugging, I’ll point at the elk photo on the wall, the moose above the fireplace, but before I can even answer, she’ll say, “No turkeys! No pictures of those ugly birds in my house.” I’ll show her another handsome shot of a strutting and fanning tom, and she’ll repeat, “No turkeys on my walls.”

But come Thanksgiving, like my mom used to make, Carolyn will brine and roast a twenty pounder. Delicious, I’ll claim a leg to devour as she prefers the white meat. My mouth will water at the table of creamed corn, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, croissant rolls highlighted in butter, and one brown turkey.

The table looks so good, I’ll take a picture of the food and our guests ready to partake in the juicy bird. After the annual picture is captured, Carolyn will repeat, “I’ll have no pictures of a turkey hanging on my wall.”

I’ll shrug, smiling as I chomp into my delicious turkey drumstick.

Bighorn Sheep Season

Sat, 01 Nov 2025 12:55:44 GMT

It Was Time to Focus on Bighorns

It was the middle of October. The yellow leaves had left the trees, now blanketing the ground. The moose had disappeared, moving into the forest for the rut. The elk had finished their rut, and could be found in Bond Park entertaining tourists or blocking the fairways of the local golf course. Driving through RMNP, I could find deer but mostly what I saw was the year-round scenic beauty.

Yet, I am primarily a wildlife photographer, so looking for wildlife was what I was doing. Seeking some understanding, I looked at my computer’s photo files. Five years of review showed the dates I had captured bighorn sheep during their rut. All the images taken along the Big Thompson were between October 6 and November 16. Clear evidence it was time to focus on the bighorns.

From my files, I learned that on November 4, 2020, I had come around one of a hundred curves in the highway to find a group of bighorn sheep. The ewes were led by two rams with three-quarter curled horns. Pulling to the side of the highway, I watched them cautiously cross from the south to the north and down to the Big Thompson River. Grabbing my camera, I followed at a safe, respectful distance.

There were hints of ice along the edge of the river. The rams stood on the bank surveying the location for crossing. Cold, I thought. These rams can handle the icy waters. Then they proved it. One ram crouched and sprung. Leaping outward over the water, he splashed into the blue halfway across the river.

One by one, the other ram and ewes followed, springing outward in the winter temperatures. Powerful leaps were meant to reach into the river where they swam to the other sidemwhere the brown grasses drew them to feed. Capturing the sheep in flight was incredible, yet not perfect. Mostly images of their backside. Still, cool pictures.

The following year in early October, I got lucky. Mid-morning, I spied a herd of sheep not far up on a hillside. There were rams, nice ones, grouped together on the rocky outcropings. Pointing my camera upward, even with the mid-morning sun high in the sky, the colors were rich. Time and again the animals posed, checking me out as I photographed them. Once home, I was thrilled with the handsome ram images captured.

In 2021, I had captured my best bighorn pictures, so on October 16, 2022, I was again searching along the river excited to photograph more. That morning, I found the largest herd I’d seen. Probably forty bighorn in an open area, the rut active with rams chasing ewes.

Showing the flehmen response, the rams curled their upper lip and inhaled deeply. This action transferred scents to a special organ in the roof of their mouth gathering information about a ewe's reproductive status. Then they would take flight, chasing the ewes, seeking out those ready to mate.

Two years later tragedy struck. The Alexander Mountain Fire started on July 29, 2024, burning up the Big Thompson Canyon, uncontained for nearly three weeks. The Alexander Mountain Fire resulted in the deaths of many bighorn sheep, a local game warden reporting that nearly half of the herd died directly from the fire.

As a result, the sheep were hard to find that fall, not so many in the canyon as in past years. On November 16, 2024, I was able to find a small herd in the narrows. Moving among the rocky cliffs, the rugged habitat allowed them to escape predators like coyotes, mountain lions, and bears. Hopping undeterred up the cliff, the inner part of the sheep’s hooves provided a soft and pliable suction-cup like grip to the rock’s surface.

That was the year I also saw the chocolate ram. "Chocolate" colored bighorn sheep are considered unusual in Colorado. Bighorn sheep naturally have brown or grayish-brown coats, but a distinctly rich chocolate brown coat is considered an uncommon color variation. He was a bold, dynamic, and uniquely beautiful ram.

Still, it was sad that the numbers in sheep had dwindled at the hand of a careless human responsible for starting the Alexander Mountain Fire.

This fall, with the colors and wildlife sightings dwindling in RMNP, I once again went in search of the bighorn sheep. My success was fleeting, though I was able to capture several ewes and two nice rams. The lighting was harsh, the images not so amazing, but I was relieved that this small herd lived healthy fourteen months after the fire.

Today, there are an estimated 350 bighorn sheep in RMNP, 7,000 in Colorado. While individual herd populations vary, the statewide numbers are stable. This is the result of decades of conservation efforts that have helped the species rebound from near extinction at the turn of the 20th century.

Autumn View Above Bear Lake

Thu, 23 Oct 2025 19:42:47 GMT

Bear Lake, Longs Peak, and a Mountain Blue Sky

I remember seeing the image for the first time at Richard Hahn’s Alpenglow Images and Accents in downtown Estes Park. It was one of those images that caused me to gasp, to stop in awe of the beauty, the amazing yellow and orange colors of fall aspen Richard had captured. They framed Bear Lake below, Longs Peak in the distance, and a mountain blue sky above. I knew I wanted to replicate it.

So on September 30, 2020, I walked Bear Lake. Looking at the mountainside, glancing back at Longs Peak, I tried to visualize the location up on the hill.

Only a couple of months before I’d retired to life in Estes Park, I had spent the previous thirty-seven years in suit pants and a striped tie, most of my time existing behind a desk in an office while leading a school district. Years of a regularly scheduled sedentary life had created soft legs and a gut like a pot-bellied pig. Despite my squishiness, I was determined to climb to the spot.

Camera strap around my neck, I trekked up the mountain, slipping on loose rocks, pressing my hands against the earth in a spider crawl. Periodically, I stopped, looked down at Bear Lake and over at Longs Peak. I took in the hillside and continued to climb searching for the spot.

Wandering into the aspen, climbing over boulders, I knew I was close, but it was not quite right. As I stood there on wobbly legs gasping for my breath, I took a few camera shots, hoped I'd gotten some nice images, and began to traverse back down the slippery slope.

That afternoon, as I looked at the images I’d captured, I knew they were nice, but I also knew I had not found the exact spot, that perfect spot framed in the yellow and orange leaves of Richard’s image.

So on September 27, 2021, I continued my search. With my belly starting to adapt to life in the mountains, my legs stronger from hikes and days in the field photographing wildlife, I returned to Bear Lake.

My camera backpack on my shoulder and a tripod bag in my left hand, I climbed up toward the colorful aspen. With the extra weight, I stumbled, slipped, but kept moving. My legs were definitely not of my youthful self.

Once at the altitude of the colorful trees, I ventured onto the boulder field climbing cautiously from one to another searching for the right spot. The distant sky was hazy, the colors not as dynamic as the image I wanted, but it was beautiful.

That night, as I showed my wife the images, she asked about the climb. Admittedly it had not been easy on my retired legs and aging body, so I said, “I don’t think that’s a climb I’ll take again.” She answered seriously, “Good decision.”

Then this year, there was an early snow laying a blanket of white over Longs Peak and the surrounding mountains. On September 24, 2025, driving up Bear Lake Road, it was easy to see how beautiful that image above Bear Lake would be with the distant snow-capped mountains. My 2021 conversation with Carolyn echoed warnings in my mind. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to stop and have a walk-around.

Standing on the trail, looking up at the colorful fall mountainside, I felt different. In the five years since my retirement, my belly had reduced to a respectable protrusion, my legs were firmer on the ground. Yet, I had crept into my 70s. As I considered the climb, my artistic mind battled between cautious logic and seeking art. One last trip up the boulder field? One last chance to replicate Richard’s image?

Instead of the slope, I took a hiking trail with the intent of traversing across above the boulder field. It was an easier trek, and when I reached the spot I thought I might be looking for, I climbed gingerly down the boulders. As I fought for balance, I knew it was good Carolyn didn’t know what I was doing.

Then the trees opened before me, and instantly I knew. I had found the exact location of the image I had so admired. Crawling among the boulders, I was thrilled with the confluence of fall colors, snow-capped Longs Peak, and Bear Lake below reflecting a bright blue sky above.

I braced myself against the rocks, balanced my camera, and saw the image in my viewfinder. I took shot after shot knowing these would truly exceed my previous attempts. It was a moment of thrilling appreciation of Rocky Mountain National Park.

That night, I showed Carolyn the picture from the full-frame of my computer. She gasped, and I knew I had captured the image I’d sought since my retirement five years before. “Beautiful,” she exclaimed. Then her brow wrinkled as she glared at me, “You said you wouldn’t climb up there again.”

I smiled, nodding. “It was the last time.” Her stare turned more serious. “You promise?” She insisted. I crossed my fingers before answering. “I promise.”

The Color of Black Bear

Sat, 18 Oct 2025 16:36:21 GMT

What Colors are Black Bear?

What color are black bears? Well…black?

So many times I have guests on RMNPhotographer Tours, and when we talk about bears, they assume any bear that is not black is a grizzly. Not so. Black bears can range in a variation of color phases from black nearly white.

The name "black bear" comes from early European settlers in North America who, upon settling on the east coast, encountered black-colored bears. Moving west, they encountered other color phases. In the west, the American black bear includes the color phases brown, cinnamon, and blonde. This led to the understanding that these color variations belonged to the same species, the black bear.

My first black bear encounter was sometime in the 1980s in Estes Park. One night in a motel on Old Fall River Road, I pulled into the parking lot and found myself staring through the windshield at a bear. In the headlights, the bear looked black, but could have been a darker brown. Black, brown, or green, it was really cool to see my first bear.

Since then, I have had the opportunity to photograph black bears on the east coast in Great Smoky Mountain National Park and Florida, and throughout the rocky mountains including RMNP, Yellowstone National Park, and Grand Teton National Park. It has been interesting to see the differing color phases.

Black bears have different color phases due to genetic variations influencing the type and amount of melanin in their fur. Melanin is a natural pigment that determines the color of skin, hair, and eyes. The specific colors are also influenced by their habitat, with lighter colors providing better camouflage and heat regulation in open, western environments and darker colors being more common in the eastern forests.

During my first visit to Great Smoky Mountain National Park, I found myself at Cade’s Cove which is known for its scenic one-way loop road, historic homesteads and churches, and abundant wildlife including bears. The one-way road was an eleven mile bear jam. So, after one loop, I took my bike off the back of my car, put my camera backpack on, and began riding. In three loops, I saw twenty-seven bears (yes, I probably counted some of the same bears during each loop). But I flew by the cars, got to where the bear was, took pictures, and rode on to the next black bear.

Like on the east coast, in Big Thompson Canyon, I have periodically encountered black phase black bears. They are almost always deep black like their east coast brothers.

This year in RMNP, I have had two bear encounters, both reddish-brown black bears with cubs. In May, as I slowed my SUV, one ran from the edge of Bear Lake Road protecting her yearling cub. The other was in late August, a mother bear with two COYS (Cubs of the Year). As mom sat protectively on the hillside watching me (and the throng of photographers that appeared around me), her cubs wrestled on the ground behind her.

Most recently, during mid-afternoon in the middle of Estes Park there was a light brown bear in the Big Thompson River by the giant slide. He wandered along the river, between the buildings, up to Riverside Dr., and walked a half-mile before crossing the river at the Mountain Rock development. He was a beautiful, solitary bear ignoring all of those who stopped to watch.

My favorite place to photograph bears is Yellowstone. Each May, the week before Memorial Day, I go to the “North American Serengeti” to photograph both black and grizzly bears. While grizzlies are more prevalent, I have captured my favorite black bear image there.

Deep black, she was feeding and playing with her two cubs. Big and beautiful, as they played, she wandered behind a tree, poked her head back out, and posed. There, she looked at me with deep red eyes, as I captured her picture.

Soon after that, a brown phase black bear crossed the road in front of me where he ran into a pond. I was out of my car with the camera up when he went for a swim, cooling his body in the late spring heat. Then he walked back out coming in my direction as water rained down from his fur. I scooted back to my car.

So, what color are black bears? Well…black and brown, reddish and cinnamon, and even blonde. Why? Because there are genetic variations influenced by the melanin in their fur and the environment they live in.

Still, a bear is a bear and always exciting to encounter, beautiful to see.

The Crooked Aspen of Colorado

Thu, 09 Oct 2025 18:39:47 GMT

Crooked Aspen of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains

When I first saw images of the crooked aspen of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains, I thought, “I’ve got to photograph those.” They were both unique and mystical, so I began to research their location.

I Googled crooked aspen and dancing aspen, read articles, searched photographers' sites, but the only indication I could find was that they were near Ophir. So precious to naturalists, it’s not that their location is a secret. It’s just that no one will tell you where they are.

Ophir, I thought. I can find Ophir and from there I will be on a mission to find the trees.

So…as far as their location, that’s all you’ll get from me. That’s all I got, so I’m not going to be the one who says, “Turn here…” and unravels the location mystery. I like that these mysterious trees are in a mysterious location. Mystery adds to their mysticism.

Years before, I had four-wheeled into this area. It had been a bit frightening, the rough and ruggedness of the trail, but I had made it once. So when I drove into the dense forest, my emotions were caught between fear and anticipation, heightened by the inch of snow that had fallen the previous night.

The road was narrow, the trees encompassing, and the ride rough. At one point, I drove under a fallen tree, and I hoped the trail would remain clear of obstacles. I hit bumps, my SUV bounced, and I felt a bit desperate that the road might become rougher. But I ventured on.

It must have been an old mining road, the San Juans covered with veins of old trails created to move the ore from the hills. But I kept moving on, working through the colors of the dense, fall forest.

As I slowly drove, I was looking into the trees, searching for any sign of a crooked aspen. Moved along, I came upon a slight pulloff, room for a couple of vehicles to park. Across was a narrow trail into the forest. Where it led, I did not know, but I was searching.

I parked, pulled out my camera and tripod, and moved across the 4-wheel drive road down the trail into the forest. As I walked, I looked, scanning for crooked trees. Not far down the trail, I thought I saw one. Then the forest thinned, opening up to a small clearing. It was there that I stopped, transfixed.

There they were, just like in the pictures I’d seen. A small grove of crooked aspen standing as if they were dancing in the forest.

For a while I just watched them, taking in their uniqueness, the beauty they exuded. The dancing appearance was the result of a natural phenomenon where heavy snow, an avalanche, or slow-moving soil creep had bent the young trees. From there, they continued to grow creating the distinctive wavy or crooked appearance.

To capture the vision, I set my tripod low to the ground, squatting to a lower angle. The trees looked mystical, magical, standing in a similar wave as they posed for my camera. Taking several images, I kept making slight adjustments to the tripod to capture the angle of the curves.

Then I moved in closer. Realizing they looked like the neck of a giraffe or was it a pre-historic brachiosaurus’, tall, slender, and wavy. As if reaching up to the light green and fall yellow leaves, the crooked aspens were a contrast to the typical straight, white bark of the trees.

Then I moved the tripod to the base of three dancing aspens bunched closely together. Angling the camera upward, in the sky blue sky the sun burst bright.

For nearly an hour alone in the forest, I selected angles, lighting, and the backdrop to capture the magic of the curved aspen forest. I felt like I was in a different land, one of another time or place that was not known to me. One that would capture beautiful, unique photographs.

When I felt I’d truly experienced the crooked aspens of Colorado, I picked up my tripod, followed the trail back to my SUV, loaded the camera gear, and headed back to Ophir on the 4-wheel drive road.

As I drove, I thought of how lucky I was to have the time and ability to visit such unique places. And I had captured the images to remember that I had danced with the aspen in the hidden forest of southwest Colorado’s San Juan Mountains.

Fall Colors of Kebler Pass

Sun, 05 Oct 2025 07:32:42 GMT

Images From a Magical Coloring Book

I had heard about the fall colors of Southwest Colorado. Descriptions and photos had made it look like images from a magical coloring book. Explosions of yellow, red, and orange interspersed with blue spruce and green pine created stunning images of the mountains surrounding the view in every direction.

As I planned my trip, I reached out to my photographer friends asking where to find the colors. Ridgeway, Silverton, Ouray, and Telluride all came up, but the constant was driving Kebler Pass from Crested Butte. As one friend shared, “It’s an amazing array of colors.” So that is where I headed.

Finding my way through the quaint downtown of Crested Butte, the street eventually led to Kebler Pass. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it was the road to take, so up I drove into the mountains toward the 10,007 foot summit.

It was the last week of September, the peak of fall colors. I drove in anticipation knowing the 30-mile scenic route was famous for its vast aspen groves that turn vibrant gold and orange in the autumn. Immediately, the colors began to reveal themselves, and I quickly found an overlook with stunning views. Stopping, I stepped from my SUV breathing deeply, inhaling.

Many years before, I had driven Independence Pass from Leadville to Aspen. I vaguely remembered the narrow road passing over 12,095 feet. But what I did remember was passing through an aspen forest. Perfectly straight, the aspens were tall and narrow creating an image of white lines like a picket fence Tom Sawyer had tricked his friends to paint. The experience created a beautiful memory.

Kebler Pass is one of the most iconic drives in Colorado winding through one of the largest aspen groves in the state. Aspen, a unique tree of the poplar family, produces cloned trees from a single root system forming one large living organism, The trees, interconnected through the one root system, can span an entire mountainside of genetically identical trees.

Because they share a root structure, an entire area reaching up to 100 acres can be from one single aspen organism. This means all of the aspen’s leaves emerge at the same time in spring and in the fall when the leaves turn gold. Thus creating spectacular foliage displays.

As I stood taking in the vision, like the memory of Independence Pass, I was captivated by the spectacular colors offset with white bark tree trunks creating epic mountain views.

I thought of the long history of the area with the trail rooted in Native American Ute history. In the late 19th century with the mining boom, Kebler Pass was the route for the Denver & Rio Grand Railroad with a station at its summit. Once the mining efforts faded, it became the major road connecting Crested Butte and Paonia. As I drove the dirt road, I first stopped to capture an iconic hillside.

The mountainside was layers of yellow and green interspersed with the tall white trunks of the aspen. As the dense aspen forest prevails, the lower branches on the trees do not receive enough sunlight. Thus, as they grow the lower branches fall from the tree, creating tall, narrow slats of thick white crowned with the colors of fall.

At the peak of the image were rocky outcrops of volcanic rock and granite, dynamic against the colors. Among all the colors was a grove of bright red aspen, created by an abundance of water and sugar. As I set my camera to capture the image, the emotions of the beauty were overwhelming, the colors beyond my anticipation.

Once captured, I drove upward along the road toward the pass. Everywhere I looked were the colors of fall. Complementing them were the white bark closer to the ground surrounded by a sea of ferns. It reminded me of the Independence Pass image burned in my memory.

I parked, walking deep into the white forest. Winding my way up the hill, I traversed to the summit where I was alone surrounded by the mystical image of golden top trees and a floor of ferns.

As I stood by myself within the forest, a slight breeze rustled through the treetops. Looking up, the yellow leaves began to rain down upon me. I raised my arms, welcoming the fall of fall, yellow encompassing my view. I was alone in the forest, the leaves a beautiful shower drifting downward onto my hands and shoulders until landing gently on the ferns.

I was standing within the magic of SW Colorado’s amazing fall foliage like an elf in the forest, spinning in my own little dance of joy.

Why Do You Always Take Your Camera?

Thu, 25 Sep 2025 20:09:03 GMT

"Because, you never know."

This was a conversation my wife, Carolyn, and I had on May 28, 2021. We were in the garage ready to head to Loveland to get important stuff like Sam’s hotdogs, chicken fried rice, and a 35 pack of Diet Coke. I was putting my camera in the back seat, and she said, “Why do you take your camera everywhere?” I answered, “Because, you never know.”

Twenty minutes later, we were part way down the canyon, when we came upon a line of cars pulled over. Carolyn saw it first, a large black bear was standing tall on the front porch of a small cabin, pounding his front paws on the door (How do bears know it’s a door?). She was huffing and puffing like a big bad wolf. Then I pointed at the twin cubs clinging to a branch high up in a tree.

Carolyn yelled, “Get your camera. Get your camera.” Grabbing my Canon, under my breath I teased, “You never know.”

It was a rare experience, a large sow black bear with one reddish cub, the other darker brown. Pictures of the three bears were captured, one paw supported against the cabin wall protecting the cubs who played above her in the tree.

Carolyn gave directions, “Oh, get that one,” and “Look at the mother posing. Get that shot.” I did capture wonderful images, one of which would become the cover on the June 4, 2021 Estes Park News.

Exhilarated, as the bears disappeared up the hill, we settled back into the car. “Those will be great shots,” her adrenaline rushed. Smiling, I answered, “Yes, dear…good I had my camera with me.” Laughing a bit, she said, “Yes, because, you never know.”

During October 2021, again casually driving down the canyon to Loveland, the bighorn sheep were in rut. Just past the fire station, above on a rocky outcrop rams gathered looking down at the throng of photographers. I, of course, had my camera, and I went into action. It was the best opportunity I’ve had until and since to capture the bold presence of bighorns during the rut. One of the images shared the cover of Estes Park News with a wonderful moose picture by my friend Richard Hahn.

It was June 1, 2023, and we were returning from a doctor appointment in Fort Collins, driving and talking, enjoying our time together when suddenly, I pulled off the road in the canyon. As I came to a stop, I said, “Bear.” By then, Carolyn had become well trained. As my door swung open, she reached into the back seat, handing my camera to me.

It was a black bear, wet from being in the river’s water. Beautiful in size and coat, he moved up the hill, stopping to see what I was doing. With my camera up, I captured his pose. So dynamic, curiously shy, with a full black coat. Then he moved up the hill into the thicket, disappearing. That beautiful bear was the cover image on Estes Park News on June 9, 2023.

On February 26, 2025, we had been to Medical Center of the Rockies, spending the day together as Carolyn received her chemo treatment. We’d learned to appreciate the time together, and I was sharing some wildlife photos with one of the nurses. The nurse asked, “Do you have your camera with you?” Before I could answer, Carolyn said, “Of course he does.” “Good,” the nurse smiled. “I know where a bald eagle nest is.”

Taking a detour on the way home, we found the eagle nest. While Carolyn rested in the SUV, I captured a few images, the male cooperating as he flew to a nearby dead tree. When I returned to the car, Carolyn asked, “Did you get a cover shot?” The eagle was on Estes Park News cover on March 7, 2025.

On Monday, September 15, 2025, we were going to one of Carolyn’s check ups at Estes Park Health. As we’d left for the hospital, she’d chastised me, “We’re only going a few blocks, and you have to take your camera?” Before I answered, she did. “I know. You never know.”

Heading home, we turned back onto Moraine Avenue past Fun City when we saw a couple of cars slow. Carolyn sat up, looking over me out the window. “Elk in the water?” she asked. I looked, blurting. “No, it’s a bear.”

I pulled onto the gravel, and Carolyn handed me my camera. We were both out the door, working across the traffic to the raised river’s edge. There on the opposite side of the river was a blondish, red black bear. My camera in action and Carolyn beside me, I capture the bear walking along in the cold water. Then he exited the river, moving past Brenda’s Appearance Plus Hair Salon.

“Those pictures are going to be beautiful,” Carolyn said. I answered, “Luckily, I had my camera with me.” “Of course,” she smiled, “Because, you never know.”

Who is KJ?

Thu, 18 Sep 2025 13:17:49 GMT

Kahuna Junior (KJ) is a Legacy…Possibly

Who is KJ? KJ is Kahuna Junior. KJ is a legacy…possibly. KJ is dynamic with his huge curved antlers, large third tines, and slight twist on the left third tine, with antlers almost identical to Kahuna’s.

What’s the history of KJ? First, let’s look at the history of Kahuna, the famous bull elk known as the King of Moraine. He was active for many years, recognizable by his magnificent antlers, and dynamic both in size and bellowing bugle. Kahuna was well known by those following and photographing the elk rut in RMNP.

One of my first and favorite images of Kahuna was taken on September 8, 2020. It was a snowy evening, an early season dusting of white covering the still green grasses. I was in Moraine Park when I saw a massive bull elk striding across the meadow toward Bear Lake Road. So impressive, I picked up my camera, focused out the open window, and captured a shot of Kahuna striding away as the snow began to blanket his coat. Today, I still appreciate that image.

Then I drove back onto Bear Lake Road to get in front of the King of Moraine. I watched him striding toward another large bull and his harem of twenty cows, all resting as snow fell around them. When the other bull realized which elk was coming, he stood and watched Kahuna moving toward him. Instead of challenging the King, the other elk turned, walked away, and left his harem of cow elk to the dominant bull. It was an impressive display of respect and fear.

During the rut of 2021, Kahuna was challenged by another massive bull elk. As they skirmished, one of the other elk’s tines penetrated Kahuna’s shoulder breaking off in the King’s body. A few days later, I went looking for Kahuna only to find him alone and injured having retreated from rut activity. Watching him was a sad vision of the king.

In March 2022, Kahuna’s remains were found, having succumbed to his injury and the harsh RMNP winter weather.

During the rut of 2022, I was photographing elk in Moraine Park when I saw Kahuna, or an elk I thought was Kahuna. How could it be? Kahuna’s death had been well documented. As I watched the impressive elk, his body was not as thick as Kahuna’s but his antlers were nearly identical. Large, rounding inward with huge third tines and a slight twist on the left third tine.

That night, I put comparison images of Kahuna and this new elk on the Facebook page RMNPhotographer-Estes Park. It was nearly impossible to tell the difference. I wrote a caption something like, “I don’t know if this is Kahuna’s son, but they are so similar I’m going to call him KJ for Kahuna Junior.”

The name stuck, and that fall KJ was the most sought after elk as photographers swarmed to capture his picture. Then, sometime in the middle of September, KJ and another large elk were in a terrific battle for KJ’s harem. The battle went on in a vicious display of power, cameras capturing the dynamic, unrelenting beasts as they fought heads down, antlers locked, and the power of their legs driving into each other.

In the end, KJ had a slight cut on his lip, sweat straining over his brown coat as he retreated, having lost his harem to another.

I have heard reports of KJ since that time. Each year during the rut, people speak of him, but I have not seen him since that fateful battle in 2022.

Until…maybe…recently. I heard photographers talking about KJ, yet I did not believe it was him. Then I captured photographs of such an elk. He is big and bold with large antlers curving in. His third tines are larger than typical, yet not as large as Kahuna’s. Still, there is a slight twist at the tip of the left third tine.

He looks very similar to KJ, certainly with characteristics of Kahuna. Is he KJ or another bull elk that may have been fathered by Kahuna the King?

I am not a wildlife biologist or a national park expert on elk heredity who can give a definitive answer. I am an enthusiastic photographer and writer with a bit of a romantic flair. And as I romanticise about Kahuna and KJ, I want to believe. I love to believe that KJ or another of Kahuna’s offspring may be active during a rut that was once dominated by his father.

The Movement of Elk

Thu, 11 Sep 2025 15:42:35 GMT

Elvis the Elk - A 7x8 Point Bull Elk

Elvis, the king. I saw him in concert in 1977 not too long before his death. He was “All shook up,” and so was I as I sang along with every song. In 2022, I saw a different Elvis. Someone who must have been a fan of “Jail House Rock” or “Heartbreak Hotel” gave him a royal name. A 7 x 8 point elk, he was already an imperial elk on his way to being a monarch.

The first time I saw Elvis, it was June 2022, and the migration up to the tundra was just about to begin. He was grazing outside of the park along Fall River Road near Bugle Point, so appropriate. Parking in a pullout, I grabbed my camera.

Already, he was impressive. The antlers were still growing, yet you could already count eight points on his right antler, seven on his left. A point on the left antler stuck outward away from the standard growth making him uniquely identifiable. With so many points already growing, the antlers made him royalty even covered with thick, nourishing velvet.

I was excited, giddy to take the pictures of such a bold, dominant elk, his fresh summer coat smooth and beautiful. My camera’s shutter kept reacting to my excitement. I must have taken a couple of hundred images, capturing both his imposing size and magnificence.

It was mid-July while guiding a RMNPhotographer Tour up Old Fall River Road, when a saw people taking pictures near the treeline. As we watched, nearly hidden within the shrubs were three bull elk, one obviously larger than the others. As I watched the elk, the large one turned his head to pose, and I recognized the extra, angled tine. It was Elvis. He had migrated all the way from Estes Park to near the top of Old Fall River Road.

A month later, on my August birthday, I was about halfway up Old Fall River Road with another RMNPhotographer Tour when we encountered an elk jam. As the cars moved at a crawl, I knew it was something worth seeing. Pulling over, we stepped from the car to watch three bull elk.

There, in all his imperial royalty, stood Elvis. His antlers had shed their velvet, and he was at his dynamic best. With the rut approaching, his chest was full, his mane dark brown, and his antlers still a bit reddish from the recent shedding of the velvet. He was a beautiful elk to capture with my camera.

Two days later, I was in an open field of willows at 10,700 ft. when I pointed out to our guests two nice elk. I explained that two days prior, they had been with Elvis, a large elk that posed well for photos. I told them to watch because Elvis was likely nearby.

Then, as if he were a collaborator to give the impression I was some sort of incredible guide, Elvis appeared from the taller willows. So big and bold, my guests gasped as he strode to join the other two bulls. Dynamic in his presence, handsome in his summer coat and thick, sharp antlers, I knew he would be a presence during the elk rut.

It was a week later at sunrise when I was out in RMNP with my camera. There, crossing an open meadow at 8,000 ft. was a small group of bull elk. Still friends as their hormones were just beginning to erupt, they strode across the meadow toward a pond.

I had my 600mm prime lens with a 2x extender attached bringing it to 1200mm. My tripod held it steady as I focused on the largest of the bulls. It was easy to spot, the unique tine pointing outward. I smiled as I pushed the shutter button. Elvis.

In the middle of September, I got a call from a photographer friend. “I’m at the golf course behind the visitor center,” he told me. “Elvis is here with a harem.” I jumped in my SUV and headed through town.

Arriving, Elvis was working a harem of twenty or so cow elk, moving, corralling them, only stopping to let out a powerful, intimidating bugle. He was literally “a hunk, a hunk of burning love.”

He had come full circle migrating from 7500 ft to nearly 12,000 ft and back down for the fall rut by Lake Estes. He was an impressive elk, willing to fight for his harem, and the cows must have been attracted as they stayed close.

Astonished, I watched and photographed, but it was his bugle that captured my imagination. Loud and pronounced, was he actually singing to the cow elk, “I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Bear Deja Vu

Fri, 05 Sep 2025 22:23:21 GMT

Reddish Phase Black Bear Feasting on Chokecherries

Black bears love chokecherries and with their powerful sense of smell they can detect the ripe fruit from miles away. One of the most notable shrubs in Rocky Mountain National Park, chokecherries are a leafy perennial that produce small, single-seeded fruits similar to a cherry. Ripe in the late summer and early fall, they are a bear’s favorite during hyperphagia. Hyperphagia is a natural time for bears when they overeat intensely to gain body fat before winter hibernation.

On August 30, 2022, I was in RMNP paying particular attention to areas where I knew there were chokecherries. Watching one particular hillside, among the greens and chokecherry berries, I saw a reddish-brown hump appearing and disappearing only to reappear as it moved through the shrubs.

Excited, I realized it was a reddish phase black bear feasting on the chokecherries. As I exited my car, watching the bear’s movement her head popped up, curious about the person down by the road. She watched me, and I watched her, my camera coming up. Then she began meandering away, disappearing among the thick brush.

I scanned the area, almost jumping when I saw them. High in a giant ponderosa pine, two cubs slept peacefully on parallel tree branches. Looking back to where I had seen the mother bear, she emerged on the edge of the foliage, moving to the tree. Climbing up, she stopped below the cubs. From there, she stood, reaching her paws over a branch, and stared at me as if to say, “No closer.” Respectfully, I obliged.

Fast forward to August 27, 2025, I was driving as I looked at the same band of chokecherries when a head appeared. Like a teddy bear on a bed, she looked reddish, soft, and fluffy feeding among the green leaves and red berries.

Then on the hill behind her, another, smaller bear…a cub running. The cub climbed onto a fallen tree, walking the beam like Simone Biles, and dismounted onto a bed of pine needles. I looked back to the mother bear where she sat upward and another cub appeared. Twins. Deju vu.

All three moved toward the same giant tree that on August 30, 2022, had been occupied by the black bear sow and her twins. I pulled my 600 mm prime lens from the back of my SUV, set up the tripod, and attached the camera. I moved up above the edge of the road, setting the camera in place and looked to find the bears once more.

Mother bear sat watching from the base of the ponderosa pine. Focusing the camera, I began to capture images from a significant distance away. She was calm, not moving. Light had begun to brighten her fur, the red highlighted to nearly blond. My shutter clicked silently as I captured the beautiful bear’s image.

I could feel it happening around me. Photographers, tourists, and people in awe of this special sighting began to gather. They knew my camera must be pointed at something, and as they saw the bear, the excitement in their whispers was evident. For the visitors, this would be the highlight of their vacation.

Then, seeing her coming head-first down the tree, I whispered, “A cub.” She was followed by the second cub, and as mom watched protectively, they began to play. Wrestling, tussling, tumbling, and falling on each other, the cubs were a delight. My camera was in action.

It was a unique and special moment in RMNP. With only an estimated thirty black bears in its 415 square mile land mass, spotting bears is rare. Photographing them at play was a moment a photographer dreamed of.

She was a beautiful and protective mother, watching us watch her as the cubs tumbled playfully behind her. Every now and then, curiosity would overcome their playfulness. The cubs would stop, stepping up beside their mother looking to see what she was watching.

That is when our cameras reacted, the mother and her cubs posing for pictures, smiling at the photographers. Portrait shots of a family on their best behavior. But that would only last a minute because bear cubs are like little kids. A small paw would reach for the other cub’s head, the other cub’s mouth opened as she reacted, and the tussle was back on.

Like kids, eventually, the cub’s play wore them out. They retreated up the tree to a large branch, sleeping protected. As they did, mother bear crossed her paws, laid her head on top, and began her own rest and recovery.

The cubs were safe, the people a good distance away, and she was weary. So at the bottom of the tree near the chokecherry shrubs, she slept. As she did, I stood from behind my camera, took a deep breath, and silently thanked her for sharing her family for just a bit of time.

Famous Elk of RMNP

Thu, 28 Aug 2025 18:10:36 GMT

Name Status Recognizes the Dominant Bull Elk

Have you seen the tourists who approach bull elk during the elk rut? Some even try to pet them. Usually, the tourist ends up laying on the ground, having fallen in retreat from the massive elk whose space they violated. Luckily, in most cases the elk’s charge is a bluff to back them off, tourists who sometimes think wild animals are like the poodle on a leash begging to be petted. Not so, but to understand their power is to both fear and honor them.

There have been several bull elk elevated to name status in RMNP. Name status recognizes the dominant bull elk during the fall rut in Rocky Mountain National Park. Only the most magnificent bulls have earned a name through their size, dominance, and the uniqueness of their antlers which grow in a similar pattern each year.

I first became familiar with the iconic bull elk Samson while visiting the YMCA of the Rockies. The rut is a time of nearly constant activity within the elk population. Bull elk fight to maintain harems of cows to mate and continue their lineage. Many years ago, Samson would dominate during the rut, then retreat to the YMCA of the Rockies where he would find solace for recovery. Samson was known for collapsing in the protective setting of the YMCA where he would lay on the ground for days, even weeks of recovery.

Samson’s antlers bore seven points on one side and nine on the other, an exceptional trophy sized rack. Sadly, on November 11, 1995, the YMCA’s unofficial mascot Samson was illegally killed by a poacher’s crossbow. In Samson’s honor, his trophy mount now hangs above the historic fireplace at the YMCA camp. On September 7, 1997, a handsome bronze sculpture of the majestic elk (created by Estes Park artist Carol Cunningham) was commemorated at the intersection of U.S. Highway 36 and Colorado Highway 7.

More recently, and just as famous, the dynamic elk Kahuna was proclaimed the King of Moraine Park. Christened “Kahuna” by wildlife photographer Fred McClanahan, Jr., his unique antlers, powerful, deep bugle, and impressive size made him special. Kahuna was the most beloved and photographed bull elk since Samson.

Many times, I had the opportunity to photograph Kahuna, but one morning was notable. The sun was bright, sky blue, and Kahuna was working a particularly impressive harem of cow elk. With age came power, and Kahuna’s chest and neck appeared massive. His antlers were easily recognizable through their size, the rounded feature of the full rack, and massive third tines. That morning, he struck an impressive pose as my camera worked its magic.

Sadly, during the rut of 2021, Kahuna battled with another bull elk. Injured, he retreated from the rut activity, often seen alone while the rut continued. Estimated to have lived for 10 years, the winter was too harsh to survive his injury. His carcass was found and reported to the National Park Service during mid-March 2022 by Loren and Alli Schrag of Good Bull Outside and Andrew Sanders of ACS Nature Photography.

Interestingly, during the rut of 2022, an elk with nearly identical antlers appeared. While his body was not as developed, his antlers were nearly duplicates to Kahuna’s. Thus, he became known as KJ or Kahuna Junior.

Over the past few years, two elk have dominated during the rut. Split 5, named for his distinctive split fifth tines on both of his antlers, is also known as Atlas. Split 5 is a scarily impressive elk whose incredible power became evident in September 2024.

Split 5’s challenger was Droptine. He is also known as Kickstand due to the distinctive drop tine (a downward-pointing tine) on his left antler. Droptine is a prancer, moving around his harem, head held high dancing back and forth in an impressive mating ritual.

Both Split 5 and Droptine are a sight to see and a goal to capture by photographers visiting in September. In a clash of titans, last September Split 5 and Droptine squared off in an incredible battle.

While their antlers clashed, the huffing from their lungs and muscles expanding to battle mode created a classic fight for dominance. Who was to win was anyone’s guess as they locked antlers, circled, pressed, reared back, broke away and returned to battle.

The stronger bull soon became evident. As Split 5 twisted his head, he broke the tines of Droptine’s right antler. The battle raged as Droptine fought valiantly, but tines continued to break, pieces flying through the air. In the end, Split 5 had shredded Droptine’s right antler to mear stubbles. One dominant elk was left defeated by the incredible power of Split 5.

I anticipate both Split 5 and Droptine will be back this year bigger and stronger than ever. It will be a rut where they both seek to earn the label given to Kahuna, the king. As they strive to establish their dominance the world’s wildlife photographers, elk lovers, and curious tourists will have their cameras up hoping to capture a special image.

Will Split 5 still be in control, has Droptine grown to compete for control, or will a more mature KJ display his heritage and announce his presence as the king’s son?

What the Mountains Give

Thu, 21 Aug 2025 11:56:01 GMT

The Most Beautiful Scene I Had Ever Seen

I had a birthday last week. A lot of years have gone by. That birthday morning, I was up at 5:00 AM, took care of the dogs and opened a birthday card from my wife. Lovingly, it said something about being so old my first wildlife photo was of a dinosaur. With a chuckle, I headed out into RMNP looking for less prehistoric animals.

As I drove, I reflected on so many years and the influences through that time. When I was a kid living in a Mississippi River town, my dad’s passion was playing piano, jazz piano. He was darn good too and a connector. I believe I was in third grade when he took me to a jazz concert. I remember because I was irritated that I couldn't stay home and play baseball, but he insisted. Afterward, we went backstage, and he introduced me to several of the musicians including his friend, Louie Armstrong. I remember he was a nice guy with a deep voice and kind of sweaty.

When I was around twelve, during Dad’s vacation we went to Las Vegas where he had a gig. On the way, we stopped in Colorado and spent the night in a quaint little mom and pop motel. The next morning, I stepped out to see the bright sun rising over the mountains highlighting dynamic, snowcapped peaks.

It was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen. Standing in awe, I didn’t hear my dad the first time he called. Then he yelled, “Hey Brad. Let’s go. We’ve got to get to Vegas.” He was as excited about going to Vegas as I was overwhelmed by the vision of mountain beauty.

I could have stood there forever.

When I was fifteen, I attended camp at the YMCA of the Rockies here in Estes Park. That same feeling, being mesmerised and wanting to stay forever, dominated my emotions. There was a mountain there, one I kept looking at. EP mountaineers know what I was thinking…so I climbed the mountain. A small mountain, but for a flatlander, it was my first mountain. I sat on top, looked down at Moraine Park and watched the water of the Big Thompson River meander like the edges of puzzle pieces through the valley.

Years later at twenty-four years old, I found myself caught in a confusing time of my life. Darkness seemed to dominate, and I was searching for the light. In an effort to find brightness, I hitch-hiked from Nebraska through RMNP and over to Steamboat. There, with a pack on my back, I wandered into the deep, dark forest looking for light. After a week I emerged smelly, dirty, tired, and lonely. My perspective had changed. I had quit focusing on what I didn’t have. The mountains had helped me realize how much I did have - family, friends, and the wonderful people I worked with. I’d realized, my world was truly full of joy. Since that time, the bright light of an optimistic perspective has always guided my life.

From that point on, Estes Park became my go-to vacation spot. There were hikes to Sky Pond, Ouzel Falls, the three lakes, and on and on. Always a walk into the light. Elk rut was amazing, to capture photos on my Canon Rebel that Andre Agassi had convinced me to buy. In the mid-1980s there was my first moose, a big-antlered bull who confronted me on the Green Mountain Trail.

Over the years, I’d spent nights in Lonigans dancing to Dick Orlean’s magical acoustic music. Dinner on the balcony at Mary’s Lake Lodge. Beers in outdoor seating with the sun rained down on us. Pizza at Bob and Tony’s where I’d written my name on a brick following my senior year in high school. And I’ve enjoyed Cowboy Brad Fitch singing in the park. Life during those visits motivated more dreams to be here.

One day, we visited an open house at a new vacation housing complex. Beautiful homes, I looked at the price sheet, and sighed. I knew living there would only be in my dreams. Yet five years ago, I retired, left the flatlands, and moved into an Estes Park home in that very same complex. Through hard work and determination, my dream had become a reality shared with my wife, Carolyn.

So now, nearly every day, I load my camera gear into my SUV and drive into RMNP. Last week on my birthday morning, I drove with the same sense of awe and wonder I’d experienced as a boy standing outside that little motel. The mountains surrounding me were my home. The valley’s filled with wildlife, my photographic canvas.

As I arrived at my first stop, I was greeted by a throng of like-minded photographers. Two moose wandered the meadow to the lake, friends chatted while looking through viewfinders, and then one person wished me happy birthday. It was followed by more wishes, hugs, and congratulations for living longer than a dinosaur. I was surrounded by good friends, good people, and talented photographers.

I stepped back looking up at the same mountain view I had absorbed time and again. I could have stood there forever - and plan to do so.

The Wild Horse Refuge

Thu, 14 Aug 2025 15:46:53 GMT

Horses Roam Free With Their Wild Spirit Restored

The Wild Horse Refuge was born out of necessity and compassion.

In 2020, I first visited Sand Wash Basin, 45 miles west of Craig near Maybell, CO. I knew little of the wild horses roaming there, but my curiosity peaked. As a young boy, I’d watched Little Joe of Bonanza TV fame ride his paint horse named Cochise, a black and white pinto. From there, the romantic idea of wild horses running free in the old west had intrigued me.

I will never forget that first visit to Sand Wash Basin. My initial sighting of a nearly white horse rolling on the ground, dust flying until the powerful horse was lost from sight. When the dust cleared, the muscular animal lumbered up, shaking the remaining dust away. He then fell into line behind a group of five horses in a cavalcade moving toward a nearby watering hole. It was a beautiful experience right out of the old west.

Then, in 2021, for a variety of reasons including environmental and managing herd size, the Bureau of Land Management, which manages the herd, gathered 684 horses to sell. This put the remaining wild horses within the Appropriate Management Level (AML) for the Horse Management Area (HMA) between 163 and 362 wild horses. (Bureau of Land Management)

The horses from this gathering were made available for adoption, losing their freedom as wild mustangs. Pat Craig, founder of The Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keenesburg, CO, would not have this. Thus, The Wild Horse Refuge was born out of necessity and compassion established as the largest mustang sanctuary in the United States. Currently, it supports over 200 wild horses with the potential for many more.

The Wild Horse Refuge is a private, non-profit sanctuary on 30,000 acres located 30 miles east of Sand Wash Basin. It is entirely for rescued mustangs that were removed from Colorado Herd Management Areas. Today, on the refuge the horses roam free with their wild spirit restored. ( wildhorserefuge.org )

Recently, on a trip to Sand Wash Basin to photograph the wild mustangs, I scheduled a tour of The Wild Horse Refuge. Greeted by Scott Beckstead, Chief Equine Programs Director, I was immediately struck by his caring commitment to the wild mustangs. With a background in law and a former commissioner on the Oregon Racing Commission, he explained to me, “I’m an equine guy.”

We hopped in his vehicle and headed down a road or path or historic covered wagon trail. It was hard to tell what to call the driving conditions of the “new” old west. Along the way we scared up several sage grouse, watched a dynamic golden eagle take flight, and Scott pointed out the collapsing remains of a one-room schoolhouse sitting on a remote hilltop.

The first horse band we encountered was Pinyon’s, a gorgeous pinto gelding with a white and sorrel pattern. Typically, the lead horse, sometimes stallions but most often mares, guides the group in making decisions about when to move and where to graze. From the vehicle, I worked to capture images as the horses looked our way in curiosity.

Continuing to follow the trail, sagebrush surrounded us and filled in between the ruts. We came upon a dried water hole surrounded by Miranda’s band. Different, beautiful colored horses of gray, sorrel, black, and pintos with color patterns stood in the heat. Scott said out loud, “It’s been so dry this summer.” He lifted his phone and sent a message to have a water truck ready when he returned. He would not let them be without water.

Driving on, we suddenly came upon a group of gray horses, nearly white, with one sorrel and a black marching in a cavalcade. Scott explained that based on genetic analysis, the horse's similarity was closest to Iberian Spanish breeds, some carrying a gene for lighter coat colors like palomino or cremello. “They are born darker, turning gray then eventually becoming nearly pure white with age.” I reached my camera out the window capturing the line of horses, dust flying from their hooves as they were guided by their leader, Riddler, to a water hole. The images captured were truly magical.

After a bit of a drive into the southern part of the refuge, we spotted a large group of horses off in the distance. Scott thought for a moment before maneuvering down a less traveled path. We found ourselves high on a hill looking down on forty wild mustangs grazing in the valley. Near them on the hillside were nine male horses Scott called, “The naughty nine.” They were all young, bachelor males. It was the old time image of a herd of wild horses ready to break into a gallop over the rugged western prairie.

When we returned to the refuge center, I thought of how time had changed us from rough and rugged to driving in an air conditioned SUV capturing images with a computerized camera. Little Joe would have laughed while riding away in a cloud of dust.

With a warm handshake, Scott thanked me. He had been generous with his time, but a water truck and some thirsty horses awaited. In a moment, he was in the truck and moving out onto the open range.

…out of necessity and compassion.

The Tundra Comes Alive

Thu, 07 Aug 2025 17:23:12 GMT

The Treeless Peaks Are Green Attracting Bull Elk

As a tour operator with RMNPhotographer Tours, we are on the tundra almost every day. From the day Trail Ridge Road opens around Memorial Day to early July when the gate to Old Fall River Road is unlocked to mid-October when the snow dictates both roads close, we are above 11,500 ft.

It gives me the opportunity to watch the tundra change from brown in early June to flowers popping out later in the month when the elk are beginning to migrate up. The fun varmints - the least chipmunks, golden mantled ground squirrels, speedy pika, and families of marmots are racing across the rocky tundra.

By July, the treeless peaks have turned green attracting groups of bull elk, their antlers growing an inch a day. Cow elk have brought their calves to the mountain top to feed in the cooler elevations, and when weather warms, they can be found lying on the patches of snow for air conditioned relief.

This year, more than past years, I have seen moose crossing the barren plateaus over the continental divide. While moose cows and calves tend to stay within the protection of the forest, the bull moose have been crossing at the peaks of Rocky Mountain National Park and moving toward green pastures in State Forest State Park.

Just this week, while on a tour we stopped in a pullout to watch a herd of elk. Covering the grassy hillside, the mountains of Wyoming were far off in the distance. My excited guests were awestruck by so many elk, an animal they had never seen. The guests counted, thrilled with the spectacle. Turning in excitement, one announced, “There are 128 elk.” I can hear him returning home, telling friends of the enormous amount of wildlife they had encountered, sharing video from his cell phone.

On another morning, bull elk, hanging out at the top, lined themselves along the road nibbling the fragile grasses of the well-developed tundra soil. Our tour guests were excited by the antlered road block. The tourists, used to seeing deer back home, were captivated by the massive elk. Their faces lit up at the double layers of brown fur that provided the elk warmth. More impressive were the fuzzy antlers that would become tines like ice-picks during the rut. Capable of fighting off challengers, they were also known to poke holes in the side of a car’s metal door when the driver’s curiosity caused them to drive too close.

On one special morning, six massive elk feed on the dwarfed willows around a small glacier pond. As we photographed these dynamic animals, more dynamic moose appeared over the ridge. Three bulls, two with nice sized antlers strode around the opposite side of the pond, stopping to step into the water, their heads down as they refreshed themselves.

The moose continued to move toward us as we backed away to ensure our safety. As we did, the moose stopped on the ridge before heading down toward the opposite valley. There with the morning sunlight behind them, we captured a beautiful silhouette of the bold creatures standing on top of the world.

Exhilarated, we drove to a rocky area along Trail Ridge Road. There, to the delight of the children on the tour, pika and marmots, with an occasional ground squirrel, jumped from rock- to-rock. Their mouths were full of flowers and grasses to line their den for the winter. Entertaining and cute, they would fly across the rocky outcrops to disappear into a small hole they called home.

Then, just as we approached the treeline going down, a special treat. Along the side of the road, hopping from brush to foot high pines and into the shrubs, we watched a snowshoe hare searching for food. “He’s so much bigger than the cottontails back home,” one guest exclaimed, “and he’s got white feet.” To them, this was a special moment in the mountains.

Life on the tundra is fully alive during the green of July and August. As the brown begins to return, the animals migrate to lower, warmer elevations while the varmints seek the shelter where they will sleep much of the winter.

I get it. I love the summer in Estes Park. And during the snowy parts of the winter, wildlife photography can create the white of incredible scenery surrounding the animals. But like the animals, a migration to warmer climates is in store.

If you ever make it to Clearwater Beach, Florida in February, look me up. We’ll go out and photograph tropical birds in 80 degree weather. Maybe we'll even capture an alligator lurking in the sweltering waters so much closer to the equator.

In any event, like hibernating marmots, we’ll be warm.

The Elk Just Kept Coming

Thu, 31 Jul 2025 12:12:10 GMT

There Must Have Been Two Hundred Elk

As a wildlife photographer, I spend many sunrises in Rocky Mountain National Park. Some days are absolutely incredible, other days “bottom-out” at wonderful. That’s the worst a day can be in RMNP. Wonderful.

Recently, one of those good days turned from special to unique. As I drove down from the tundra, a couple of cars were stopped up ahead. Several elk, mostly cows, were walking uphill approaching the tundra. Calves were beside them or in small groups being curious and playful.

Stepping out of my SUV, camera strap over my shoulder, I lifted to focus through the viewfinder. Ten, twenty elk filled the square. I lowered the camera looking at the vast mountainside. Elk were appearing from among the trees, lines of them, large groups all the way down the mountain. There must have been two hundred elk coming up toward me, maybe more. They just kept coming.

As they came within range of my 500 millimeter lens, I began to capture images. In a grassy area just below me, five calves gathered, three enjoying the greens while two laid watching their surroundings. They were a soft, reddish-brown with their distinctive white spots still predominant.

Then I heard a chirp, a mother calling for her baby, followed by a higher pitched chirp as one of the five answered. The calf stood, running up the hill to a waiting mother elk. Reaching her mother, the calf lifted its head as the cow’s neck extended outward and the two tenderly touched their noses.

Down the hill, as far as I could see, there were elk. A couple of yearling spike-bulls grazed on the way moving among the cows with a sense of independence having just begun their second year of life.

I was giddy at what I was experiencing. So many cow elk, yearlings, calves, new life, and summer greens as I captured image after image. I kept searching among them, scanning my view finder for that special picture.

Another chirp and another reunion of a cow and her calf. The cow was patient as the calf moved to nurse. For the first few weeks, the calves rely on their mother's milk, nursing from her multiple times a day. At this moment, the calf was aggressive, yearning for milk after the long walk up the mountain.

At one point, there were eleven elk calves within the confines of my camera’s viewfinder. Two cow elk stood behind them, watching and protecting. Calf groups provide a safe space for calves to interact, rest, and play. The calf nursery was watched over by cows taking “baby-sitting” turns, ensuring the safety of the herd’s young.

As the herd began to cross the road, two calves trotted to join their mother on a hillside of white wildflowers. Cows turned to their babies, encouraging them to move up the hill while behind me someone whispered, “Oh, how precious.”

I turned my camera back to capture more images down the hillside. Three calves stood together, their eyes casually watching the passing parade of mothers and children. In another group of four, one stood and walked among them, stepping over its young friends who stayed calmly unaffected in the grass.

Then from across the road and within the pines on the hillside, a feeble bugle could be heard. As I turned, so did a couple of the cow elk. Somewhere among the pines was a young bull elk practicing his mating call hoping for a time to come in September.

By the time most of the massive herd had crossed the road, they had found solace in the pines. Two hundred (plus) elk had begun to disappear into the foliage. How this happened, how so many six-hundred pound animals could disappear in a matter of minutes was a statement of how protective nature can be.

I could see spots of tan and brown, hints of their big bodies, the color of elk slipping from among the pines. I lifted my camera strap over my shoulder, my mirrorless camera with zoom lens hanging at my side, and I breathed in the crisp morning air.

The elk had given me a unique experience, and I was grateful for the images they’d allowed me to capture.

K-9: A Bold and Handsome Bull Moose

Thu, 24 Jul 2025 11:36:50 GMT

A Bold, Dynamic, Full-bodied Master of the Forest

There are a few moose in Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP) adorned with identifying necklaces - okay, I mean collars. This was done as a part of a NPS moose research project, and it has allowed us to identify and watch the bold bull moose with the collar K9.

Moose were first collared in 2017 for NPS research to track movement, health, population, and use of the habitat in RMNP. Sometime during the moose study, a young bull was collared with the number K9. Throughout the past few years, I’ve had the opportunity to photograph K9 who is now a big, bold, and beautiful bull moose.

What impresses me the most about K9 is his confidence and lack of fear. He wanders RMNP from mountain to meadow to lakes and roadsides. He is not intimidated by the many admirers who view him from afar as he feeds on willows and aqua grass during the early morning hours. Once full, he departs to rest in the marshy areas of willows and deep thicket.

A couple of years ago, I was able to see him swimming, the water deeper than his three to four foot legs that reach up combining with his body to stand six to seven feet tall at the shoulders. With his dynamic, bold antlers, K9 may reach eight to nine feet in his full height. Still, the lake water was deeper, and he swam with only his head and antlers rising from the water like a submarine.

I was delighted this year to see K9 early on. My first sighting of him in 2025 was in early March following an evening of snow. He was searching the brush for something possibly green to eat, and his new growing antlers were just nubs barely extending from his skull. At that point he had even braved to step outside of the park boundary. With only nubs, he didn’t look as bold or intimidating, though with his size he was still both.

Like all moose in Colorado, K9 is a Shiras moose. There are four North American moose subspecies, and the Shiras moose, also known as Wyoming moose, is the smallest. Characteristically, they have a rusty-brown to blackish-brown coat. Bulls weigh up to an impressive 1,200 pounds while cows can be as large as 800 pounds. Shiras moose live in mountainous, forested habitats where their favorite food of willows and aquatic vegetation is prevalent.

My first fascination with moose started around 1960 when I watched “‘Rocky and Bullwinkle.” Bullwinkle was depicted as a Western moose, native to western Canada and the second largest moose subspecies (after the Alaskan moose). Of course, I was fascinated because “Rocky and Bullwinkle” was the highest rated daytime network program on TV. It was preceded by American Bandstand, and by the mid-sixties, I had switched from the animated moose to songs that “had a good beat and were easy to dance to.” But I digress…

It’s been interesting to watch K9’s antlers grow. Moose antlers are shed following the rut, a process that helps them conserve energy during the winter months. Regrowing each spring, the soft, cartilage-filled nubs are called pedicels. They are covered in a velvet, skin-like coating. The velvet contains blood vessels that nourish the antler growth. Growing rapidly, sometimes as much as an inch a day, the antlers calcify in the late summer, shedding the velvet. Their dynamic full-grown antlers are crucial for attracting cows and asserting dominance during the mating season.

While K9’s antlers were nubs in March, their growth has been steady. It’s like watching a winter weathered animal grow from a bit beaten down by the harsh cold, transition throughout the summer to a bold, dynamic, full-bodied master of the forest with massive antlers ready to serve him well during the rut.

In early July, it was interesting to watch K9’s travels. From his appearance just outside the park in March, he moved into the meadows in May. As the weather warmed and the grass turned green, K9 followed the ripening foliage feeding along the way as he began moving up into higher elevations.

Early in July, K9 fed on the meadow willows and aqua grass of the lakes. One day, as I watched this ritual, he left a lake moving up the valley. Two days later, I happened upon K9 in a high altitude mountain willow field about five miles from the lake I’d seen him leave. A day later he was striding above 11,500 feet across the tundra, his long legs serving him well in his travels.

When he will make an appearance again, is up to K9. It may be at lower elevations in the fall as his hormones swell with the rut. Or he may decide to wander over the continental divide to a quieter meadow away from the hectic presence of people as he searches for new food sources.

Who knows…maybe in his Colorado travels, he’ll even meet a friendly squirrel he can call “Rocky.”

Fly Varmints

Thu, 17 Jul 2025 19:03:50 GMT

Varmints - Troublesome and Mischievous Animals

You’ve heard of the Flying Wallendas, the high-wire family act performing since 1780. Originally known as the Great Wallendas, in 1940 after an accident in Akron, Ohio, where they fell from the wire but landed safely, a journalist reported they "fell so gracefully that it seemed as if they were flying." Thus, the Flying Wallendas.

The name has become a cliche, and pops into my mind every time I see flying varmints. Quick and mousey, they scurry like a pinball over rocky terrain. Try photographing a varmint, those troublesome and mischievous rodent-like animals. Try holding a camera while keeping the pinball in the viewfinder. Every now and then you lock in for an instant and capture one of the critters in flight.

You’ve seen them scurrying in the brush and trees, pointing, “there’s one.” Then in the next instant, they are gone. I like to photograph varmints living on the tundra, among the rocks and in the wide open grassland where the trees won’t grow. To find them, I watch for the slight movements, try to focus my camera, and every now and then, I get lucky and capture one leaping as if taking off.

Least chipmunks and golden mantle ground squirrels, often confused for each other but having specific differences, scurry with their tails held high. It might seem as if this is done to keep their tails from being run over by the cars traveling the roads these varmints play on. In fact, it’s their agility and speed that helps them evade predators. They primarily run with their tails up to secure balance. The tails help them maintain stability while their limbs are rapidly moving like the proverbial squirrel on a treadmill.

Another rodent, Wyoming ground squirrels are bigger than a golden mantle but more like a small prairie dog. They are known for darting in and out of their underground burrows for safety, especially during the morning hours when they’re feeding. Comical creatures, their habit of lounging on rocks in the sun, sometimes with grass sticking out of their mouths, can be quite comical. Call them a tanned, fat cheeked Wallenda.

Prairie dogs, on the other hand, are rodents in the squirrel family. They are known for their complex burrow systems which they share with their family structure. Within that family structure, they are huggers. We might see them at the entrance mounds to their burrows acting all romantic. Hugging and kissing, their actions are actually a form of greeting reinforcing their social bonds with the basic family unit in a prairie dog town.

One morning, on the Colorado prairie, I observed a female prairie dog watching over her four pups as one ran, leaped in the air, and reached out to tackle a sibling. It was a playful, tag-team adolescent wrestling match as they tumbled and rolled like those gracefully falling Wallendas. Then I heard their mother’s high pitched, distinctive call. Above them hovering in the slight breeze was a burrowing owl searching for breakfast. As all four pups ran for safety, the owl swept down only to be denied when the varmints disappeared into their underground home.

The yellow-bellied marmots, the largest rodent native to Colorado, is common on the tundra. There, they earned their nickname “whistle pig” for the quick, high-pitched whistle sound that sends warnings from one to the other. When they run, leaping like superman, legs reaching outward as if to fly, they look more like a blimp then a Flying Wallenda. Running and jumping, chasing and scurrying, they bounce more then fly over the rocks, short legs stretched out as if they have “Goodyear” sign emblazoned on their bellies.

My favorite Flying Wallenda varmint is not actually a rodent. The pika’s actual biological classification places them closer to rabbits. Speedy little animals, capturing an image with your camera can be challenging and therefore special. This time of year they fill their dens with winter supplies of grasses and wildflowers. Pika will scurry from rock to rock, moving with impressive speed and agility to a patch of flowers. There they nibble the wildflower, filling their mouths with yellow and red blooms before running and leaping from rock to rock back to their den. Like the patriarch of the Great Wallendas circus troupe, Karl, their flying-like talent is impressive.

As if they were the Wallenda in the circus, varmints entertain us with their animated actions and attempts to fly, but they never do reach great heights. With an extended stretch, their furry little front legs reach outward as their hind legs push powerfully from the rocks to, just for a moment, send them airborne.

The Unique Rocky Mountain Arsenal

Sun, 13 Jul 2025 22:23:35 GMT

An 11-mile Wildlife Loop of Native Colorado Animals

I’m working on a photo project of Colorado animals. It requires images of whitetail deer. I have whitetail deer pictures from Iowa and Nebraska, probably some other states too, and a whole bunch of beautiful mule deer from Colorado and RMNP. But I had to go in search of Colorado whitetail deer.

On a Monday morning, I drove down the canyon to Lyons, catching the Denver traffic just past Boulder. After agonizing stop-and-go traffic, even at 5:30 AM, I made it to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge. Just northeast of downtown, for free you can drive the 11-mile wildlife loop seeing the native animals that call the Refuge home.

The sun was barely up, when my first animal sighting was a small group of deer. I examined the tail with a white underside raised like an alarm and antlers grow from a single main beam. Yahoo! I celebrated. Six whitetail bucks. I angled my SUV to the side of the road, sun behind me, and began capturing the images I sought.

The deer cooperated, even from the middle of a field, Their heads up while standing among the wildflowers, their antlers were covered in velvet, half grown, and their coats had a beautiful reddish glow. My camera was in action, and I was excited to capture images of the handsome bucks knowing I could check them off my list. Just as the sun peaked over Denver International Airport, my whitetail deer mission was already accomplished.

Excited about the images, I headed onto the wildlife loop drive, passing Lower Derby Lake where I had captured bald eagle images this past winter. Just beyond it swallows darted about in a random, scattered pattern when suddenly a black-crowned night heron flew from under a bridge. My camera was set for “bird speed,” and I captured a few shots as the heron floated into a tree, disappearing among the green leaves.

Around the next bend was my first spotting of black-tailed prairie dogs. As I put the window down, my camera extended out, the repetitious prairie dog barks started. They warned of a stranger with a camera. Gathering around their dens, the basic family unit or coterie included an adult female and her young offspring. Cute little varmints, the mothers would sit up all “adorable-like” and watch me while their young ones peeked from their den opening.

In the distance, a lone bison stood among acres of green and yellow grassland brightened by the golden hour sun. With waves of a blue sky and colorful grassland, the deep brown animal symbolized strength, resilience, and abundance from a time long past in the old west.

I kept spotting prairie dogs, most too far away to capture the image I hoped for, when I saw a bird hovering. Wings flapping but staying in one place in the sky, I watched as the burrowing owl, on the hunt, looked down upon the young prairie dogs. As its wings flapped and the owl held steady in the sky, my camera was in action. Then the owl swooped down, flying low at the level of the prairie sunflowers, and the warning barks of the prairie dogs yelped loud. With the alert signal, the mammals dove for cover into their underground dens.

Further down the loop, a herd of a hundred or so bison were scattering in rest on the meadow. Among the dark adults were the red dogs, month old calves sleeping by their mothers. Nicknamed for their reddish-brown coat, in another two months they would grow and transition into the dark, adult brown coat. Watching the herd, older and more dominant bulls wandered solitarily in the distance, a natural consequence of their social structure and competitive nature.

As I photographed the bison, I heard the song of birds, dickcissels and meadowlarks. Dickcissels are a grassland bird with a distinctive song. Its yellow breast with a black "V" on the throat adds to its beauty. Similarly, the western meadowlarks with their bright yellow breasts made them distinctive in the grasslands. In the spring, they perched singing on soapweed yuccas, invasive mulleins, or fence posts. I was having photography fun, capturing them singing and taking flight.

Turning south near mile marker eight, the prairie dogs were up-close and personal. Even from my car, I was able to capture images of the young dogs running, playing, and tackling each other as they rolled among the buffalo grass. Adults sat up eating sprigs while watching the stranger taking pictures from his car.

Along a fence, a mule deer doe grazed, and a newborn fawn was sleeping peacefully in the grass. I watched her, waiting for the fawn to wake, but she was deep in sleep, protected by her mother.

With that last moment of wildlife serenity, I found my own peace. I lifted my camera to my eye, scrolling through the images I’d captured. A variety of mammals and birds ran across the screen, and I was happy with the many unique images.

I was most happy with the whitetail deer bucks. Beautiful animals with summer coats and velvet antlers, I now had captured an image of a Colorado whitetail deer. My project was moving forward.

Don't be a Tourist Grump

Fri, 04 Jul 2025 01:54:02 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

I have to admit, I can be a bit grumpy while caught on our mountain roads behind a slow moving tourist. The other day, I went down Big Thompson Canyon hitting a peak speed of 26 mph. I thought, don’t they see the slow vehicle pull off sign? Ahead of me, the car leading a line of twenty plus vehicles was a Mini-Cooper, a go-kart-like, retro-styled subcompact car.

When my sarcasm came out with, “Can they go any slower?” my wife calmly replied, “Brad, look at the car. They’re pedaling as fast as they can.”

The worst is when Old Fall River Road opens, and someone is pushing their limit at ten mph. They are either terrified of the heights or what might lurk deep in the forest or both, oblivious to the line of cars trapped behind them.

On Old Fall River, I always know where I want to go. It may be to capture a sunrise image above the treeline, a moose eating a breakfast of dew covered willows, or an elk grazing on the tundra. But on this one-lane, one-way dirt road, someone up-ahead who has never driven in the wilderness is going at a walker’s pace, keeping me from my destination.

When I hit Trail Ridge Road again, the gods of luck have worked against me. Up ahead, the same car from Old Fall River is putting along, thinking the middle yellow line is what they should be driving over. Horrified, they never dare to challenge the highway’s edge. Certain words tend to sneak out of my mouth while the radio plays 60’s songs like “Good Vibrations” to balance my attitude. Then I notice their license plate is Colorado red. Of course, a rental vehicle.

Earlier this spring, a funny thing happened on the way to any possible photo opp. As I traveled Bear Lake Road, along the edge were elk feeding. Big, beautiful, velvet antlered bull elk. A line of cars had already formed. Reminding myself to be patient, my mind kept saying, “Don’t they know better than to stop on the road?”

The first part of the answer was, “No, their tourists.” The second part of the answer came as the cars slowly began to move. Families driving from the opposite direction were hanging out the window. A young boy, maybe six, pointed and yelled at me, “There’s an elk.” His excited voice was full of wonder. Yes, there were elk. They were beautiful, and if you’re six years old and have never seen an elk, your vacation has just become fantastical.

I glanced at his parents. Dad was driving with a happy grin as he looked back over his shoulder. His wife was leaning across him as he slowed again. Her cell phone was up, and she was capturing pictures of the magnificent animal. Joining the six year old in the back window were a younger sister and older brother, all with big, happy smiles of amazement.

More cars passed, and the driver’s smiles made me smile. Each car inched along, unwilling to leave the elk as they grazed. It was a special moment for them, a moment of mountain discovery and wildlife like an American safari.

Car after car putting along, the occupants showed smiles that were of a special moment. For them, an elk on the side of the road was unique, powerful, and handsome. They had antlers that were four feet long, 20 pounds or more each, the likes of which they had never seen.

The experience that morning on Bear Lake Road made me reflect on my early visits to Rocky Mountain National Park. You know, when I was a tourist.

Once, years ago on Old Fall River Road just past Marmot Hill, there were two bull elk standing in the middle of the road. Side-by-side, they stared at me, both elk heads were full frame in my old Canon Rebel camera viewfinder. I parked in the middle of the road, jumped from the SUV, and began capturing beautiful images. Cars began to gather behind me, but I was unaware. Slowly, as the elk began to move, I slipped back into my vehicle, excited to have one of my first good elk pictures.

Today, I watch the tourist’s faces, see the smiles, and remember when I was one of them. I was a slow driving, camera welding, tourist with little understanding about mountain driving etiquette. My only focus was seeing the incredible wildlife of RMNP. I must have smiled just like the tourists I see today, big and happy over their discovery of elk along the road.

So, I have grown more patient, more appreciative of the slow moving, wide eyes, jumbo smiling visitor to our park. I once shared their smiles and still feel the same wonder of the views and animals in RMNP.

But…every now and then there is a tourist in the slow moving traffic who begins honking his horns. Horns I have little patience for, but that’s a whole nother article.

A Fox of a Different Color

Thu, 26 Jun 2025 12:36:11 GMT

Colorado Foxes Range in Color From Red to Black

I saw a fox the other day. I haven’t seen many in RMNP, but when I do, it’s a moment of beauty. Often associated with cunning and intelligence, they can also symbolize intuition and trickery as if a cartoon fox. Colorado foxes are known for their beautiful coats and colorful fur variations ranging from red to black.

About sixty years ago, I saw my first fox draped around my grandmother’s shoulder. There were dried heads clinging to the next tail in a loop of three foxes. The fox fur stole was a popular fashion accessory in the mid-20th century. Seeing those three foxes hanging around my grandmother’s neck impacted my decision to hunt only with my camera.

A couple of years ago, I was out on a RMNPhotography Tour, and we were photographing a moose. Standing on a hillside, looking out over the marsh of a willow field, a bull moose had just laid down. Resting would allow for digestion of the willow twigs he had just eaten. We knew once he was down, he would stay down for some time, so we began to pack up our camera gear.

That’s when the fox appeared. A bit surprised, I pointed but stayed quiet. My photography friend did the same, but our cameras were back up. I was sure the red fox would scoot away as soon as he noticed us. Instead, he began hunting voles right there on the hillside.

First, he would stand still, unmoving, watching the ground for grass to be disturbed. When he saw movement, he would jump into an arch and nose dive down through the grass. Then in the next moment, he would sit back, his breakfast captured.

All the while, our cameras were in action. We captured him watching us, sitting, jumping, and eating. His focus was more on the meal than the intruding photographers. And we took pictures but did not move, trying not to disturb, only wanting to capture the moment.

Early on another morning, I was driving up a road when around the curve I saw movement. First, it was a red fox feeding in the grass. She was beautiful in her red coat and youthful face looking innocent. Then more movement, and another fox, maybe a brother or sister appeared.

I gasped. My first silver fox or was it a black fox. It was hard to tell. The silver fox is black with a frosted look of silver-tipped hairs, while a black fox is entirely black due to a genetic mutation.

While I had seen pictures, I had never seen a red fox of this color variation. His black coat and white-tipped tail highlighted the yellow of his eyes. Relatively unique in Colorado, the silver or black morph appears in about 10% of the red fox population. This was a rare moment, and, of course, I was capturing photos.

Then last week, I was on an early morning photography journey through RMNP. My photography partner was driving when we both saw another photographer intently searching the hillside. We slowed looking down the hill. There, standing unmoving was a gray animal with yellow and white highlighted fur.

My friend squinted, “Is that a lynx?” Without waiting for him to stop, I grabbed my camera, slipped off my seatbelt, and gripped the door handle ready to open it. A lynx. This could be the photography chance of a lifetime. I knew there are a limited number of lynx in Colorado since their reintroduction starting in the late 1990s.

He stopped the car, I was out, and my camera went into action. Immediately I was disappointed. It wasn’t a lynx. Instead it was a multi-colored fox in dark grays and black with white highlights. Was it a cross fox?

The cross fox color variation is a yellowish body with darker fur highlighted by a black cross marking over its shoulders and back. Though rare, cross fox variations of a red fox naturally occur. Through my camera lens, I looked for the dark cross, but the remains of his long winter coat made it hard to distinguish.

Still, he entertained us moving over logs like a skilled tight-rope walker. He was on the hunt as he searched the under-brush. In and out of the tall grasses, he would disappear, camouflaged by his unique coat. Then he would reappear, glancing back at us as if posing for the photo. It was a wonderful twenty minutes of wildlife photography.

Lowering my camera, I watched him. I was glad, even relieved that changing attitudes and public awareness about the ethical treatment of animals has significantly moved the fashion industry away from using animal fur. I think, with some significant explanation, even my grandmother would have agreed.

So I celebrated the images I’d captured. Red fox variations, whether I had red, crossed, silver, or black foxes, were a unique and wonderful wildlife photography opportunity.

Maybe one day I’ll photograph a lynx too.

Trail Ridge Road CAN Close Anytime

Thu, 19 Jun 2025 13:59:49 GMT

At the 12,183 ft. Rain Can Be Treacherous Snow

It was a cloudy morning, rain falling as we drove over Trail Ridge Road. The conversation with my friend Marcos Quintana went from family and friends to the weather. At the 8,949 ft, Kawuneeche Valley may have rain, but at the 12,183 ft. peak of Trail Ridge Road, that rain can be treacherous, icy, blowing snow.

Three times in my life, I’ve been to Kawuneeche Valley when such rain was falling, and in those three times, I’ve tried to return to Estes Park only to find a ranger manning the gate at the Colorado River Trailhead, politely shaking his finger, “No, no, no. Too dangerous. Trail Ridge Road is closed.”

The first time it happened, I was naive. Probably around 1980, I had driven from Lincoln, NE across the flat, uninspiring prairie to the Nebraska Sandhills and into a less inspiring eastern Colorado. Engaging in their own right, they are not the Rocky Mountains of Estes Park.

Arriving mid-afternoon, I was excited to be back in Estes Park. With enthusiasm, my younger self kept going. I drove up Trail Ridge Road and over to Kawuneeche Valley. While the skies had darkened, the rain was slight as I headed back.

That’s when I saw him. His official RMNP patrol vehicle blocked my path at the north end of the valley. In his positive, public relations voice, the ranger explained Trail Ridge Road was closed. Exasperated, non-verbals expressed the not so positive words bouncing about my brain as he explained the 4-hour drive back to Estes.

The drive was picturesque from Granby along Highway 125 to Rand and the dirt road to Gould. Then it was over Cameron Peak Pass to the roller coast of CR 27 through Masonville and Big Thompson Canyon. Thirteen hours after I left Lincoln, I arrived at Lonigan’s. Dick Orleans was tuning his magnificent acoustic guitar. That’s when my twenty-six year old brain said, “Party on.”

The second time it happened, years later, I reminded myself, “You should know better.” But the third time…

It was Trail Ridge Road’s opening day of the season, and I had a friend and her sixteen year old daughter visiting from Chicago. I enthusiastically offered to take them on a drive through RMNP to Grand Lake and back.

Early in the drive, I knew where a nice sized bull moose had bedded down. My friend was excited while her daughter’s greatest concern was that she’d lost her cell signal. Guiding them to an open space, we could view the beautiful creature. As I stood in awe, she said “This is so amazing, Brad. Thanks so much.” Her daughter was intense, capturing cell phone pictures of her first moose.

While having lunch at Grand Lake, the clouds blew in and the skies turned ominous. Concerned, I explained the situation and the four hour drive if Trail Ridge Road closed. We did a quick loop in Grand Lake, each of them buying a t-shirt. As the clouds became more concerning, we grabbed scoops of mint chip ice cream to go.

We pushed through Kawuneeche Valley, but to my horror at the Colorado Trailhead pullout, there stood the ranger welcoming us to a closed gate. In his pleasant voice, he explained, “Sorry, it’s too icy up there.” Thanking him, I reassured her, “I’ll get us home, but it will take some time.”

Passing beautiful, even magnificent) mountain homes on the isolated Highway 125, her Chicago voice laughed at the contrast, “It’s miles to town from here. Where are the schools? There aren’t any neighbors. How do these people get groceries?” Then her daughter added, “And there’s no cell signal. How does anyone live here?”

When we reached Rand, I turned on the cut-off dirt road to Gould, and my friend's eyes grew big. “Is this safe? Do you have 4-wheel drive?” She looked at me like - well - a city girl lost in the mountains. From the back seat, her daughter moaned, “I still can’t get a cell signal.” I smiled back, “But it is beautiful.”

Going east from Gould through State Forest State Park, I pulled to the side of the road, pointing. Moving among the willows was a cow moose with twin calves several days old. The daughter squealed, my friend gasped, and we pulled over watching them move just off the highway.
“They’re so cute,” they said in unison.

Before we reached Ft. Collins, I turned onto CR 27, the roller coaster road to Masonville. On the weaving, rolling, hilly curves of the roller coaster drive, I could see my friend’s hand gripping the arm rest while her daughter yelled, “Wee, go faster.”

By the time we reached Big Thompson Canyon, my friend was laughing at the experience. Magnificent, isolated mountain homes, newly born moose, the beauty of Cameron Peak Pass, and the drive lined with the lime green leaves of the spring’s new Aspen growth. Then in Big Thompson Canyon there were bighorn rams feeding along the road. I pulled into a turnout where we watched the animals. My friend turned to me smiling, “Thank you for this.”

When we reached Estes Park, her daughter exclaimed with delight, “I got a cell signal!.” Their mountain adventure, longer than anticipated, had brought them back to civilization.

Photos by Brad Manard and Courtesy of RMNP/NPS.

Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 17:48:11 GMT

Known as Betty Dick’s or the Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn, it stands alone as a statement of the past

The first time I saw the barn, I had a feeling that both exuded and inspired a sense of history. It stood isolated in a field, reminiscent of a time past as mountains rose up in the background. It is on the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park in Kawuneeche Valley. Known as Betty Dick’s Barn or the Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn, it stands alone as a statement of the past.

Homesteaded in 1914 by Nelson C. House, the ranch barn was built in 1942. Today it is part of RMNP and one of my favorite areas to meander about with hopes of spotting wildlife.

It started five years ago as I began guiding RMNPhotographer Tours. We’d take guests to see the barn. It was a two block walk down an ancient farm road into the Kawuneeche Valley meadow. For many guests, wearing unfamiliar hiking boots and their eyes open watching for dark, moving spots called moose, the walk to the barn was a great wilderness adventure.

Standing in the foreground of the Never Summer Mountain Range, RMNPhotographer guests love seeing the old homestead. This includes the first cabin, eventually used as a bunkhouse, and the house that still stands on the bank of the Colorado River. For guests unfamiliar with such wilderness, their trek around the original homestead is an adventure back in time.

The barn is the highlight representing a rare type of structure found almost exclusively in southern Louisiana while the barn’s construction is of natural materials from the RMNP area. While RMNP once had many lodges, inns, ranch houses and homesteads, the National Park Service has worked over many years to restore the landscape to its natural setting, The Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn is one of the few remaining historic structures in the park.

I remember on one of my first tours, my guests thought I was an amazing guide. I explained I was going to do some quick scouting. Walking over the bridge and down the trail of a road toward the barn, moments later I returned. Excited, I guided them a hundred yards to point out a good sized bull moose in the meadow. They were thrilled, and I was a super guide.

Then there was the early June day when one of our tour guests had a bad knee. We parked along the Colorado River as she sent this super guide and his guest off in search of wildlife. We walked and maneuvered, searched and hoped to see something, but it was not our day. When we returned to the vehicle, the hobbled guest asked what we saw. “Nothing,” replied the not so super guide.

That’s when she opened her phone saying, “While I was sitting here waiting, this happened.” There on her phone was the beautiful, full frame image of a moose calf standing belly deep in the Colorado River, her mother watched over her from the riverside. The guest shrugged, smiling, “They just walked out of the woods into the river, right here while I was sitting in the car.” Such is the life of a sometimes super guide.

For me, I like walking the land, over the bridge to the barn, and around the trail to the old homestead. The buildings, for the most part, survived the 2020 East Troublesome Fire that skirted all around it. Among the charred trees, I see the house on the bank of the Colorado River, and I envision the history, the families, children, and ranchers that embraced this land in a tougher time.

There were multiple landowners between 1914 and when RMNP fully took over the property in 2006. The most interesting part of its history may be in the last few years. In the 1980’s much of the land was sold to the NPS, and the final owners, Fred (who died in 1992) and Betty Dick, leased the land until 2005. It was at that point that the lease ended, and the NPS worked to have Betty leave the property.

After much legal maneuvering by the 83 year old Betty Dick, in 2006 Congress passed the “Betty Dick Residence Protection Act” which was then signed by President George W. Bush. The legislation gave Betty "life estate" rights to use part of the land and the cabin for the rest of her life. Sadly, Betty Dick died months after the proclamation was signed.

As a historical statement, the house, outbuildings, and Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn stand empty in the middle of the RMNP wilderness. Such was the day on June 6, 2022, when I photographed a bull moose and three cows crossing the Colorado River. Anticipating their path, I circled around capturing them trotting across the old homestead with the Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn as the photograph’s backdrop. It was an image of then and now.

Today, the barn stands as a memorial to a time past. It reminds us of the hard era and hardy people who came before us to this mountain meadow. They were the people before we cherished it as a national park. The Little Buckaroo Ranch Barn is a beautiful, wooden-warn memory of what was and a nice place for a meandering walk through the meadow today.

Trail Ridge Road - It's High!

Thu, 05 Jun 2025 19:48:56 GMT

Trail Ridge Road - A Love-Hate Relationship

I have a history with Trail Ridge Road. At first it was a love-hate relationship.

In 1972, I first drove over the 12,183 high point. I loved the view, my breath taken by the magnificence of looking across Forest Canyon, seeing the dynamic peaks of Mount IDA and Longs Peak, and off in the distance, the Never Summer Range. Then just past Rock Cut at the curve that peaks Trail Ridge Road as the highest highway in the US, I looked down. That was the hate part of the relationship - looking down.

Today, having driven it literally hundreds of times, I still feel queasy at that 12,183 feet.

Trail Ridge Road, including eight miles above 11,500 ft, is the primary access to RMNP. The road is a wonder for many who pass over the top. Each day throughout the five months of heavy tourism, I guide others Over the Top. Our RMNPhotographer tour guests almost all ask our guides to drive. Many wouldn’t go without us. Chicken, I think? Yep, chickens like I was in 1972 with the queasiness still lingering today.

Purchased by the US in 1803 as part of the Louisiana Purchase, these Rocky Mountains have always been an intriguing land. From the Ute Indians to the daring mountaineers of today, RMNP offers adventure. For some, driving Trail Ridge Road is their greatest adventure.

Enos Mills, the Father of Rocky Mountain National Park traversed the roadless land up and down for many years prior to earning it the national designation of Rocky Mountain National Park in 1915. Having championed the nation's tenth national park, Enos Mills once said, "In years to come when I am asleep beneath the pines, thousands of families will find rest and hope in this park." His vision, I’m sure, has been exceeded today with nearly 4.5 million visitors annually.

Fall River Road, the original road to the top of RMNP, opened in 1920, traversing the Continental Divide. By 1930, the Fall River route was too narrow for the increasing numbers of vehicles. Deep snow and treacherous snow slides plagued the route as did the limited scenic views through the forest.

During the Great Depression of the 1930s, President Franklin Roosevelt offered the New Deal to put people to work through the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). With labor readily available, construction on Trail Ridge Road began in September 1929. The first 17.2 mile section was completed from Deer Ridge (8,937') to Fall River Pass (11,794) in July 1932. Professionally-designed, Trail Ridge Road maneuvered through the meadows and forests taking drivers to spectacular heights eventually reaching Grand Lake in 1938.

Construction was challenging due to the rugged environment and difficult conditions. Can you imagine working on the edge in 1930s tractors and graders, using horses and a gas-powered steam shovel to build the road. Talk about queasy.

Yet you must admire the foresight of the planners, those who designed not only the process but the care for our land. Planning efforts sought to preserve the natural landscape by reducing scarring on the land surrounding. Using natural materials, dikes were constructed to minimize scarring and the impact of rock blasting debris. Disturbed rocks were placed lichen-side up, and tundra sod was carefully placed on road banks. Rock formations maintained scenic "window frames” and surrounding rocks were used for rock walls.

Today, what we take for granted and hope will open by Memorial Day, Trail Ridge Road conditions continually challenge our brave and determined RMNP staff. Plowing begins in mid-April, taking an average of 42 days to complete. The rotary plow clears the center line while a second rotary plow widens the road. Where snow drifts reach thirty-five feet, a caterpillar climbs atop and knocks the snow down.

Opening Trial Ridge Road costs approximately $36,000 with another $20,000 plus to open Old Fall River Road. Our RMNP staff does an amazing job. Fighting to find the edge of the road, with late spring snows and dangerous winds, they sometimes must plow and replow. Their determination and skill clears Trail Ridge Road to give us confidence we can drive it with manageable queasiness.

Then in 2022, a 54-year-old man from Florida was driving an SUV near the peak of Trail Ridge Road. With experience driving the highest road in Florida peaking at 347 ft, he made a harrowing mistake. His SUV leaped over the edge, plummeting straight down the treacherous slope for 500 feet.

Luckily, he survived as only Evil Knievell could. Yet today, each time I drive Trail Ridge Road, at the point his SUV turned down instead of up, I think of his terror. Like a horrifying roller coaster without a track, I shudder at the thought.

That’s why I still feel queasy at 12,183 ft.

Source: National Park Service at https://www.nps.gov/romo/learn/historyculture/trail_ridge_road_history.htm & https://www.nps.gov/romo/learn/historyculture/brief.htm

Some photos courtesy of the National Park Service

Jam's New Boyfriend

Sat, 31 May 2025 17:45:06 GMT

Quill and Jam Were Like a Teenagers in Love

Jam is a playful, entertaining five-and-a-half year old Yellowstone grizzly bear. She rolls in the snow, plays on the hillsides, and looks like a teddy bear with the personality of the sweet, stuffed bear you had as a child. Yet powerful and dark in color, she is not only cuddly, but she is a grizzly, strong and fierce. And at five-and-a-half years old, she has a boyfriend.

The daughter of Rasberry and the granddaughter of Blaze, Jam is the sister of Snow. Snow and Jam are sometimes seen in the same area of Yellowstone National Park. This summer, Quill, bear #288, has taken a liking to Jam, and Jam seems to be happy about the situation.

I go to Yellowstone each year, the week before Memorial Day weekend. I go with one primary purpose. To photograph grizzly bears. They are bold, powerful, and terrifying in their presence, and what we know they are capable of. They are soft with fierce intimidation.

I had the chance to photograph Jam in her playfulness. She was being stalked by Quill, and she seemed to like it. Also on the hillside was Snow with her two-year-olds, Rain and Storm. At one point, Quill took an interest in Snow, but it was fleeting as Snow moved away and Quill turned his interests back to Jam.

Quill would follow Jam like a teenager interested in his first girlfriend. As rain fell, Quill nuzzled Jam, and Jam looked sweet in her response. Thus began the mating ritual which can last for several days, even weeks. During this time, the bears are inseparable as Quill courts Jam in an intense time of seduction.

I had the opportunity to observe two days of this ritual. Jam was always working her way along the hillside as Quill followed. Periodically, he would nuzzle Jam which led to playful bites and wrestling games. Quill would wrap his arms around Jam, pulling her in, and she would smile as it happened.

Then she would break away, freeing herself from her boyfriend’s intentions. At one point, a few feet from Quill, Jam picked up a stick and returned to her playful ways. The stick was her youthful toy lifted in her mouth like a baton ready to be twirled.

While she did, Quill noticed Snow feeding on the hillside with her two cubs. As Snow, Rain, and Storm fed, Quill moved down the hill toward them. Snow, the good and protective mother she is, did what many female grizzly bears do. She moved toward the road and the throng of photographers where the male grizzlies avoided going.

Standing in the right spot, my camera was up, and I captured the family of three walking toward us as Quill watched from the background. It was a beautiful moment as Snow moved to protect her children. Once she knew Quill was not following, she changed directions, moving parallel to the road where the sweet taste of mountain grass once again attracted her family.

That’s when Quill turned his attention back to his baton twirling girlfriend. As he approached Jam, she dropped her stick and moved up the hill away from where Snow and her babies fed.

When Quill reached her, her nuzzling mood returned. Their heads came together as Jam pressed her romantic intentions into the shoulder of her boyfriend. Then Quill’s snout pushed into Jams, and the interaction began.

Playfully nipping at each other, their teeth and dominant fangs could be seen. Quill moved up on Jam wrapping his arms around her. Their bites were gentle, their eyes warm, and the tussling began.

Then Jam rolled onto her back and Quill’s mouth went to his girlfriend, his monster claws reaching for her face as if in a movie scripted kiss. It was enough to draw Jam in. She loved the playfulness, the sensuality of the moment tumbling onto her back submissive to her boyfriend.

I photographed such interactions several times over the two-day period. Grizzlies typically reach sexual maturity at five to eight years old, Jam being five-and-a-half. Was this her first encounter with a male grizzly? Was she impregnated, and would this be her first winter to give birth? Would she emerge from hibernation in May 2026 with Cubs of the Year (COYs) in tow?

Whatever was to come, Jam had a new boyfriend who was cute, playful, and attentive. She loved the ritual, curious in her own sensuality, and their interactions, if lucky, will enhance Yellowstone’s grizzly populations.

My only hope is that I am there to photograph her emergence from the den, her stumbling and curious COYs in tow.

Serenity and the Transition to Tourist Season

Fri, 23 May 2025 12:24:53 GMT

Serenity Overwhelmed with an Invasion of Tourists

The snow had continued to fall gently welcoming a new winter morning. I looked out the window toward Longs Peak. Big flakes had been building up leaving a half foot or more of white covering the ground. Stepping out my front door, the air was crisp. Not cold but crisp.

Heading for the Fall River Entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, the road was quiet, the mountain retreats were nearly empty, and I flashed back to a moment, years before. On a September night as I’d passed these condos, a reddish-phase black bear had been sitting on a dumpster likely smelling the original Bob and Tony’s pizza box discarded by a tourist.

Reaching the park, the fresh snow created a sense of serenity, and I was at peace. Around me, bright green pine needles supported piles of soft white snow, and I knew I was in a wonderland. Not Alice’s, but my own winter wonderland. The wonderland I had grown up with, visiting annually back when this resident had been a tourist.

I knew that come Memorial Day weekend, the serenity would be overwhelmed with an invasion of tourists. I too had once been a tourist (or in my case, a touron) riding the gondola lift to the top of Prospect Mountain.. Back then, at fourteen years old, I celebrated with the sweet flavor of the Colorado Cherry Company’s cider.

As a high school kid at the YMCA Camp, I’d climbed a small mountain. It was my first summit. I sat on top, picked up three pine cones, and taught myself to juggle. Throughout life, I continued juggling for friends, my sons, and eventually the beautiful giggling of my grandson.

As a young adult in the late 1970’s, I had hitch-hiked from Estes Park to Steamboat Spring for my first backpacking adventure. I caught a ride over Trail Ridge Road on a flat-bed truck driven by a hippie and his long-hair friend. While they laughed away in the cab, I was unprepared. Dressed in a tee-shirt and hiking shorts, I froze my tail end off in the open air of the flatbed. We submitted the road at 12,183 feet in a thirty mile an hour wind. Brrr!!!

I remember the time I saw an elk tucked into a formation of rocks, resting as tourists took pictures. When I developed the picture, I learned that I had not taken an elk, but a very big mule deer buck (I now know the difference). Somebody laughed at that story asking, “When do the deer turn to elk?”

A couple of years later, after summiting Old Fall River Road, I met my first moose on the trail to Green Mountain where he scared this touron into hiding behind a slender tree. As he passed by only feet away, fear and intimidation were real. The moose had violated the 120 ft. rule by about 110 ft.

Discovering Sprague Lake, I turned around looking back to the west. Spellbound, the water was crystal clear as the continental divide and Hallett Peak reflected a mirror image into the lake. It was an unexpected moment as a rush of awe shivered through me.

Not knowing any better, I hiked to Dream Lake and Lake Haiyaha in blister building tennis shoes balancing with a wooden stick of aspen I’d picked up along the trail. At Haiyaha, the lake captured my amazement with its natural blue beauty, but my legs took three days to recover.

Eventually, with my young sons, I played miniature golf, lost a race at the go-carts, and splashed in a water pool of the Big Thompson River. Like I had, they began to think of Estes Park as the place they had grown to love. Today, they continue to return to their mountain home.

I now guide tourists on our RMNPhotographer Tours. I smile at their naivety, mistakes, and silly statements knowing at one time in my less educated life, I had said and done the same things.

So when the tourists of 2025 slow the traffic on the loop, I think of my own growth from tourist to local. It took me sixty years to get here, and when I finally arrived, Estes Park welcomed me.

So as the summer tourists arrive this weekend, like me, it may change their lives. I know the serenity of winter is giving way to a congestion of tourists, and I smile knowing they are entering a world of dynamic wildlife, incredible scenery, natural beauty, and a town full of people welcoming them.

And who knows…as it did for me, a few days in Estes Park may just change their lives.

Red Fox of Yellowstone

Thu, 15 May 2025 12:39:52 GMT

The Fox Posed for Us, Smiling for the Camera

There is an area near Yellowstone where I’ve captured my best images of red fox. I’ve seen red foxes throughout Colorado, even a couple of silver foxes, but in this Yellowstone environment they are like moose in Horseshoe Park. They seem to pop up predominately and smile for the camera.

Everytime I drive this stretch of highway, my eyes are on alert for foxes. Adding to the beauty is the snow that’s still on the ground in May. Late May is my favorite time in Yellowstone. Fewer people, babies being born, and red foxes on snow covered terrain.

The first time I saw one there, we were driving along a narrow road, when I saw a black nose and red highlights peeking from the thick forest. Luckily, I was in the passenger seat. My wife, Carolyn, finds it safer if she drives when I’m looking for wildlife (which is all the time). I pointed, and my well versed partner eased the speed of the car as I lifted my lens out the window.

The fox posed for us, both curious and, I like to believe, smiling for the camera. Then he began trotting along the roadside. Carolyn easily moved beyond him. I turned, pointing my lens behind us, and captured images as the handsome fellow moved toward us.

The best fox last year in Yellowstone was the first fox. I was with a group of photographers, and we spotted him in an open field, yellowish-red against the snow. We exited the SUV, standing on the road’s edge watching him navigate the field.

Seeing he was moving west toward a stand of young pines, I guided my friends easily and quietly down the road. By the time he had disappeared into the trees, we were standing in front of them. There, we did not move. We waited. Eventually, we saw him peeking out from not far away. His yellowish-red was bright against the white snow among the green pines.

Our cameras were up, and as he stepped into the open, I captured my favorite fox photo as he posed looking our way among the colorful surroundings. He didn’t wait long, watching us, then moving back into the forest. Yet, in the moment he was there, I was thrilled with the image he allowed me to capture.

We saw six red foxes that morning. Some were cooperatively curious, others cautious and scooting off into saver surrounds. But with each, foxes did what foxes will do. They’d stop mid-trot and look back to see if we were following. Realizing we weren’t, that we were respecting his space, the fox would give us a moment to capture his beautiful image as he watched us.

One image that I really liked was a fox trotting across a snow covered field. That’s all there was, a white snowy background and a red fox on a mission. Beautiful!

The most unique experience was at a picnic pullout. The fox seemed unafraid, and I feared he had been fed by previous people unaware of the harm they could be doing in feeding the fox Dorito chips or the last bite of a hotdog bun.

We did not offer food, but watched the fox prance around with hope in his eyes. He was a beautiful animal, skinny with long hair transitioning from red to yellow the longer it got. At one point, he ran to an island in the Lamar River hoping from rock to rock as he crossed.

I moved into position to capture the image as he watched from the island. Then, unexpectedly, he began his trek back, hopping over rocks to a log until he was back in the picnic area. Then he began his hopeful hunt once again only to be disappointed as none of us wanted to contribute to his and past picnickers' bad habits.

At the end of a morning of foxes, I had several images I was excited about. The warm, delicate beauty of the canines showed through on those images, and I was thankful to have shared a few hours with red foxes.

Then we were off into Yellowstone. Off to find bison, coyotes, wolves, black bear, and the dynamic grizzly. The trip had started with wonderful fox images, and there were so many more incredible wildlife shots to capture.

Turkeys - A Beautiful Bird

Thu, 08 May 2025 12:36:01 GMT

Prism of Colors with an Ugly Head

My wife, Carolyn, loves images of moose and elk, big, dynamic ungulates. When I began doing more bird photography, she asked, “Why?” As the images I captured improved in detail, she began to appreciate eagles, osprey, and red-tailed hawks. She liked the predator birds. But when I began capturing shot after shot of turkeys, she drew the line.

Carolyn asked me, “Have you looked at their heads, those ugly lumps and bumps of red and blue? They’re like a bruised gravel pit with eyes.” Laughing, I countered with, “A beautiful blend of deep red and aqua blue. Plus, look at the details of their feathers and the way when the sun hits them, they glow like a prism of colors.” She responded with, “Prism of colors with an ugly head.”

Still, I think turkeys are such a unique and beautiful bird. In the spring, when the tom’s fluff up, they show a fascinating strut as if a bold ball of intricately detailed feathers. “What female would not be attracted?” I asked my wife. Carolyn clearly stated, “This female.”

I was watching several Merriam’s turkeys, five toms and even more hens near a parking area in RMNP. As the females moved in a general direction pecking slight grains of food from the ground, the toms weaved, running like Pac-Man never knowing exactly which direction to go.

Lost in their own testosterone, they would fluff up becoming round and twice their size, their chests showing a bold tuft of feathers known as their beard. Standing on the edge of a parking lot, I squatted, setting my camera at the turkey’s eye level, pressing the shutter, the sun reflecting that debatable prism in their feathers.

It happened like it sometimes does with nature photography. Not such an issue with turkey’s, but I was focusing with my vision on the two turkeys through the viewfinder, and lost track of my surroundings. When I lowered my camera, I realized I had become a curiosity to the other toms.

In front of me, now about six feet away were the males I’d been photographing. Beside and behind me, within four feet were the other three toms. I was surrounded by gobblers. I thought this might be the beginning of a Thanksgiving revenge massacre. Which one would get my leg?

But their aggressiveness stopped there. They gobbled a bit as if to warn me to stay put, so I squatted, turning my camera on their “ugly” heads. From there, I took several close-ups for Carolyn to admire. The toms kept fluffing and dancing, and I kept shooting and capturing the details of their bumpy red and blue caruncles, the snood over their beaks, and the wattle hanging from their chins.

As they moved up into the grass following the hens, I walked around to the far side positioning myself fifty feet in front of them. The hens moved steadily in the same direction while the toms continued their losing Pac-Man imitation. Sometimes they moved in pairs, sometimes offering an outstretched neck or a flapping of their wings.

I loved the way they entertained, their bold strut and goofy wandering. The lumpy red and aqua heads moved in jerky motions and the sun reflected the prism of blues, reds, and greens of their puffed up black chests. The brown tail feathers were to be admired with their cream color tips highlighting the full fan of their plumage.

I was excited that I had captured so many wonderful turkey images. They had posed and played, danced and strutted for the camera, and I was grateful. With that enthusiasm, when I arrived home, I announced, “Carolyn, look at these amazing images I captured.” When I showed her a close-up of a dynamic male turkey in his full red and blue caruncles, snood, and wattle, she turned away bluntly saying, “Oh my God. They’re ugly turkeys.”

But I think they are beautiful.

Spring and the Mountain Bluebirds

Thu, 08 May 2025 12:24:13 GMT

Mountain Bluebirds Migrating into RMNP

I’m sure when prominent Estes Park photographer Richard Hahn reads this, he will be proud of me. Such a talented bird photographer, Richard has been a mentor throughout my years in Estes Park and RMNP. His book, Finding Rocky Mountain National Park Birds , has guided me as has Richard when I see him in the field.

I remember one morning a couple of years ago, I saw Richard standing in the middle of a group of aspen trees in the park. Feeling as if I might be intruding, I stood beside my SUV. When Richard saw me, he waved me in, and I joined him among the white barked trees.

Richard pointed out holes in a couple of trees describing the birds making their nests. There was a mountain bluebird and northern flickers. We watched for them to return to the nest hole while a Stellar’s jay flitted from tree branch to tree branch. He explained the best camera settings to capture the birds in flight particularly when they left the hole in the tree. As he explained, Richard was kind, generous, and instructive.

This spring throughout April, I had the chance to capture images of mountain bluebirds migrating into RMNP for the breeding season. Seen in their favorite habitat, they flew along the same road where Richard had stood in the aspen grove.

As Richard had instructed, I set my camera at a low f-stop and fast shutter speed to capture the action. Using the eye-focus of my mirrorless Canon R5 camera and the length of the 100-500 lens fully extended, I would bring the bluebird into a crisp focus.

For a while, the bluebirds simply sat on bushes and branches, the males posing in beautiful full blue with the females in gray highlighted with the same aqua blue wings. I was thrilled to capture the details of their feathers and the brightness of their color.

Then one morning, it snowed. I was on the road with my lens out the SUV window focusing on a male mountain bluebird about forty feet off the road. It perched delicately on a snow covered branch of a winter bush. I steadied the camera, supported the lens, and set a high shutter speed.

Hoping to catch the male bluebird at the moment it took flight, every time the bird moved, I pressed the shutter. I probably took a couple of hundred pictures. I knew most would be deleted, but on images 198, 199, and 200, as my shutter responded in high action like a quiet machine gun, I captured the moment of flight.

So my month of April was highlighted by mountain bluebirds. At times, they sat handsomely on a branch, their wings tight to their bodies bringing out the male’s rich, beautiful blue. The female’s gray chest highlighted the details of each feather while the males might fluff up showing a lighter aqua blue giving them a softer, delicate color.

One morning with the sun forcing through the haze, I focused on capturing the birds in flight, their wings brightened by the light. They would flitter from branch to branch, and I would watch the sun with my camera at the ready. That was when I captured two in potential courtship, their brightly colored wings extended as they faced each other in mid-air.

I took the photos, but they are Richard Hahn’s too. Without his depth of knowledge, camera instruction, and field guidance, I would not have had the wonderful April of mountain bluebird photography I experienced.

Thank you Richard for your kindness, support, and friendship as you helped me continue to grow as a photographer and guided me in the joy of capturing dynamic mountain bluebird images.

The Magnificent Sandhill Crane Migration

Thu, 08 May 2025 12:13:02 GMT

80 percent or 500,000 of all Sandhill Cranes Gather

Growing up in Grand Island, Nebraska, I have two completely unrelated memories of photography and the sandhill crane migration. First is my dad holding a Kodak camera with a flash cub. With each flash, the cube rotated giving the photographer four flash shots. My dad loved modern technology. Second was these big birds circling in the air every March. I didn’t know what they were, but there were a lot of them.

Today, sixty years later, I am excited to have once again visited central Nebraska in March for the sandhill crane migration. For nearly 10 million years, in their movement from the southern United States and central Mexico, the sandhill cranes migrate to their breeding grounds in northern Canada and Alaska.

On the way, approximately 80 percent or an estimated 500,000 of all Sandhill Cranes use a 75-mile stretch of Nebraska's Platte River primarily from Kearney to Grand Island to rest and refuel before continuing their journey. The shallow waters of the Platte River provide a safe nighttime roosting site for the cranes. During the day, they fly to the surrounding farm fields to feast on seeds, grains, and roots left over from the previous fall's harvest.

I remember my first visit, many years ago, to photograph the cranes. I was shocked by the sheer numbers. Driving the backroad between Grand Island and Kearney, scattered fields were spotted with hundreds of gray dots. Sometimes the dots would jump, flapping their wings, or groups would trumpet their announcement before launching into flight.

As the sun sets, in a noisy calling out of their haunting intention, the cranes leave the fields and fill the sky like flying monkeys protecting the Wicked Witch of the West. Thousands circle in the evening haze as they slowly drift downward to the Platte River channel where they will be protected at night in the shallow waters.

In the morning, as the sun becomes a red ball turning the skies orange, another pageant begins. One crane rises from the ankle deep waters, trumpeting their intention, followed by thousands setting flight in unison, filling the sky with a noisy, disjointed, squawking wave of birds.

In the spring, cranes engage in courtship dances, stretching their wings, pumping their heads, bowing and leaping into the air. Watching this mating ritual, the playful flap of their wings and leaps up to ten feet in the air are an impressive display for a photographer to capture. Like the great egrets in mating plume or the reddish egrets dashing, lurching, and zig-zag after prey in the shallow waters along the Gulf of Mexico, the cranes put on a show.

Throughout his life, world renowned wildlife photographer Thomas Mangelsen (who also grew up in Grand Island) has photographed wildlife throughout the world. But each March, he returns to his family cabin still nestled along the Platte River. I heard him tell of story once of meeting Dr. Jane Goodall whose groundbreaking field research revolutionized our understanding of chimpanzees. Goodall had heard of the crane migration and was fascinated. Thomas invited Dr. Goodall to visit his cabin and see the crane spring pageant. Thrilled with the invitation, she asked if she could bring a friend.

I can imagine Thomas, Jane, and her friend, acoustic rock musician Dave Matthews sitting on the back porch of Thomas’ family cabin capturing images as the cranes lifted off at sunrise and returned at sunset. Thomas would be behind his lens, Dr. Goodal would be studying the unique beauty of the event, and all the while, Dave Matthews would be providing the sound track as he picked away on his acoustic guitar. (Thomas, with a simple invitation, I’d be glad to join you.)

This March, I was able to capture a variety of images from the sunrise emersion off the Platte River channels, to the flight into the fields speckled with remains of corn, and of the sandhill cranes dancing to draw their mate toward them. As they are each year, the cranes were a beautiful spectacle of nature’s magnificence.

A Modern Mountain Man

Fri, 07 Mar 2025 01:32:49 GMT

The Heartiness of Men Exploring Estes Park

There are many mountain lovers with amazing skills far beyond my capabilities. I was out earlier in February to see several people camping when the temperature that day ranged from below zero to a high of eight degrees. No thank you. Even the warmest sleeping bag wouldn’t convince me to be an Arctic camper.

I think back into history, and I wonder about the heartiness of men exploring Estes Park. Think about John Wesley Powell and his team of seven on the first recorded summit of Longs Peak in 1868. No technical equipment, no defined route, and no awareness of the potential dangers over the next false summit. These were true adventurers bushwacking up a 14,000 foot mountain.

There was a time in my younger life when such adventures drew me in, but now…let’s just say the legs aren’t as youthful as they once were, the balance not quite as steady. But there’s still one winter adventure that gives me a thrill.

When the fresh snow of an early winter morning leaves the park roads covered with six to eight inches, I am excited. I want to be the first vehicle in the park, the daring driver who breaks through the unplowed snow with his powerful vehicle.

Heading out, I load up all of my survival supplies…a Diet Coke in a Yeti Rambler cooled by ice from my refrigerator’s ice dispenser, and I stop at the Donut Haus for the nourishment of a raspberry glazed twist donut.

I enjoy modern day warmth. I’m wearing Timberland hiking boots from REI, a fleece Columbia pullover from Scheels, and a thick, wonderful stocking hat given to me by my Estes Park New friends. My iPhone is bluetooth connected to my Ford Explorer GPS, and I’m listening to Phlash Phelps on Sirius satellite radio playing my favorite 1960s songs. As I drive, I sing along with the Grass Roots, Buckinghams, and the Hollies before Graham Nash left to form a little harmonizing group called Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

Yes, like Enos Mills before me, I’m ready for a daring outdoor winter adventure, but I’m in my twenty-first century four-wheel drive Explorer with heated seats and steering wheel. As I approach the park entrance, my lifetime senior pass in hand, I watch the road. My great adventuring spirit hopes there are no vehicle tracks before me. Like Joel Estes, Isabella Bird, and Abner Sprague navigating on horseback into uncharted territory, I want to be the first to break through the snow. Daringly, I push forward in my Ford Explorer with a standard 2.3L EcoBoost I4 producing 300 horsepower and 310 pound-feet of torque. 300 horsepower is better than one horse and a couple of pack mules.

It is a virgin snow with no tracks before me.

It is a virgin snow with no tracks before me. At Horseshoe Park, there is a group of nice bull elk, their antlers still fully intact despite an active rut. I step from the Explorer, standing in the eight inches of snow with my mirrorless, computerized Canon camera photographing the beautiful animals. No one else is around with only the two narrow paths of my Bridgestone tires disrupting the perfectly smooth layer of white.

At Deer Junction, I head back down Highway 36 hoping to capture mule deer bucks. They are just beginning to shed their antlers, and I hope to photograph some whose racks remain in place. On the hillside, there is a group of does, their noses buried in the snow searching for food. Then, just past them, two bold and beautiful bucks stand side-by-side.

There was no pullout and no other cars. What could go wrong if I stopped on the road to capture an image. Well…there are those things called snow plows that come down the mountain at a fairly good pace. What could go wrong? Sitting in my white Explorer, I could be plowed and pushed down the mountain rolling uncontrolled like a highly technical snowball with 300 horsepower.

As I continue on, I stop at the large pullout that overlooks Longs Peak and the snow covered continental divide. It happens to me now and then as it must have happened to early explorers. I step outside of my vehicle to look at the incredible view. As I stand in the snow, a rush of awe sends a tingle through my body. I am overwhelmed at the beauty before me, and thankful that my life is now lived surrounded by magnificent mountains.

Slipping back into the driver’s seat, I glance in the rearview mirror. No snow plow yet, but I’ve got to get moving down the mountain to stay on an undisturbed, snow-covered road. As I drive, the snow blasts from under the wheels, and I am the adventurer seeking winter images.

I laugh thinking of those who came one-hundred and fifty years before. Would they have envied my transportation and recognized the weaknesses of a man softened by modern conveniences, clothing, and technology. Or would they acknowledge my love for RMNP as they loved the area long before me.

Would they have appreciated that I am a mountain man mastering unplowed roads while on a great winter adventure.

The Amazing Elk Migration

Sun, 09 Feb 2025 14:47:51 GMT

They were everywhere with more coming. Elk!

It was Christmas 2017, our first to be celebrated in Estes Park. As a family, we sat down below the antler chandelier around the rosewood table for a traditional holiday dinner with all the fixings including my favorite, sweet potato pie. Our family gathered with smiles of Christmas joy, when we looked out the window.

They were everywhere with more coming. Elk! From our dining room window, we could see them moving across Moraine Avenue, blocking the road, and wandering into our yard. It seemed like a hundred of them - maybe more.

Ignoring our warm, wonderful holiday meal, we rushed to the raised deck to watch the elk walking around and through the yard. Looking straight down, a cow stood staring up at us as curious as we were about her. It was a Christmas parade. Young elk, mature cows, and spike bulls were filling our yard with their presence and elk duds. I must have been a very good boy to get such a Christmas surprise.

That day, the food tasted delightful. There were laughs and giggles of a family not used to such surprise visitors as we retold our experience of the elk. It verified that our decision to buy a house in Estes Park was a perfect one. I was home.

Much to our delight, this was not the last time to experience the elk migration. A year later, around the first of November, my wife, Carolyn, and I were having dinner at Bird and Jim’s. Stepping out onto the deck, our jaws hung open as a group of maybe one hundred and fifty elk moved toward town from RMNP. As we watched in delight, another herd moved through the Country Market parking lot. Tourists pointed in amazement while we gathered our wits pretending to act like locals, explaining the migration. Soon, the two groups came together as we watched maybe 250-300 elk bunched together in the field.

The Migration Moved Along the Big Thompson River

Several years during the first week of November, the migration moved along Big Thompson River through Park River West, past Coffee on the Rocks, and into downtown Estes Park. We would pull into our development only to find elk everywhere blocking the road, eating branches from the trees, and trimming the dry grass. They surrounded my car, noses near the window and big bodies blocking my movement. They were beautifully intimidating and acted like they owned the road, which they did. As I asked myself how they had come to be in town, they were probably asking themselves, why my house was on their field.

This year, returning home by way of Estes Park Medical Center, standing packed together on an empty lot were a hundred or more. While they moved in a slight wave, they went nowhere except in a circle. As I photographed them, my zoom lens focused on a big bull in the middle. Standing tall among many, many cows, it looked like he was searching for one. Kind of a “Where is my girlfriend?” moment.

A few days later on a RMNPhotographer Tour returning from RMNP, we’d only seen a couple of elk in the distance. Our guests had hoped to see more, so I drove into town where I guessed I could find a couple or a hundred. Circling the round-about, I saw them coming across Highway 34 from the Stanley Hotel. I pointed and my guest squealed with excitement. The road was blocked, thick with elk as a large, dominant bull pushing from the back of the herd.

On the evening I wrote this, I had just returned from Loveland where before I reached the canyon along the river, among the trees there were an estimated two hundred. Cars lined the road watching their slow movements. It was a history lesson of what our land must have been like before Joel Estes settled in the valley.

This is our Estes Park. This is the home we share with deer, elk, moose, and other powerful animals and pesky varmint. Many mornings, I’m out photographing them, searching Rocky Mountain National Park for incredible animals and unique, beautiful images. And when I don’t see any in the park…

It’s not unusual to get a text from Carolyn. Last week, as I drove down Deer Mountain, my phone chimed. Pulling over, I looked at the text. “If you’re not seeing anything in the park, forty elk just walked through our yard and headed down to the river.”

I drove home to get some wonderful images of migrating elk.

The Legacy of the Chocolate Ram

Thu, 02 Jan 2025 15:16:58 GMT

The Chocolate Brown of His Wool.

What I first noticed was the contrast between the curl in his sun bleached ram horns against the chocolate brown of his wool. Like a bright light against a dark body, the roundness of his horns glowed in the morning sun. I had not seen a bighorn with a body this dark, dark brown like the creamy look of rich, deep, chocolate.

He was a beautiful animal, resting on a hillside watching me as I watched him through the viewfinder of my Canon camera. Then he shifted, and I could see the length of his spine running from his neck to his hips. Protruding, the bones stuck out against his hide, sunken on each side of the spine. Aged or unhealthy thin, maybe both, I suddenly felt a wave of sadness rush through me.

When he stood to walk, his hind quarters were just as thin, his stomach like an old man’s, shrivelled and weak. He was a ram who had once likely dominated during the rut, but today lived a solitary life, content and alone sitting majestically on his hillside.

I envisioned what his life must have been. Had he been a young ram, a lamb during the floods of 2013? Had his mother led him up onto the rocky cliffs to safety away from the rushing waters that did so much damage? Had he survived in the aftermath of the torrential rains that washed away the rocks he’d lived upon?

Had he been the playful young ram, the one bouncing from rock to rock chasing other lambs in the quest to gain strength earned by the energy of his youth? Had the summer of greens growing high up been his source of strength as his shoulders had tightened, his legs become more powerful, and his curl slowly begun to show itself?

By the fall had he begun to become the Simba of the bighorn herd, still youthful but with amazing promise? When he stood upon the rocks, had his chest pressed outward with the power of a child becoming a man? Did his chocolate coat make him look more bold, more capable, and did the young ewes look up to him?

Boldly Migrated Down into Big Thompson Canyon

Each June as he grew, did he lead the herd up into the high country to the cooler weather and green summer grass of the tundra? Was he the one the rest of the herd looked to for guidance? As I drove up Old Fall River Road in July, had I seen him across the valley on the cliffs? Was he one of the bighorns I constantly searched for hoping to see him jumping agilely from rock to rock on the precarious mountainside?

In early September had he moved down to Horseshoe Park feeding on the minerals in the mud around Sheep Lakes? I wondered if I had watched him when the moose arrived. Was he one that the moose tried to chase away, and did he stand his ground, unintimidated, or was he the leader who guided the ewes running from the aggressive moose back across the road and up onto Sheep Mountain where they found safety?

Maybe he had boldly migrated down into Big Thompson Canyon where he found himself to be a favorite during the rut. There he must have mated with the healthy ewes, building his own herd and teaching the young rams to live on the canyon cliffs as he had been taught.

Had he survived the Cameraon Peak Fire in 2021 and the Alexander Mountain Fire of 2024? Was he the older but wiser bighorn who pushed the herd away from danger crossing the highway and leaping into the Big Thompson River to guide others south away from the flames? Had he been that ram, still strong but wise as he aged?

And now, as the winter approached, I saw his physical dominance was fading. Still handsome, the power of his chocolate wool coat and curl of his battered horns showed they had served him well in the fall of each year. But he had begun to age. Slowing, he now sat quietly on the hillside where I watched him from behind my camera.

He was so thin. Saddened, I knew this was likely his last winter. He had been a leader, father, and champion to so many. He had stood out with his deep, rich color, and he had been powerful.

But now, his eyes were weary, his legs showed a bit of a wobble, but his face was still wise, still confident. I felt honored to watch him, to photograph him knowing he was giving me that chance to see a bold male of history and past capabilities quietly living out his life in solitude, alone on the side of a mountain.

A Photographer's Journey

Thu, 05 Dec 2024 17:55:54 GMT

As I Look Back on my Photography Journey

As I look back on the history of my photography journey, I remember my trips to Estes Park starting in 1970. I was a tourist then, a kid who was captivated by the beauty and adventure of this magical place. The moment I left, I couldn’t wait to return.

Each trip to Estes Park, I’d stay in a little cabin along Fall River. On one trip I bought a camera, saw two elk on Old Fall River Road, captured a fun picture, and was hooked. I became a wildlife photography hobbyist which quickly grew into a passion. Every vacation morning I would rise with the sun and go into the park searching for wildlife. On winter visits, I loved being the first one to break through the snow on the roads as if I were some great explorer. Isabella Bird and Mountain Jim would have been proud.

In the afternoon, I would do what tourists do. Venturing from t-shirt shop to ice cream parlor, I would eventually have lunch at Ed’s or spend the evening in Lonigan’s as Dick Orleans entertained the crowd with his incredible acoustic music.

Years later as I entered Ed’s or Lonigans, near the entrance on a newspaper rack would be the Estes Park News. There was always a wildlife image on the cover; a dynamic eagle taken by local Richard Hahn, a bobcat captured through the lens of Paul Marcotte, or a gathering of proud bull elk taken on a snowy morning by Dawn Wilson. I’d look at the cover and dream that one day I might capture an image worthy of the Estes Park News.

Then over a snowy Christmas vacation in 2019, I found several mule deer bedded down along Bear Lake Road. They were among the dried remains of summer’s vegetation covered with snow. Hidden in the natural camouflage, there was one buck, his eyes locked on me, antlers rising up obscured on the hillside.

As I viewed the animal through the camera’s lens, I thought the picture might just be Estes Park News worthy. So before returning home to the rolling croplands of Iowa and my daily professional life, I sent an email with the image attached to a couple of people I’d never met, Kris and Gary Hazelton at Estes Park News.

Three weeks later, working diligently behind the oak desk in my office, I wished I was still in hiking boots. Instead, I was intent on my daily duties in the middle of flatland America. I was wearing a white dress shirt and navy and light blue striped tie, a suit jacket draped over the back of my executive chair. Scanning my emails with meticulous professionalism, one jumped out. My breath caught. It was from Estes Park News.

Containing my anticipation, I clicked on the message, and an attachment opened before me. I stared in disbelief. It was my image of the camouflaged mule deer buck embedded on the cover of Estes Park News (January 24, 2020).

I gasp in the excitement of the moment. Suddenly, fifty years after my first visit to Estes Park, I was no longer a tourist. I was no longer just a tie wearing Iowa professional dreaming of the Colorado mountains. On that day, at that moment, I had become a wildlife photographer in Estes Park, CO. Like Richard, Paul, Dawn, and many others, I was someone who had captured a unique wildlife image that now graced the cover of the local paper - Estes Park News. My direction in life had changed.

Five Years and Five Mule Deer Images Later

Now in 2024, five years and five mule deer images on the cover of Estes Park News later, I was on one of my daily trips into RMNP. I was sitting in the Hollowell Park turn-a-round, and two days of thick snow had covered the meadow. As I scanned the surroundings, I sensed a slight movement. Then I saw him. A hundred yards away a handsome mule deer buck was moving through the trees, snow kicking up from his feet with each step.

Slipping silently from my car, I adjusted my camera settings. Amazingly, the buck was followed by another nearly as big. Neither turned away but kept marching forward through the fresh snow. Looking through my viewfinder, I could see the grooves in the first deer's antlers, the snow covering his forehead.

As the deer came closer, I continued to shoot capturing image upon image of the wintery setting. Focusing for the perfect shot, I thought to myself, “This could be an Estes Park News cover.”

In this experience, five years after my initial cover, I now live my best life in Estes Park. The tie is long gone, and I am a wildlife photographer and owner of RMNPhotographer Private Guided Tours. In the magic of time and passion, I have transitioned from tourist to local, from hobbyist to professional. I have dreamed of living this life since my first venture into RMNP in 1970, and now the dream is alive.

As I captured several images of the proud mule deer buck, I checked the photos on my camera screen. Smiling, I thought, Kris and Gary will love this one…

And they did, putting that image on the November 8, 2024 cover of Estes Park News.

Silhouette Images

Fri, 01 Nov 2024 01:09:54 GMT

Silhouette Image-A Rookie’s Lucky Snapshot

See the image in the upper left hand corner of this page, the silhouette image of the bull elk? It’s one of my favorite pictures, one taken years ago that I use today as a logo for RMNPhotographer. Pretty cool, isn’t it! Well…it was a mistake. It was taken without clear knowledge of lighting or camera settings. It was a rookie photographer’s lucky shot.

Shot with an ISO of 500, f-stop at f10, and shutter speed at 1/800, there were so many things wrong with those settings to capture an elk before sunrise. Back then I likely didn’t even look at the settings. I probably saw the elk, got excited, and did a point and shoot.

Still, it is one of my favorite pictures taken. My first silhouette image - a rookie’s lucky snapshot.

That day, I was standing at Milner Pass having taken a picture of something or other, when I saw the bull elk on a slight rise next to Trail Ridge Road. I lifted my camera and shot several images. Well…back then they were probably pictures. I didn’t get good enough to label them images until several years and a couple of camera upgrades later.

When I got home, and put the picture on my computer, I gagged, “What the heck were you doing? It’s all black.” Then as I looked more, absorbing the image in my mind, my disappointment began to shift. My impression of the picture turned to, “Oooohhhh! There’s something I really like about that!”

I liked the position of the elk’s head, the antlers balanced against the rising treeline. But my favorite part was the detail of the weed sitting framed by the elk’s back legs. A pretty cool silhouette. I grinned at my ineptness.

Since that time and that mistake, I have looked to purposefully take just such images…with the right camera settings. And I’ve gotten a few. Each time, as I look at the silhouette and see the image I hope to capture, I always think, “Will it be like the elk at Milner Pass?” Then I smile at the memory of my wonderfully inept elk silhouette.

A Lone Bull Elk Backlit

Years after that first silhouette during the fall rut of 2022, I was with a group of photographers along the road in Moraine Park. The sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains to the east, and the elk were nearby and everywhere as the cameras were clicking. That’s when I looked up and saw a lone bull elk backlit and still shaded on the hillside. He was tall and beautiful with slight clouds puffing up behind him. Looking through my viewfinder, I set the ISO high, f-stop low, and speed fast, helping balance the dark image of the elk as I took the silhouette.

That same fall, I was at Sprague Lake looking into the sun as I watched a cow elk with her four month old calf feeding in the water. In that tender moment, I set my camera to capture the silhouette. As I did, the calf lowered her head to drink. That is when a spot of sun hit the water reflecting a star burst of light under the calf’s neck. That along with the sparkles and lines of light absorbed in the water made it a special image.

In August 2023, I was taking several images at Sprague Lake. Sunrise was just about upon us, there were geese in the water and an osprey circled above. As it was all happening, a young bull moose wandered into the lake, and I moved along the trail from one side of the lake to the other. There, as he lifted his head, water rained down from his muzzle like twinkling icicle lights. The reflecting light complimented the silhouette.

This past August, I stood on the boardwalk at Sprague Lake waiting for the sunrise to brighten the eastern sky. As I did, the sun began to create patterns of light surrounded by blue. Smiling, I adjusted the camera setting so the mountains and trees were black, the sky bursting with light and blue while reflecting colors in the water. A beautiful Sprague Lake sunrise was captured.

Some of my favorite images have come from that rookie mistake creating an elk silhouette. The silhouette was profound with the blues, black, and light burst from the pages as an image accidentally captured.

Photography is all about light, and light can uniquely highlight the wonders of nature. As a rookie photographer, I made a lighting mistake motivated by a total lack of camera knowledge - and it was a beautiful picture. That beautiful mistake has been highlighted in purposeful silhouette images captured as my ineptness has faded with improved photography skills.

Trick or Treat Elk

Fri, 25 Oct 2024 13:09:08 GMT

Then We Heard a Thump

Our first year living in Estes Park, we made an October mistake. Coming from suburban Iowa, it was expected that we would have a fall, Halloween pumpkin on our front porch. Everybody, I mean everybody in Iowa has an orange fruit on their front porch in October. Something to celebrate the season like a carved up face of fright, a colorful, jovial statement of a pagan religious celebration turned sugar energizing kid fest. Why would Estes Park be any different?

Remember as a kid, the excitement of carving a pumpkin? Your mom would cut around the stem to create a hole in the top. Then you would reach in and pull out the slimy clob of stringy pumpkin filling intertwining the seeds. Scraping it clean, you couldn’t wait to begin to carve the pumpkin.

Would it be a happy Halloween pumpkin like the kids running from front door to front door in anticipation of sugar or would it be a scary pumpkin honoring its pagan history. A jack-o-lantern with one tooth or two?

That was the expectation of a suburban Iowa Halloween. So during our first October living in Estes Park, we had a pumpkin on our front step. It was picked for its perfect roundness, smooth orange color, and healthy stem to carry it. With it, we’d met our October festive decorating obligation.

On a late October evening, we sat in our living room watching a new episode of Law and Order: SVU. Olivia was intently determined to right the wrong as she pursued the quilty. Our dogs were sleeping comfortably on the couch, and all was quiet except for the voice of righteousness coming from the TV.

Then we heard a thump. The dog’s heads shot up, and my wife, Carolyn, looked at me. My brow frowned. Thump. I frowned again and paused the sound coming from the TV. Thump. Someone was on our front porch.

Cautiously, I moved from the couch and grabbed the handle of the front door. Slowly, I turned it, pulling the door open. It was late with the sun fading in the season of pagans. Would there be a tiny super hero at my door? Spiderman or Wonder Woman? Maybe a wicked witch with a pointy hat, the white sheet of a spooky ghost, or a beautiful princess in glass slippers?

The door opened. He was massive, his chest bold, eyes intent, and antlers threatening. The incredible bull elk stood a few feet from me looking up from the bottom step. Shocked, I jumped back, closing the door.

“Who is it?” Carolyn asked. My eyes were wide as I answered, “There’s a Kahuna sized bull elk on our front step.”

We live near the Big Thompson River, a river the elk follow from Moraine Park into Estes Park at the end of the rut. It’s not unusual for us to see elk, but this guy looked like he was ready to climb the steps to join us for a legal rerun.

“He’s right there,” I told her. “Right outside our front door.”

I went and grabbed my cell phone, and both dogs jumped to the back of the couch looking out the window. Back at the front door, I reached my phone outside and peeked through the opening.

There he was, the impressive bull elk with his antlers held high as he watched me capture his picture. Then I saw it. By his leg laid the remains of a half eaten bright orange pumpkin. A sweet, fruity treat for this oversized trick-or-treater. He dropped his head, took a big bite from the luscious treat and chewed happily.

The next day, as I told the story to neighbors, friends, and people about town, they all looked at me like I was crazy. Then one finally said, “With all of the wildlife in town, you don’t put pumpkins out.” Adding, “Pumpkins for elk are like honey to bears.”

While we didn’t have elk in suburban Iowa, we certainly do in Estes Park. The message was clear. My mistake was evident. In Estes Park, you don’t decorate your front porch with brightly colored edibles unless you are expecting massive, wild, six tine trick or treaters. If you are, and you leave a pumpkin on the front step, the trickster might not be a treat.

A Friendly Fox

Fri, 18 Oct 2024 12:16:03 GMT

Both of Our Cameras Were Active.

I ran into Sharon on the side of the road near that opening between the Deer Mountain Junction and the Beaver Ponds. It’s a place I call “Moose Meadow.” That late spring day, there were three elk with small velvet antlers grazing in the meadow, and both of our cameras were active.

I’d met Sharon like this briefly on other occasions. Her parents had long owned a cabin in Estes Park, and she had been coming here since she was a child. As we stood talking, she told me of a time when the roads weren’t so crowded, the animals abundant, and you could bushwack across the rocks to walk the edge of the continental divide. Those were her childhood memories.

Since that time, her career had taken her to New York City, and her marriage to California and Hawaii. She’d traveled to Europe and the world to both ancient and tropical lands. Her life success had offered her many options, but her childhood memories, and love for the mountains always brought her back to Estes Park.

Now, she was learning photography. Sharon’s cameras traveled with her, and she had even ventured into underwater photography. There she had captured the vibrant saltwater colors of tropical fish. But now she was in Estes Park for the summer, and asked if she could book a couple of RMNPhotographer Private Photography Tours .

A few days later, we were off together searching for wildlife to photograph. It was a wonderful morning, with animals greeting us at many stops. In Endo Valley, there was a bull moose feeding on the leaves by munching down on the branch, pulling it through his mouth, and shedding the stem of its greens.

At Sheep Lakes, we watched a young bull until he ran from the lake toward where we stood on the curve. Stopping, he posed as if to remind us it was his land. We captured a picture of him behind a sign that read, “Meadow Closed: Wildlife Protection and Viewing Area.”

Our Cameras had not Been Up Long

Appropriately, at Deer Mountain, a mule deer doe and twin fawns stood frozen for just a moment. Our cameras had not been up long before she scampered away and into the forest where her babies would be protected.

Driving into the Hidden Valley parking area, a bull elk stood boldly on top of a hill. With the growth of his antlers so early in the season, you could tell by the rut he would be an active bull with strong, dominant antlers pointed at their tips.

Sharon and I parked in a pullout and walked the edge of Trail Ridge Road along the willows at the Beaver Ponds. As we stood talking, watching, we did not see any animals. After a few minutes, we decided to move on.

Then, I saw him. A beautiful, yellowish red fox emerging from the brush. Pointing at the canine not twenty feet away, I was sure he would see us and scamper back into the brush. Instead, he sniffed and hunted, searching for food in the ground, a rodent of any type.

Our cameras up, both Sharon and I were shooting image after image. To my shock, the furry fox stayed right in front of us. He continued to hunt, captured a vole, ate it down, then hunted some more. For ten minutes, we were able to capture images. To Sharon, I suggested camera settings, f-stop speed and ISO. Shooting from above, we adjusted our angle working for a better composition.

In RMNP, shooting deer, elk and moose is not a rarity. Chances to capture a fox, especially in more than a fleeting moment, are unique. This time with this fox so closely to us was a gift. Then, as if knowing this, the fox sat, looked in our direction, and yawned having become a bit bored. When we had several images, he stood and ran up the hill, crossing the road, and disappeared into the forest.

I am so lucky on RMNPhotographer Tours to be able to watch, photograph, and appreciate these magnificent animals sharing moments in their world. For Sharon, it was not New York City. It was not deep in a tropical ocean or some ancient European location. For Sharon, it was sharing a moment with a wild fox living playfully in the mountains she called home.

On this day, this beautiful, full and fluffy red fox had given Sharon and I a few special moments of photography, and he had reminded Sharon why she always returned.

Wild Horses of North America

Fri, 11 Oct 2024 01:51:51 GMT

Spanish Conquistadors Reintroduced Horses

to North America

I first photographed wild horses on Pryor Mountain in Wyoming. The white palomino wild stallion Cloud, born in 1995, brought significant interest to the historic horses. Cloud’s PBS’ Nature series of three documentaries was the only continuous documentation of a wild animal from birth in the Northern Hemisphere.

I remember first arriving on the mountain top to see bands of wild horses running free. I was awestruck by their unrestrained power. They were majestic in their presence and exuded a sense of freedom. Since that moment, I have been intrigued by America’s wild horses.

While there were horses in North America millions of years ago, by 10,000 years ago they were locally extinct. In the 1500’s, Spanish conquistadors reintroduced horses with the same genetic lineage as the original North American horse. When some of those horses escaped, they were captured by Native Americans and spread across the continent.

As these feral horses escaped to run wild, in the 1900s there were two million mustangs running free. By 1971, when Congress gave them federal protection, there were only 17,000 wild feral horses still roaming. They lived year-round in small bands of three to 10 individuals including a dominant stallion, subordinate adult males and females, and offspring. Feral wild horse "herds" are made up of several separate, small "bands" sharing a territory.

In 2015, I was able to photo wild Colonial Spanish Mustangs on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Brought by Spanish explorers in 1520, they now roam the beach of Corolla and along the Outer Banks.

It is where I learned a valuable wildlife photography lesson. While photographing a band of eight, they were backlit along the ocean. I wanted to get on the ocean side for better lighting, yet knew on the open beach there would be no protection between me and the wild horses. Still, my inexperience and enthusiasm got the best of my good sense.

I left the jeep and those around me, walking down the beach away from the massive animals allowing myself space. As I photographed, my eyes focused in the viewfinder, the stallion moved up the beach. When I lowered my camera, I realized I was between the mustang and his band including the wild mares.

That is when, from way up on the sand dunes, a second stallion came galloping toward the stallion. It was only minutes before the two mustangs were face to face, then rising up on their hind quarters, battling hoof to hoof, biting each other as they fought for the mares.

I knew I had made a horrible mistake, and began walking back toward the Jeep and groups of people. Halfway to them, I turned photographing the stallions in battle. In that instant, they both turned running and in five strides, they were on me. As I dove out of the way, I hoped that a hoof would not crush my ankle. Landing in the sand, I could feel the vibration of the thundering hooves as they stormed past my ankles.

Someone at the Jeep video taped the entire incident, and within days the video exceeded a million views online. I later saw the video dubbed by a knowledgeable horse person describing the horse’s behavior. He kept describing me as “the stupid human.” Sadly, he was correct in his assessment.

Historical Images of Feral Wild Horses

In the past three years, I have photographed wild horses at Sand Wash Basin in western Colorado. Beautiful, amazing horses, the herd roams free on 158,000 acres managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). Genetic analysis indicates the highest similarity of horses derived from Spanish breeds.

A week ago, I visited the McCullough Wild Horse Herd on BLM land near Cody, WY. Driving the roads, searching for the horses, I had no luck. Then as I was leaving, off in the distance I saw a vehicle a mile down a two wheel path. Putting my zoom lens out, I saw a man with a tripod. My senses told me there must be horses nearby.

Loosening my shock absorbers as I drove the path, I neared the man with the tripod and saw a small watering hole surrounded by a herd of forty-five wild horses. From a rise above the horses, I photographed as they interacted. Drinking the water, rolling in the dust, cooling themselves in the water, lying in the mud, and play-fighting on their hind legs while wrapping their hooves over each other’s shoulders.

For forty-five minutes, I captured what felt like historical images of feral wild horses, descendents of Spanish Mustangs. Not only were they awe inspiring, but it seemed I had stepped back in time to when life was simpler. I flashed back to my boyhood watching Bananza, and I thought I saw Little Joe’s black and white pinto stallion prancing among the mares.

Sources: American Wild Horse Conservation, Pryor Mountain Wild Mustang Center, Visit North Carolina, Wild Horses of Sand Wash Basin, and The Mustangs at McCullough Peaks–History and Legend

Droptine - An Amazing Bull Elk

Thu, 03 Oct 2024 13:20:00 GMT

Droptine is Famous for His Distinctive Drop Tine

There have been several bull elk elevated to name status in RMNP. Many have dominated the rut in Moraine Park during the fall season. Years ago, Sampson was famous for his visits to the YMCA of the Rockies. Kahuna was the King of Moraine. Altas is dynamic in his bugle and recognizable “split 5” antlers. And Droptine is famous for his distinctive, yes, drop tine. It's that curved tine on his left antler that drops down instead of up.

This unique feature has been evident each year as Droptine’s antlers have regrown and grown bigger each year. The close replication from year to year indicates a genetic component impacting the length and shape of the antlers. It is a feature that has allowed identification of the elk from year to year.

Droptine’s unique antler feature is so distinctive, he has actually earned two names. While predominantly he is Droptine, it is not unusual to hear him called Kickstand. Somewhere along the way a photographer must have looked at the antler, flashed back to their younger years, and thought of their childhood transportation. Both names fit quite well.

Over the past couple of years, I have taken literally thousands of images of Droptine. I find him both dynamic and accommodating. Oftentimes, he has worked his significant harem near the road. He is a diligent and determined bull elk, moving around the cows of his harem, circling to bring them back together, and bugling in a powerful announcement of his intentions.

At times, Droptine will get agitated, his hormones raging. He will scrape his antlers deep into the grass rubbing against the ground. Activating his glands to secrete his scent, he marks his territory letting others know his dominance. Then he will lift his head, dry grass caught in his antlers like a crown on a king, and he will move about as if blessed with royal power.

Droptine tended to hang near the drive in Moraine Park. While it is great for photographers, it is also precarious. I remember one particular morning, he kept working his cows back and forth. He would push them closer to the throng of wildlife photographers standing on the road..

Periodically, photographers caught up in the moment of capturing amazing elk images did not realize the growing uncertainty of their situation. Capturing images of Droptine, they would lower their camera from focusing on the dynamic bull elk. That is when they would realize the cow elk were edging toward the safety zone. At that point, like the elk being herded, the photographers would move in a wave away from the elk giving them a respectful and safe space.

The Battle Was Not Long

One morning, as Droptine worked, another bull elk snuck in from the opposite side of the meadow. You could almost hear the exasperation in his snort as Droptine began his trot toward the intruder, head down, antlers back. For a moment they faced off. Antler to antler, they interlocked, each pushing, each determined. The battle was not long as it was evident in size and power that Droptine was the dominant elk.

Soon, the challenger surrendered, deciding on his own self preservation. Droptine watched as the defeated elk turned toward the meadow. Successful, Droptine turned his head slight, lifting his nose to a curl. The sound began low before quickly erupting into a powerful, high pitched scream echo across the meadow. Then the bugle calmed into a vocalized glunking of low tones one after the other.

When Droptine stopped, he scanned his harem, raising his head in triumph. His antlers reached beyond the middle of his back showing the impressive twist of his back tines and the kickstand. Beautiful antlers, symmetrical and perfectly mirror with the exception of one dangling tine hanging like the twist of hair on Elvis’ forehead.

Then he was off again, corralling the females. Sometimes patient, at times prancing along, and often moving fast as he pushed the females back together. He was working constantly, sweat dripping from his body, silva from his mouth, his throat bobbing as he panted.

That is when he would find a hint of shade. He had fought off the competition, chased away the lesser bulls. Droptine had maintained his harem, and they too were tired from a morning of moving as they fed. He had survived the challenges of the morning, and now was the time to rest, waiting for his strength to return, for breeding to happen, and to confront new challenges.

With that, my camera would lower to my side. I would stand for a moment appreciating Droptine’s power and determination. He would rest for round two, inevitable as the evening approached. It was then, after a nap of my own, I would return with my camera to honor him with images captured.

Fall in RMNP

Fri, 27 Sep 2024 12:45:45 GMT

The Aspen Transitioning to Yellow, Orange, and Red

As Ansel Adams traveled the country on a project to celebrate the national parks, he often took pictures in color as well as black and white. “Long before his death in 1984 at age 82, he foresaw that this "beguiling medium" might one day replace his cherished black and white.” (Smithsonian Magazine, November 2009)

In fall, the colors of Rocky Mountain National Park, the aspen transitioning to yellow, orange, and red are highlighted by the bright greens of the pine. The last week of September is typically when the colors explode. Like the bugle of the elk, it is a beautiful awakening to the coming cooler season.

On fall days, when I can break away from the lure of the dynamic bull elk, I find my camera’s ISO turned lower, the f-stop expanding the depth of field, and the shutter speed slowed to capture the colors in transition.

Throughout RMNP, there are spots that I seek. Near Grand Lake, the altitude just a little higher, the leaves seem to change a bit sooner. There are bands of yellow along Kawuneeche Valley, and burnt orange leaves along the road to the Adams Falls Trailhead.

Endo Valley, often home of moose to photograph, becomes a tunnel of yellow towering over the narrow road. There, you can stand at the base of the aspen, your chest against the white, and point your camera straight up. Doing so captures the height of the aspen, its yellow leaves against the mountain blue sky with the star burst of sunlight breaking through.

The hillside at Hidden Valley is incredible. Approaching from the Beaver Ponds, it rises up like a painting of glowing yellow with highlights of orange speckled among the green of the mountainside. That hillside is also special in the spring when the fresh green leaves newly growing are a light bright color as the sun strikes the mountain.

Just before Sprague Lake, as you approach on the road, the trees closest to you are shades of red. Inevitably, there will be several people standing before the reds, a camera or two on tripods and several with cellphones unable to resist the beauty. In a moment of awe, they snap picture upon picture.

Walking around Sprague Lake, I appreciate capturing the reflections of Hallett’s Peak and the continental divide, a dual image in the water and sky. The yellows of fall highlight the distant mountainside in the calm lake waters. Occasionally, an elk or moose will wade into the shallow lake bringing life to the image.

My Favorite Moments Every Fall

My wife, Carolyn, has a favorite image, one captured by another Estes Park photographer. I’ve tried to capture it, but the fall colors can be fickled as some years the reds fade quickly in the dry climate. It’s a grove of aspen between Bierstadt Lake and Bear Lake where the dark, speckled boulders dominate the foreground. Behind is the typical yellow, and, on good years, one tree fills the foreground with bright red leaves quaking in the slight breeze. Simple and colorful, the image evokes a feeling of calm.

Bear Lake, of course, offers much color like the band of yellow to the north of towering Hallett’s Peak. Then there is the boulder field to climb on the northside up the lake. Reaching heights far above the lake, the aspens are both red and yellow. The colors frame the image of Longs Peak in the distance and Bear Lake below. The climb is challenging, precarious, and as I’ve reached 70 years old, my dear wife has forbidden me from taking that climb again. (We’ll see…)

But the best of Bear Lake colors are as you step up to the lake’s edge and look to the right. There covering the hillside are spectacular shades of aspen. On a calm day, the reds and yellows dominate the reflection in the lake giving an image Monet would appreciate.

Yet, my favorite image, one I took during the spectacular fall of 2021, was inspired by the view from Storm Pass Trailhead. As I observed the miles of hillside, I wondered what it might look like halfway up the trail to Bierstadt Lake. The trek was a climb but the reward was incredible. A wall of yellow filled the picture to the backdrop of Hallett’s Peak. It was there I captured my favorite and most inspiring fall image in RMNP.

But my favorite moments every fall are sitting at a picnic table in RMNP. Surrounded by colors, the aspens are quaking as Carolyn and I play with our dogs Maggie, and, of course, Aspen. Two hamburgers are on the fire ring grate and baked beans are bubbling in a pot. As we talk and laugh, the cool breeze calms the day, and I know Carolyn is looking forward to ‘smores for desert.

Alpenglow and A Dream Lake Reflection

Fri, 20 Sep 2024 16:25:02 GMT

The Sun Peeked the Horizon and the

Mountains Turned Alpenglow Red

Breakfast at the Meadow Mountain Cafe in Allenspark is always a special adventure. You never know who you are going to meet and share time with. You don’t go to Meadow Mountain just to eat, although the food is wonderful. You go there to spend time, talk, share a table with a new friend, and patiently wait for a wonderful breakfast.

This morning, we joined a couple visiting from out-of-state, sharing a table and conversation. Of course, the discussion included photography, and, as it turned out, she was a iPhone photographer. Her joy was capturing amazing images with vivid colors of striking landscapes on her phone’s screen.

When she showed me an image of Dream Lake, I sat back struck by the beauty. I had hiked to Dream Lake in RMNP many times yet never at the moment the sun breaks the eastern horizon creating the alpenglow. The alpenglow is that instant when the rising sun creates a red glow on high mountains. In this case, her iPhoto showed bright red on Hallett’s Peak, a magical image..

I sat on the wooden bench along the porch railing of Meadow Mountain Cafe. A fresh Denver omelet with butter fried potatoes and a side pancake soaked in Maple syrup was before me. Looking at the iPhone image, I knew I needed to hike to Dream Lake before sunrise. I knew I needed to be there the moment the sun peeked over the horizon and the mountains turned alpenglow red.

From that moment with new friends at the Meadow Mountain Cafe, a photography goal was created.

That September, three times I hiked to Dream Lake. With the sun up at around 6:30 am, I knew I needed to be at the lake’s edge by 6:15. That meant leaving Estes Park at 5:00 to hit the trail head at Bear Lake by 5:30 where I began the trek. Each time, I hiked with my headlamp leading the way in the dark as light slowly began the day, my camera pack, tripod, and gear only a slight burden.

Along the way, I avoided the rocks and my Timberland boot guided me well. At one point in the dark, I was startled by a ptarmigan crossing the path in front of me, but she moved on, neither particularly curious nor frightened by my presence.

Halfway up, I stopped to look to the east. Light was overtaking the distant Colorado prairie, so I slipped my headlamp into my pack, took another look at the approaching light, and smiled that I was there on a mountainside at that moment.

Moving on, I made it to the edge of Dream Lake with enough light to guide my steps. There, I glanced back again then looked up at Hallett’s Peak. Light had not yet reached the mountainside, but the day was coming soon. I looked back at the lake’s water.

This was my third September sunrise at Dream Lake. Each time, the weather app had told me the winds would be still. The first two times, beautiful and tranquil, the lake had rippled slightly, taking away the reflection I sought. I wanted not just the alpenglow, but the perfect reflection of red glow in the mirror of the lake.

This morning, I grinned at the perfection before me. The water was stillness defined. With great joy, I adjusted my tripod, the legs in the shallow waters. Attaching the camera, I looked through the viewfinder, and there it was. The image I hoped to capture with the redness of alpenglow edging down from the top of Hallett’s Peak.

I adjusted the lens, checked the setting to the exact ISO and f-stop, and once again looked over my shoulder for the sun’s position. As the light moved up, the alpenglow over the continental divide moved down on Hallett’s Peak. With it, the mountains glowed red. When they had all been captured by the sun, my camera created the slightest sound, capturing the image.

Moments later, as the red faded, I knew I had the image I’d sought. Fulfilled and happy, I moved around Dream Lake capturing other images. Not so bright as the alpenglow had passed, still, they were beautiful shots. I kept appreciating the lake, stillness, and quiet of the morning.

On the hike back down, I stopped often, looking beyond the mountains to the eastern prairie. Over fifty years before I had come from there to these mountains for the first time. Today it seemed full circle being at home in Estes Park and RMNP.

Viewing the distant horizon, I thanked the lady we’d shared breakfast with at Meadow Mountain Cafe. Her creative iPhone photography had guided me to this morning, and the image created was perfect.

The Bugle

Thu, 12 Sep 2024 22:26:37 GMT

Sound Begins Low and Rises to an Ear-Splitting Shriek

The first time I heard it, I’m sure my jaw fell open, my mouth wide in surprise. That loud screaming screech, the bull elk’s head tipping backward releasing a sound that begins low and rises to an ear-splitting shriek followed by the guttural thumping as their throat wobbles. It is the elk’s unmistakable bugle announcing that the rut has arrived.

A year ago, I was standing in the middle of the meadow at Willow Park along Old Fall River Road. The sun had barely peeked over the mountains, and I was all alone surrounded by solitude. The early fall air was crisp and the sky a deep mountain blue.

That’s when I heard the first bugle, from up on the mountainside echoing from among the Engelmann spruce. It was the sound so familiar yet so unique. Then, from across the meadow, another bugle followed by one on the opposite hillside, and one from back across the meadow.

Soon, as many as eight bulls, all hidden in the timbers on the hillside bugled. Each sound was a loud, independent trumpeting announcing their location to the others. This was their area, they bugled. This was where they would find the cow elk, gather them together, and mate for the strength of the species.

It was a symphony of the species, sounds pronounced and bouncing back and forth across the meadow. The echos responded in harmony. It was a sound of endearing power.

When I first began photography, capturing the bull elk in mid-bugle was both a goal and challenge. As my cameras became more technical and faster with lenses of greater length and better glass, my skills improved, and I began to capture the images I sought.

In 2020, there was the elk Atlas bugling in the fog, and a few days later, a younger bull who bugled with mist blowing from his nostrils as saliva drooled in his throat. And then in 2021, there was Kahuna, the King of Moraine Park.

I had just turned onto the blacktop road leading into the massive meadow when I saw him along the edge. Pulling to the roadside, I moved behind my SUV with camera in hand and extended the lens to its full length. Kahuna’s harem was forty cows strong, and he worked to keep them close.

When it was important to announce his prominence, he would turn his head sideways with a slight lift, and the bugle would explode. Kahuna had a strong, deep, and dominant bugle, so powerful and unmistakable.

I remember the chill I got capturing that bugle, thrilled knowing Kahuna was special, his mating call unique, and the image dynamic. So much so, a week later it graced the cover of Estes Park News.

A year later, 2022, an elk as dynamic as Kahuna with powerful curved antlers showed the uniquely long third tines with a twist on the left one. His body was not as full, but he was nearly identical to Kahuna, working his harem with the same dominance. I put his image on Facebook beside Kahuna’s saying, “I don’t know if this is Kahuna’s son, but they’re so similar, I’m going to call him KJ for Kahuna Junior.”

Last year and again this year, Droptine (or Kickstand) has been a dominant bull in Moraine Park. So named for the tine on his left antler that drops downward instead of up. His power evokes an incredible image of a bull elk bugling his September mating intent.

But my favorite image of an elk bugling was captured on September 20, 2022 in Moraine Park. As I stood along the road, the bull appeared on a distant hill. The sun was just rising, the yellow grass glowing at his feet while it brightened the tan of his body and the brown of his mane. Behind him, the blue spruce gave a colorful texture to the image as if you could feel the sound of his bugle.

I remember sharing the image with my friend, Chris. Chris looked at me and shared, “Can you imagine being a pioneer discovering the beauty of these mountains in the 1830’s. Arriving in the summer, you toil to build a log cabin, establish a home for your family in this land you are just discovering. Then, in the middle of a September night as you sleep in your bed, for the first time you hear the powerful screeching of a bull elk’s bugle. You have no idea what the sound is. Wouldn’t you be terrified?”

I know that once I had heard the bull elk bugle, it was a sound I would never forget yet always look forward to hearing. It is that time of year. It is the elk rut and the bulls are bugling.

A Tribute to Green Ears

Thu, 05 Sep 2024 15:04:36 GMT

A beautiful creature, deeply caring mother, and a patient and gentle soul.

Her name was silly yet so obvious. Green Ears…I had known, admired, and respected her for four years. She was a beautiful creature, deeply caring mother, and a patient and gentle soul. I had observed all of these characteristics with an appreciation for her goodness.

I first meant Green Ears four years ago (2021) at the Beaver Ponds boardwalk in Rocky Mountain National Park. It was a June morning, and I had walked to the end of the wooden walkway, camera in hand.

That’s when we met. She was in the middle of the marshy meadow, two green tags - one in each ear, with her less than month old moose calf at her side. I don’t remember exactly, but I probably gasped a bit at the sight of her and her baby. Then with a deep breath and a smile, I lifted my camera viewfinder to my eye.

As I stood near the walkway railing, camera at the ready, Green Ears strolled along the stream eating aqua grass as she did. I had only brought my 150-600 mm lens with me. Nothing smaller. So as she walked along, she quickly filled the frame, her ears moving beyond the edges.

Standing behind the railing of the wooden platform, I hoped she would not be frightened. But that was not Green Ears nature. She was calm, patient with photographers, and did not show aggression. That was our first encounter.

In 2022, through the night of May 31, it snowed five inches. The day before, I had seen Green Ears and her new calf tucked into the willows in Moose Meadows between the Beaver Ponds and Deer Junction. On the morning of June 1, I went to Moose Meadows where I crossed the far end of the meadow and worked my way along the treeline to the opposite end hoping to catch a glimpse of Green Ears.

When I saw her, she was lying in the fresh snow, beautiful brown with a hint of red against the snow covered willows. Showing my respect, I stayed a safe distance away while photographing her beauty against the white backdrop.

That’s when it happened. It was one of those special moments a photographer dreams of. With my camera on Green Ears, her new calf appeared from the willows to greet her mother. Softly, her young head moved to rest gently on her mother’s muzzle. My camera lens opened and closed at the sight of the tender mother/daughter moment.

Today, it is still one of my favorite photography experiences. Yet Green Ears gave me other wonderful photography moments.

In 2023, she spent a couple of weeks in the Beaver Ponds near the boardwalk. Her new calf would nurse then test young legs running and splashing, a child at play. On May 30, I photographed Green Ears and her calf lying quietly in the grass. Two days later, she was nursing her calf, nuzzling her baby as she did.

Then two weeks later in the middle of the afternoon, I stood on the boardwalk platform with a dozen curious tourists and my RMNPhotographer Tour of four guests. No moose were in sight when suddenly Green Ear’s calf surprised us. She scooted from the willows to the opposite side of the boardwalk as tourists pointed, excited to see the calf until…

Looking for her baby, Green Ears stepped to block the boardwalk staring down at the platform full of people. We watched for a moment, and as I held the large group back, one tourist asked me, “Can we walk down there?” Stunned, I answered, “No, no, no, no, no. We wait for Green Ears to join her calf.” A few moments later, the moose I’d photographed so many times moved down into the marsh to lead her calf away from the crowd.

Green Ears continued her mothering way this summer. On June 17, 2024, my wife, Carolyn, and I went for a picnic in the quiet beauty of Endo Valley. We were enjoying the serenity and our hamburgers with Doritos and homemade chocolate chip cookies. Then, across Fall River, Green Ears appeared with her calf of the year. As our hamburgers returned to our plates, we watched her feed, her calf by her side. Seeming oblivious to us, the moose and calf enjoyed the greens along the river.

Last week, when I learned of Green Ear’s death, a wave of sadness rushed over me. She had been an amazing mother and a gentle soul. She was a beautiful moose whose patience allowed us to photograph her and her calves each year.

I will miss seeing Green Ears, mothering her babies at the Beaver Ponds, Moose Meadows, and Endo Valley. I will miss her glancing about, noticing me at a distance, and returning to her mothering ways. My only comfort is the belief that her offspring will carry on in the same vein.

Rest in peace, my gentle friend. You are missed.

Moose of a Lifetime

Fri, 30 Aug 2024 20:51:40 GMT

"My grandfather has never seen a moose."

Every year, Marcie took her grandfather on an outdoor adventure for just the two of them. It is their special time together to stay connected and build memories. This year was his 91st birthday. His legs weren’t quite as capable, his energy level not as high, but his spirit was strong.

Marcie had hired RMNPhotogrpaher Tours to show them the wonders of Rocky Mountain National Park. As we had headed into the park, she had whispered to me, “My grandfather has never seen a moose. If you could find us a moose…?”

The pressure was on. I knew we saw moose on many of our tours, but it was certainly not guaranteed. Still, I wanted her grandfather to experience seeing one of Colorado’s shiras moose. They are both dynamic and intimidating while being beautiful and bold.

As our tour moved into Horseshoe Park, I was hopeful for an early sighting. Would a moose be in the meadow, or better yet, Sheep Lakes? Would it be a simple moose sighting from across the meadow, or would it be a “moose experience” with a bold, full antlered bull moose close enough for cell phone pictures? I wanted it to be a “moose experience,” so I searched the meadow to no avail. No moose experience as we moved past “Horseshoe Park.”

We made it up the Alluvial Fan where they listened intently about the flood of 1982. As the car began to trudge up Old Fall River Road, I told them of Enos Mills and the history of the park. Eventually, we made it to the ranger cabin in Willow Park. As there has often been, I hoped a moose might be grazing on the willows…a “moose experience” for sure. Instead, a bull elk strolled through, likely searching for a harem to gather as this was the fall of year.

At the Alpine Visitor Center, Marcie’s grandfather stood in awe of the view, asking the name of each peak. I offered a weak apology for not yet seeing a moose. I knew our best chances had passed us by, but he waved me off his hand reaching out as if to torch the mountains. “How can you not be inspired by this?”

Driving down Trail Ridge Road, I still hoped we might find a moose, maybe at the Beaver Ponds or Sheep Lakes where an afternoon moose feeding was not unusual. The bulls would dip their heads in the water to find the moist aqua grasses, lifting up as water rained down from their antlers. That, I thought, would be a treat for this 91 year old traveler.

Moving From the Trees was a Huge Bull Moose

The drive down was fun and conversational as I shared unique tidbits of RMNP information. Rounding the curve passing Hidden Valley, I looked into the opening of the grassy area. Startled, I pointed. There, moving from the trees was a huge bull moose, its antlers a tint of red from the shedding of velvet.

For a moment he paused, and Marcie gasped, lifting her cell phone as she snapped images. Then, just as quickly, the massive bull moose turned running into the golden Aspen trees. Her grandfather was bouncing in his seat, excited to have seen a moose. Not just seen, but this one had been fairly close and quite impressive.

At the next pullout, I turned around, and Marcie looked at me curiously. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Where he’s going,” I told her.

Driving back, I turned into Hidden Valley, moving halfway down the parking lot. There, we stepped outside of the truck, and Marcie helped her father with the big step down. I told them, “Stand here beside the truck. There’s a stream right down there that the moose often follow. If we’re lucky, we’ll see him.”

A moment later, I saw the tip of his antlers moving among the willows along the creek. Pointing, I instructed, “Watch right there.”

As we watched, from below the hill appeared the giant bull moose. Massive and dynamic, he came over the rise, his chest with a powerful thrust as he walked. His antlers were huge and intimidating, a hint of velvet still lingering.

I heard Marcie’s gasp, then her father began jumping up and down, or at least jumping as a 91 year old might. “This is great,” he spoke out loud. “My first moose and he’s a big one.” His cell phone up, he pushed the button time and time again.

For the next few minutes we watched the magnificent bull moose walk through the grasses, move down near the creek, rub his antlers against the bushes to free them of the remaining velvet, and head up the valley following the creek. All the while, my 91 year old guest talked on. Excited over the moose’s size and presence, RMNPhotographer Tours had given a 91 year old man a wildlife thrill.

Marcie thanked me, so appreciative as her father asked, “He was a big one, wasn’t he?” I answered him truthfully. “Sir, that was the moose of a lifetime.”

Black Bear in Hyperphagia

Fri, 23 Aug 2024 12:14:20 GMT

Black Bears in Hyperphagia Love Choke Cherries

It was the end of August two years ago. The choke cherries had ripened to a deep purple, and the black bears were in hyperphagia. Despite being in RMNP almost daily either photographing wildlife, the dynamic images of the park, or guiding a RMNPhotographer Tour, I had only spotted a couple of black bears that summer.

I knew where several choke cherry bushes were, the berries having transitioned from red to purple. As I drove the park, my eyes searched the choke cherries stands knowing the black bear would be seeking them out.

In hyperphagia, the bears were gorging themselves preparing for hibernation. Thus the term, hyper meaning “over” and phagia meaning “hunger.” During this time, bears spend their waking hours eating and can gain up to four pounds a day, bulking up with enough fat stored to make it through the winter.

As I drove the park searching, my disappointment was growing. I was about to give up when I spotted the unmistakable hump of a reddish phase black bear moving through the bushes. Smiling, I said to myself, “There you are.”

Pulling over, I climbed from my SUV, camera in hand, and moved to the edge of the road. From there, I searched the bushes watching for the reddish hump to appear once again.

Cautious and keeping my distance, I continued to maneuver the edge of the road, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. Stepping up, I moved just above the road, my eyes scanning the distant hillside. Still, I could not find her.

Disappointed, I looked up toward the sky wondering where she might have disappeared to. That’s when I saw them high up in a towering ponderosa pine. One was sleeping with its legs dangling down each side of a branch. The other sat on a neighboring branch, looking sweet and innocent despite the intent look as her eyes stared down at me. They were late summer twin black bear cubs with a hint of red in their coats.

I moved to my right, adjusting for better light with the sun more at my back. As I moved, the one cub watched me. I lifted my camera, extending my lens to its full 600 mm while staying a good distance away. Looking through the viewfinder, I knew I’d be able to draw the cubs in more on my computer bringing them full-frame into the picture.

Snapping several images, I lowered the camera searching for mama bear. Just thinking “mama bear” gave me the willies. Nervous. knowing she must be near, I scanned the choke cherries, but she was not in the bushes.

She was Protective of her Cubs

As I glanced back up toward the cubs, that’s when I spotted her. In the tree, between the ground and her twin cubs, mama bear was standing on one branch, leaning over another, and watching me. It was ominous, eerie, and frightening. Even though I was a safe distance away, to have her watching me from the tree made me feel a little like potential hamburger.

Almost a natural reaction, I lifted my camera. She moved to sit on a branch, still aware of me. I knew two things. While I was well away from her, she was protective of her cubs, and my presence had disturbed her.

That’s when I began moving backwards away from the bears in the tree onto the road and to my SUV. At the same time, mama bear suddenly ran head first down the tree, landing on the ground looking at me where she sat watching and protective.

Having seen the speed and agility of her running down the tree, the willies became more intense. While I thanked mama bear for sharing her babies with me, I knew I should leave her at peace with her cubs and the choke cherries, eating for her winter health.

Driving away, I breathed deeply, exhilarated.

One year later, I was in the park about 200 yards from where I’d seen the sow and her cubs. As I drove up, there was a crowd of people on one side of the road, cameras and cell phones in hand pointing across to the other side.

As I stepped from my vehicle, I saw her. A reddish phase yearling black bear was eating the choke cherries. While I took her picture, I smiled wondering if this could be one of the cubs. Had she returned to the same area to enjoy the fruit that tasted like the most bitter and driest or wines?

The young bear watched the tourists, scooting away from the choke cherries only to be drawn back to the flavor despite the presence of people. I smiled at her, more mature and independent enjoying the fruit she’d grown up on.

RMNP Reflections

Thu, 15 Aug 2024 13:17:47 GMT

Life Reflections are Important

I think I like images that include reflections because I am a reflector. I reflect back on life, the lessons learned, and the memories the image create. In my most recent book, Mentors and Influences: Fun Tales and the Transformational Impact of Lessons Learned in Life released on August 12 (Amazon.com), I reflect on the lessons learned through my life’s journey.

Those life reflections are important to me because with each I have learned and grown developing as a person. I think that is why some of my favorite photographs are images from RMNP capturing a reflection. I appreciate the perfection of a mirrored image showing what life really looks like.

Recently, as I stood above Sheep Lakes in RMNP, I watched three large bull moose grazing across the meadow of Horseshoe Park. My hope was they would come to the lake, and I would capture the moment as all three stepped into the early morning water with a clear reflection.

Alas, apparently, I have to train my moose better. After waiting half an hour, one moose started the trek across the meadow. Excited, I stepped behind my tripod waiting for the moose to reach the lake, feeling confident the other two would follow closely behind. But the other two moose were happy right where they were, grazing among the willows.

Still, the one moose crossed Horseshoe Park meadow with a determination to feed on the aqua grass growing from the bottom of Sheep Lakes. I stood behind my camera with the 600 mm lens atop the tripod and waited. At the moment when the moose began to enter the lake, he created slight ripples. That’s when I captured the reflecting image I sought.

So often, our RMNP lakes provide reflections. In the fall when the leaves are changing, the Aspen colors are bright both on the hillside and in the calm waters of Bear Lake. Once on a spring morning at Sheep Lakes, the reflection created an up-side-down dynamic of the hillside pines in the water. Thinking it was an interesting shot, a young bull moose wandered into the viewfinder’s frame creating a melancholy highlight.

One reflection image I really worked for was of Dream Lake. It is like a dream when at sunrise the sun strikes the backdrop of Hallet’s Peak creating a terracotta alpenglow. The mountain brightens, the greens of the trees begin to pop, and the reflection is magnificent.

Three different mornings, I left Bear Lake long before sunrise, hiking in the dark with a headlamp strapped to my forehead guiding the way to Dream Lake. The first two mornings, as I waited for the sun to crest from the distant eastern prairie, I knew it would be incredible but not a reflection. The slight ripples of the water left it beautiful, but not the mirrored image I sought.

Then on the third attempt, as I reached the edge of Dream Lake the air was still. In the hint of morning light, I could see the reflection of Hallet’s Peak in the water. I knew, if the wind would stay quiet for a little longer, the reflection would be amazing.

The Reflection was Incredible

I set my tripod, attached the camera, and took test shots. Glancing over my shoulder to the eastern horizon, I waited. As the sun worked toward the crest, Hallet’s Peak began to brighten. First at the top, then down along the sides until the alpenglow embraced the entire rock formation.

The reflection was incredible. Blues in the sky reflected in the water as shadows engulfed the lake’s edge. In between the lake and sky the alpenglow created dynamic red in the rocks of Hallet’s, and the reflection was perfect.

This summer, as I strolled around Sprague Lake with RMNPhotographer guests, the sun brightened the sky blues and pine greens. As we stopped half way around, I pointed back toward Hallet’s Peak and listened for their gasps of awe. As their cameras came up, I snapped images of the Continental Divide reflecting in Sprague Lake, the reflection creating a calm I yearned for.

In a way, while I had just published Mentors and Influences, Sprague Lake had been both a mentor and influence to me throughout my life. There I have shared time with family, photographed cow moose and twin calves, walked the lake holding hands with my lovely wife, and shared many, many sunrises with my photography friends.

Sprague Lake too has been my mentor teaching me calm and influencing my own positive perspective of life. And Sprague Lake has often shared an amazing sunrise from the east followed by an incredible reflection to the west.

A morning of Sprague Lake’s reflection always leads to a day of optimism.

Big Thompson Canyon

Thu, 08 Aug 2024 23:51:19 GMT

The Walls of Big Thompson Canyon

Changed our Laughter to Awe

Photos from the Alexander Mountain Fire Facebook Page and by Darlene Bushue

I was fifteen years old the first time I traveled Highway 34 up the Big Thompson Canyon. It was July 1970, and I was in the back of a long station wagon extended like a limousine to hold fifteen passengers. We were headed from Nebraska for camp at the YMCA of the Rockies in Estes Park. Silly, creative high school sophomores, we nicknamed ourselves the “Weenie Wagoneers.”

Back then, the Dam Store was a hilarious name. Damn was not a word used out loud by teenagers, so the double entendre created adolescent laughter. As we passed the Dam Store, quickly, the walls of the Big Thompson Canyon changed our laughter to awe.

I looked up seeing the lines of rocks going toward the sky. The unique angles made for a dynamic image in the mind of an awe struck teenager. I remember watching transfixed at the ledges, angles, and colors. It was so far removed from anything I had seen driving Highway 34 along the Platte River in the prairie of Nebraska.

I remember several years later seeing a photograph of five big horn rams pressed together on a small ledge high up on the cliff in the narrows of Big Thompson Canyon. How they got there and where they were going, I had no idea, but I was inspired by their agility to be pressed together on the towering cliff. I envisioned that someday I might take such a picture.

The Weenie Wagoneers worked our way up the canyon to the Colorado Cherry Company where we tumbled out of the station wagon to test the black bing and tart red cherry juices. I remember thinking it tasted different than anything I’d ever tasted, wondering if that might taste like the sloe gin that was still a mystery to me. I bought a bottle to go.

Along the way cabins lined the sides of the canyon. There were log cabins like the pioneers built, castles that seemed perfectly out of place, and retreats up on the hillside. As dreams floated through my mind, I thought maybe…Maybe someday…

When we reached Drake, I looked for the town but only saw a building. Smiling, it seemed like a small, mountain town with one spot that everyone knew and homes scattered along Highway 34 and up the side roads hidden in the hills.

As we wound up the road, the river rushed the opposite way. A little mountain river that seemed picturesque, almost quaint, like the Big Thompson should actually be the Little Thompson River.

I was not prepared for the Spectacular View Before Me

When we emerged from the canyon, I was not prepared for the spectacular view before me. The road led to Estes Park with a panoramic view of spectacular mountains rising up behind. Like a wall with a mystery beyond, the mountains were snow capped and towering over this little mountain village.

That mountain rage, I learned later, was the continental divide, a unique separation of water’s power to flow east or west, to one ocean or the other. A couple of years later, a friend would drive me up there, over Trail Ridge Road to 12,183 ft. with spectacular and terrifying views.

Now, fifty years later, I take others up Trail Ridge Road on RMNPhotographer Tours. As I drive, I watch their eyes absorbing the beauty surrounding them. I hear their nervous laughter, and share in the “awe” as they point to distant lakes and the tundra where elk lazily feed.

This month, as fires have ravaged the canyon, I also know of the destruction that can come with the power of nature. The Alexander Mountain and Stone Canyon Fires have devastated so many. Thinking back to the first Big Thompson Canyon disaster I remember 48 years ago, six years after the Weenie Wagoneers ventured up the canyon.

On July 31, 1976, a stalled thunderstorm produced rainfall totals of 12–14 inches near Estes Park, including 7.5 inches of rain falling in one hour. The rain rushed down the rock walls into the canyon causing a destructive flash flood down the Big Thompson River. When all was done, 144 were dead and roads had been swept away, homes demolished, and people’s sense of mountain tranquility challenged.

As a twenty-one year old living in Nebraska, when I heard of the Big Thompson Flood, I remember the tears. I knew I dreamed of one day living at the top of the Big Thompson Canyon in this utopian place called Estes Park. Following such destruction, I wondered if it would ever be the same.

But the canyon, town, and surrounding communities came back strong. The hearty and capable people rebuilt after the 1976 flood, 1982 Lawn Lake Flood, 2013 flood, and the Cameron Peak and East Troublesome Fires of 2020.

Today, living in Estes Park, I know those who live around us will recover from the Alexander Mountain and Stone Canyon Fires. The skies will return to a breath-taking blue, our animal friends will find their homes as the vegetation regrows, and travel will return from the prairie up the Big Thompson Canyon.

I know when the Big Thompson Canyon crests into Estes Park, we will all be struck with the wonderview.

My Favorite RMNP Rock

Thu, 01 Aug 2024 13:16:47 GMT

Anticipating a Beautiful Rocky Mountain Day

At sunrise, anticipating a beautiful rocky mountain day, I found myself at Sprague Lake. It is my favorite place in the park to capture the sunrise. There the light peeks over the eastern mountains and reflects in the lake to start a wonderful day.

After capturing the full sun, I turned on the boardwalk and looked at the pond behind me. Beyond it, Hallet’s Peak stood dominate. In the pond, the water was still except for a goose swimming by creating a perfect mirrored reflection.

The goose swam past the red boulder standing like an island in the middle of the pond. A tingle rushed over my body. That happens when the beauty of RMNP overwhelms me. In this case, a goose swimming by a red rock in a pond sent goose bumps rising.

From there, I toured the lower valley capturing images. Pink clouds reflected over Longs Peak, elk grazed in Horseshoe Park, and deer gathered on the hillside of…Deer Mountain. The morning gave me an incredible thrill, a rush of appreciation for the dynamic beauty.

It’s a Beautiful Rock

After a morning of photography, I returned home. Walking through the door, Carolyn asked, “How was it?” I grinned and answered, “You know, it’s amazing when a rock can give you goosebumps.” “Your favorite rock?” she asked. “Yep,” I answered with a smile. “The red rock in the pond behind the boardwalk at Sprague Lake.”

It’s a beautiful rock sticking up in the middle of the water adding shades of red to compliment the blue and green reflections. That rock has enhanced so many images I have captured over the years. In 2017, there was the moose family in the pond. Last year a three month old moose calf was running playfully through the water, and a mallard flapped his wings while standing on top like king of the hill.

Rocky Mountain National Park is dominated by rocks that are more than 1,800 million years old. They are primarily gneiss and schist, which are granite and quartz type rocks. But, I’m not a geologist who has studied the history, materials, and physical nature of rocks. I’m a photographer who looks at rocks and utters phrases like “that one’s cool,” “isn’t that rock pretty,” or “that rock looks like my kitchen counter.”

I’ve also seen bear looking rocks, dark in the shadows of ponderosa pine. One time a tourist screamed at me to back away. Her voice was terrified, positive I was about to be attacked and mauled by a very dark, round rock she’d mistaken for a bear. Or there are moose looking rocks that have made me do double takes. And there was one moose looking rock that suddenly moved. It was actually a rock looking moose.

I like the rocks at the bottom of the streams too. Those colorful, smooth rocks have been turned shiny by the constant flow of water. Then there’s the rocks that lay on the road, warning us that tumbling rocks from above are a hazard to be aware of. They are a frightening warning of the precarious nature of the mountains.

A couple years ago, there was a huge boulder that had fallen onto Trail Ridge Road just above Rainbow Curve. As I drove by, there was a park worker standing on top drilling into the granite. I wondered to myself, “What are they going to do, dynamite it apart?” If I remember the news story correctly, the plan was actually much more sophisticated. They filled the bored holes with caulking. When the caulking dried, it expanded, breaking the rock apart into smaller, manageable pieces. Who would have guessed?

The uniqueness of nature shows in rocks. There are rocks with a small bunch of flowers or a single pine tree growing from them. They are diet trees, skinny because they don’t have much to eat, and they twist as their roots grow searching for the soil that may have worked into the rock’s crevice.

But my favorite rock is the one in the pond, behind the boardwalk at Sprague Lake.

When I arrived at Sprague Lake that morning, I was pleased to see a Canada goose perched on top of the red rock. He stood tall on his own little mountain, and his reflection was perfect in the water like in a freshly cleaned mirror. I smiled from the hillside, took one more look around the marsh for moose, then walked to the water’s edge.

There I squatted as low to the water as I could get, and snapped images of the goose’s reflection. Then, fighting my balance, I watched through the viewfinder as the goose dropped into the water, swimming past the red rock. My camera shutter clicked away.

Once home, I sorted through the images I’d captured, finding the very best. I enlarged it, corrected the color slightly, and smiled at the results.

Holding my computer up for Carolyn to seek. She said, “Oh what a beautiful goose.” And I answered, “And an even more beautiful rock.”

A "Thanks You, Karla" Moose

Fri, 26 Jul 2024 13:45:52 GMT

I Want to See a Moose

My wife’s best friend, Karla, was coming to visit us in Estes Park. So important to our family, she had given amazing support to Carolyn when Carolyn’s first husband died of ALS. For years, Karla had been Carolyn’s personal support and professional mentor whenever needed.

So I asked Karla, “What do you want to see while you’re here?” Without hesitation, she answered as many do, “I want to go on a RMNPhotographer Tour and see a moose.”

So that next morning, we set off on a RMNPhotographer Tour . It was a crisp, July morning as we left at sunrise. Searching for moose in Horseshoe Park, Sheep Lakes, and Endo Valley, we were disappointed but determined. Continuing on, I drove us up Old Fall River Road.

Karla is a city girl who has not spent much time in the backcountry. To her, Old Fall River Road was a daring experience into the wilderness. Imagine your total unfamiliarity with such an environment. Not knowing where you’re going, in the first few hundred yards you experience a narrow, one lane dirt trail with over hanging rock formations and dropoffs looming on the other side. It can be gut churning excitement for someone who's never experienced such an adventure. That was Karla, gripping the door handle, her eyes wide with excitement.

She was enthralled and enthusiastic as I explained the history of the road. Mesmerized by the view, she’d point across the canyon at rock formations, spots of Aspen, and small waterfalls. We stopped at Chasm Falls, the beauty and solitude surrounding us. She breathed the air deeply.

Three miles up, the switchback showed an incredible view to the east. I pointed, saying, “That’s where we came from. Those lakes are Sheep Lakes in Horseshoe Park.” Karla’s hand went to her chest, overwhelmed by the beauty.

As we passed the remaining snowfields and trickling waterfalls, I explained we were coming toward an open area of meadows where elk and moose might be seen. Karla’s eyes became alert. We watched, searched, but still no moose.

Reaching Willow Park, we walked back toward the cabin. The early morning sun brightened the wildflowers as Karla followed me closely, quietly. Slowly, my hand came up as I guided her into the opening before the cabin.

Moose Experience of a Lifetime

There I pointed to the meadow beyond. Feeding on the greens along the trickle of Fall River were a cow moose and her two month old calf. Over the past weeks, I had watched them several times, seeing them up and down the meadows in this area.

This morning, they had rewarded me by being in an open spot where I could give my wife’s friend what she’d hoped for. Seeing her first moose, Karla was taken back by the calm of the mother and innocence of the calf. The calf looked up watching us, and I smiled knowing the emotions rushing through Karla.

As we watched, I explained the history of moose in RMNP. I told her of the Colorado Parks and Wildlife’s effort to introduce them near Walden beginning in 1978. I shared their history and migration into the park and their strong, active presence throughout Colorado’s rocky mountains.

Karla stood in awe watching the mother feed, the baby moving about, sometimes running from spot to spot like a playful child. As she watched from a safe distance, I moved through the meadow along Fall River searching. I knew there might be more wildlife, and I wanted Karla to experience all she could.

That is when I saw him. Down in the gully along the river was a massive bull moose feeding on the grass. The sun had crested the hillside to cover him in light. Still in velvet, he was calm yet intimidating, and I did not want to disturb him.

Stepping back out of sight, I waved for Karla to come my way. As she did, I stepped back to view the impressive bull lifting my camera to capture his beauty. As Karla moved up beside me, I heard her gasp.

For forty-five minutes, Karla and I stood side-by-side in awe of the massive moose. Impressed by the bull’s size and magnificence, we watched quietly. At times, he would raise his head, looking about but never bothered, then return to his grazing. It was a beautiful experience of privately sharing time in the wild with a moose more impressive than Karla could have imagined.

And I was pleased that I could give this to her, a small present of thanks for all she had given to Carolyn during her most significant time of need. With this wonderful moose experience, I was able to offer a small thank you to Karla.

And for Karla, she’d had a moose experience of a lifetime.

Neighborhood Guests

Fri, 19 Jul 2024 12:35:41 GMT

Our Neighborhood Guests Have Been Many

Guests. We all love to have them, but silently hope they don’t overstay their welcome. It’s been that way in our Estes Park neighborhood for the past couple of weeks.

It’s amazing to see a bear, but I hope he’s still not wandering the development at 5:00 am when I take the dogs out. The deer and her twin fawns are adorable, but mom can be a bit aggressive in protecting them. And the elk that come to visit. As if invited for dessert, just when my wife Carolyn’s petunias bloom, they eat all the beautiful purple, red, and yellow flowers.

The past couple of weeks, the guests have been many.

First, and maybe the most amazing, was the young bull moose that visited Coffee on the Rocks. While guests enjoyed a white mocha or cappuccino with avocado toast while sitting peacefully around the pond, ducks with ducklings were paddled around seeking bits of their own breakfast.

That’s when the young bull moose appeared, looking around as if trying to decide which seat to take. Then he wandered into the pond joining the geese, mallards, and their young. He strode chest deep, his head bobbing for the delicate aqua grass (Photo by Doug Rees-Evans). It was a “Northern Exposure” moment - you remember the opening TV credits when the moose strode down the main street of Cicely, Alaska.

It was a couple of days later as I stood on the deck of Coffee on the Rocks when a RMNPhotographer Tour guest pointed, “Do you see the bear?” A solid black bear traversed down the hill, crossing Moraine Avenue. I grabbed my camera, and moved along the walk toward Park River West.

He was in the front yard of my friend’s house sniffing the tree, looking up as if ready to climb. From Moraine Avenue, I lifted my camera, extended the lens to 600 mm, and pressed the shutter button. The black bear paused, glancing my way before strolling down the street.

A couple of days later, I stepped onto our deck as I will most mornings, the blue sky mountain air filling my lungs with optimism. A doe stood mostly hidden in the pine trees across the drive. Then another doe appeared. Finally, as if just awaking and full of energy, three spotted fawns came running playfully from the grove.

The mule deer does made their way toward me. One stopped just below my raised deck, and the twin fawns ran to greet her immediately nursing for comfort. As they did, the third single fawn stopped to sniff their mother before joining her own.

It Is Our Home and Their Home

The next evening, sitting in my living room watching reruns of “Blue Bloods,” Carolyn called from the deck, “Brad, get your camera.” Both the words and the tone of her voice caused me to jump into action.

As I stepped onto the raised deck, Carolyn pointed down. A group of elk, cows and calves, maybe fifteen of them were grazing just below us. I watched, snapping pictures and appreciating the playful nature of the calves.

Then they took the same path as the bear moving through the neighboring development toward Big Thompson River. I slipped on my flip-flops and took a different route to the river. There, the elks were on the edge nibbling sweet Aspen leaves. Standing away, I positioned myself down river, the sun at my back, and waited.

They began to cross, the mothers walking chest deep against the flowing current. The calves fought against the strength of the water to keep up with their mothers. In the mid-summer river depth, they all crossed safely gathering on the other bank to resume feeding, the babies close to their mother’s side.

A day later in the afternoon, as Carolyn and I were in the basement hanging pictures, we looked out the large window behind my writing table. There stood the mule deer doe and her twins looking in at us. As we looked back at them, it made me wonder which one of us were the guests.

It is the world we live in. It is Estes Park where we share our neighborhoods with the guests who have always lived here. It is where we watch swimming moose while sipping cappuccino, laugh at the playfulness of fawns, cheer for the elk calves who fight the river’s current and win, and are amazed as a bear strides by. In his comfort, he is returning to the wild to find a tree and sleep the day away.

It is our home and their home. It is Estes Park.

Varmints

Fri, 12 Jul 2024 12:33:17 GMT

A troublesome wild animal

I Googled varmints and found this definition: “A troublesome wild animal.” That definition is broader than I expected.

I always thought of varmints as mice in my garage, squirrels eating all of the food in the bird feeder, or that one time, years ago in Nebraska when I took the garbage out (after dark no less) and there was a possum in the trash can. Did he scare me? Well, after that I carried a brightly lit flashlight to take the trash out. That was a varmint.

On a recent RMNPhotographer Tour, a chipmunk scurried across the road in front of us as we moved up Old Fall River Road. A guest asked, “What was that?” I replied, “A varmint.” “What’s a varmint?” they asked.

With the question, I flashed back to my early years as an English teacher. I shared an old, drafty house with another teacher we’ll call Scott. Scott was on one couch, I was on the other, and we were grading our students’ papers. As we did, a varmint went scooting across the living room floor. Simultaneously, we both yelled, “What was that?” When we did, we realized we had both jumped and were standing on our couches. Real men, athletic coaches, strong bodies standing on a couch terrified of a mouse.

Such was a varmint experience. Now I see varmints every day. There is the least chipmunk, least because it’s the smallest member of the chipmunk family. Least chipmunks are the varmints along Trail Ridge Road that dare tourists to feed them. They jump on the rock wall, scoot up before a teenager from Iowa, sit up all cute like, and rub their hands together as if they can’t wait for the next Cheeto.

My favorite varmint is the golden-mantled ground squirrel. For years, I thought the golden-mantled ground squirrel was a chipmunk. Why? Because they look just like Alvin the Chipmunks. Alvin and his brothers, definitely varmints but adorable ones, don’t have stripes on their faces anymore. Somewhere along the animated history of Alvin and the Chipmunks, they lost their stripes. So are Alvin and the Chipmunks really golden-mantled ground squirrels? A serious question for varmint lovers to ponder.

The rodent ground squirrels, stripless and larger, are definitely varmints. While cute when they rise up on their hind legs and stand erect scanning the area for predators, they can turn hillsides to dust. Digging their burrows, they churn up the ground leaving the soft earth scattered with holes. Those are the holes that my dogs, dogs not much bigger than varmints, want to stick their snouts in. So each time we pass a varmint hole, my dog’s noses become dirty, their paws covered in dust. Though I pull them away, they continue to want to play in the varmint's dirt.

We all know about marmots, the whistle pigs of the tundra. High in the mountain elevations, they sun themselves on rocks as they scan the horizon. Then, when a Tesla quietly sneaks up on them, and they are surprised by the silent car, they let out a high-pitched chirp warning all the other marmots. A potential electrical threat is approaching like a trojan horse full of tourists ready to leap from the car, cellphone cameras in hand.

You both love and loathe the varmints

Oh, you have to both love and loathe the varmints. Years ago, I sat with my sister, Claire, in the quiet solitude of a mountain rock high on the tundra. It was a peaceful moment of a brother and sister talking easily as we scanned the distant beauty of the towering, snow capped peaks.

Claire, in her comfort, opened a Snickers Bars. Placing it in her lap, she secured the wrapper in a safe place for disposal. As she did, a golden-mantled ground squirrel appeared from nowhere. Quickly in her lap, he seized the Snickers Bar, bigger than he was, in the grip of his jaws, and ran off with the sweet meal leaving my sister treatless.

Yes, they are varmints, but they can save a tour when the larger animals have hidden from us. When our RMNPhotographer tour guests have not been blessed with a moose sighting, a bull elk striding through a meadow, or a bighorn sheep grazing on the hillside, on the way back down Trail Ridge Road we stop at Rainbow Curve.

There our guests will gaze out over the eastern horizon past Horseshoe Park and Estes Park only to be surprised by scavenging varmints. The chipmunks and golden-mantled ground squirrel will leap to the rock ledge begging to be fed. Our guests, surprised, will quickly turn to “ooohhing” and “aaahhing” at the little critters sitting before them. While we don’t feed them, watching them scoot and scurry from tourist to tourist is adorable.

When all other animals have hidden from us, the varmints save our tour as a delightful, little wildlife experience.

Old Fall River Road Opening Day

Thu, 04 Jul 2024 21:19:44 GMT

Opening Day on Old Fall River Road

The first time I drove up Old Fall River Road, years ago as a young photographer seeking adventure, I was both thrilled and intimidated. The rock overhangs looked ominous, the switchbacks menacing, and the dropoffs dangerously forbidding. Yet it was so beautiful, incredibly beautiful.

Today, with RMNPhotographer Tours I drive it nearly every day, and its beauty continues to capture my sense of adventure. So much so, on the day early in July when Old Fall River Road opens, I try to be one of the first to drive up. One year, I was the second vehicle when the ranger opened the gate. My quest to be #1 continues.

On Saturday, July 3, 2021, I was at the gate before sunrise, driving up with anticipation. With the absence of cars since the previous October, would there be animals wandering about? Would I see bighorn sheep on the opposite cliff side, elk in the valley willows, a bear lumbering over the rocks, or a moose in Willow Park?

I drove excited, watching through the trees. On an early switchback, I saw the sun peek over the foothills from the prairie miles to the east. For a moment, I stopped in the middle of the road watching, thankful for the sunrise experience. Content, I drove on pulling into the Chasm Falls parking area. There, I walked the tricky steps down to the base of the falls. On the platform, I stood and listened to the wonderful sound of tumbling water in a beautiful moment of solitude. I was alone and at peace in the mountains.

Climbing back up, I continued on toward Willow Park. There, I parked my SUV on the side of the road and began the easy walk back to the ranger cabin. I was surrounded by quiet and comforted by the silence. Alone in this special place, as I neared the cabin I stepped to where the trees opened to the meadow.

Curled Up in Sleep was a Large Bull Moose

Startled, my eyes popped, and I jumped back frightened. A few feet to my left, lying on the ground curled up in sleep was a large bull moose, its velvet antlers not yet fully grown yet still intimidating. When I jumped, he woke, his head coming up surprised by my presence.

Freezing, I did not move. I had already disturbed him, and I did not want to be a threat. As he watched me, I slowly backed away down the trail toward Old Fall River Road. As I did, he calmly looked about. Much to my relief, he lowered his head once more to sleep.

With the bull moose sleeping, I worked my way up on the hillside through the trees to a point where my camera could see him, yet I was not a threat. There I sat on a log and watched him sleep, every now and then pressing the shutter button of my camera to capture the moment.

In time, the sun crested the mountain. Shining on the bull moose, he warmed and slowly began to wake again. First, his head lifted, and he looked about, his nose in the air. Then his body straightened from the curl he’d slept in. His back legs pushed upward, his front knees pushed on the ground under him until he lifted to stand.

Like I would do, he arched his back stretching, leaned over his front legs extending his back. And as if in a shiver, he shook. Standing still for a moment, he turned his head side to side as if cracking his neck. Finally, lifting his back leg, his head turned toward his backside, and his antler went under the leg to scratch his belly. I thought of my own waking routine.

Once awake, he looked up at me. It was not a “good morning” welcome as much as a bold moose telling me he knew I was there, and I was not to bother him before breakfast. Then he turned and moved gangly into the willows where he began to nibble on the green willow leaves.

As he wandered into Willow Park, I moved down to the cabin sitting on the steps. From there I took pictures. Other people were now walking in from Old Fall River Road, and I would halt them with a raised hand. Then in a quieting motion, I would point toward the willows. That is when they would start, just a bit, rising up on their toes when they saw the magnificent bull moose.

Over the next half hour, he fed as he slowly moved across Willow Park. Once on the other side, as wildlife will do, he magically disappeared into the trees.

Moments later when I returned to my car, thrilled with the experience, I thought of the bull moose. The way he had awakened from his sleep much as I might, his stretching and neck turning, his body shaking in a shiver as the sun warmed him.

The moose, I knew, had awakened from a good night’s sleep in the quiet of Willow Park along Old Fall River Road and was looking forward to the day ahead.

Timberline-Let the Breeze Caress Your Mind

Thu, 27 Jun 2024 15:18:13 GMT

And Dream, Be What You Seem, Up On The Timberline

Jim Salestrom’s first band and album was entitled “Timberline.” It made me fall in love with both acoustic music and the tundra all at once. The timberline, that point where the trees give way to an openness, “We’ve got to climb, Closer to time, Up on the Timberline. Where the air is fresh, problems less, let the breeze caress your mind.” (Salestrom 1977)

In 1979, I was trying to figure my life out, a confused nearly adult just out of college in my first teaching job. Like any reliable 1970s post-hippy, I was searching for the light in my life. At the time, it only made sense to hitch-hike from Estes Park to Steamboat Springs where I walked into the wilderness alone for a week.

During my journey, I caught a ride on the back of a flatbed truck over Trail Ridge Road. As I felt the chill of the timberline, Jim’s words inspired me, “And dream, be what you seem, up on the timberline where hope and love and peace all intertwine.”

Throughout my life, Jim’s music continued to inspire me. While he developed a successful solo career, he began playing with the Dolly Parton Band in 1979, and that relationship continued for over forty years. But he always returned to his two homes. One in Nebraska where I lived, and his adopted home in Breckenridge, Colorado.

(Photos courtesy of James Salestrom. John Denver photo by Brian Schrack)

A Classic Acoustic Music Story

Being such a great fan, over the years I got to know Jim. I remember having dinner with him in Hastings, NE. I was doing the art fair with my photography, and Jim was the music talent. That night he told me a great story, one that is epic for a mountain and acoustic music fans.

When Jim was in high school, he was hired to help as a “roadie” for John Denver’s first concert at the Red Rocks Amphitheater. As Jim was setting up the mics on stage, a voice behind him said, “Can I help you with that?” Jim answered, “No...these are John Denver's mic stands. This is my job, and I’m on it.” When the person behind him began laughing, Jim turned to see John Denver.

Face to face with his inspiration and musical mentor, they struck up a conversation. From one musician to another, John told Jim, “You’re only relevant in this business for a short time. I was relevant with ‘Take Me Home, Country Road.’ I’m going to introduce a song tonight that I think will make me relevant again.”

As Jim shared with me, “That night, long before there was a roof on the Red Rock Amphitheater, a harvest moon rose over the horizon. In the glow of the moon, for the first time in public, John Denver played ‘Rocky Mountain High.’”

Over the years, Jim and John continued their relationship. Jim recorded vocals and banjo on John Denver’s album Different Directions and sang with John in concert (jimsalestrom.com). On March 12th, 2007, Jim was honored to perform at the Colorado Capital when John's song "Rocky Mountain High" was elevated to an official Colorado State Song.

Three years ago, when I started RMNPhotographer Tours, I began playing Jim’s song “Timberline” for our guests. As we would drive over Trail Ridge Road, I’d share the song that had inspired my deeper love for the mountains.

“We’ve got to climb, Closer to time, Up on the Timberline. Where the air is fresh, problems less, let the breeze caress your mind. And dream, be what you seem, up on the timberline where hope and love and peace all intertwine.”

Those words, written by Jim, inspired me. It enriched my love for Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park, and the words guided me to live a life of dreams, hope, love and peace all intertwined. I cannot drive Trail Ridge Road without thinking of those words or silently thanking my friend, Jim Salestrom.

Two years ago, I was able to reconnect with Jim, and we had a wonderful conversation. As always, he was vibrant, upbeat, and gracious. And to hear his music again, music that inspired me and brought me to love and live in Estes Park, was a treasure given.

This week, a Celebration of Life was held for Jim in Breckenridge. Jim had lost his battle with cancer, and many attended to celebrate an inspirational life. He was a man of great character, heart, music, and family. Jim was one of those wonderful people who made our world so much better.

And, I thought of another song recorded by Jim, one I’d heard him sing many, many times. The song, by Hugh Prestwood, is “Bristlecone Pine” with lyrics including “When I'm laid to rest it would suit me just fine to sleep at the feet of the bristlecone pine.”

I know Jim left our world much better, and I know these mountains we all love helped him inspire many to live a better life. On this day, I know he rests in the shadow of a wonderful life “at the feet of the bristlecone pine.”

To an amazing and wonderful man…Jim, may your music play on.

A Parade of Elk

Fri, 21 Jun 2024 02:14:39 GMT

A Merry Band of Marching Bull Elk

In 1909, when John Phillip Sousa played at the Stanley Concert Hall to celebrate the opening of the geo-Georgian style Stanley Hotel, it must have evoked images of a grand parade led by the marching band.

Can you see the brass band instruments, their shining bells sparkling in the sunlight of a beautiful mountain day? Those were the thoughts that flashed through my mind when I recently saw a merry band of marching bull elk. They moved in a tight formation around the curve of Horseshoe Park, the morning sun backlighting the velvet of their glowing antlers.

Seeing them march in a tight formation, I pulled quickly to the side of the road. Rushing with my camera, I was a respectable and safe distance in front of them. Like sparklers on the Fourth of July, the velvet of their antlers glowed while their bodies were a faded shadow in the bright glare of the sun.

I’d taken an image like this once before. At sunrise, a bull moose at Brainard Lake was eating the leaves of willows just as the sun peaked the eastern horizon making his velvet antlers glow. Now, it was the unique image of elk, their antlers edged in sun yellow.

Bull elk are an interesting breed.

Two months a year, they battle for dominance, but the other ten months they’re a good ole boys’ club. They wander the woods together, move en masse into the parks (from the French “parc”), graze like fraternity boys at a buffet, sleep away lazy afternoons in grassy meadows, and return to the willows and aspen for an evening meal.

All the while, their boney antlers from the fall rut have fallen away like new growth of adult teeth pushing the baby teeth out. As the new antlers grow they are surrounded by velvet that feeds the growth with nourishing blood, gaining nearly an inch a day.

That is what I witnessed on the June morning of the elk parade. Depending on their age, the elk antlers ranged from 3x3 stubs to five or six point tines on each side. Surrounded by velvet, they were thick and full, impressive even as they were growing and adding tines.

As I shot images, the elk marched on bold and proud like high stepping trombone players. They moved in line then stepped onto the blacktop passing the Lawn Lake Trailhead where tourists lined the road watching.

From there they continued toward the Alluvial Fan, over the hill created by the 1982 flood debris, passed the picnic grounds, and moved down Endo Valley.

Then they came together to fill the road from edge to edge. High-stepping across the entire blacktop, their hooves made a rhythmic clicking sound on the pavement. Like a real parade, the ranger followed the marching elk in his official law enforcement vehicle as his blue and red lights swirled.

Eventually, reaching the end of the parade route near the gate at Old Fall River Road, the elk dispersed into the foliage. Rewarded with fresh greens, they enjoyed a post-parade snack. As they did, a line of vehicles passed by admiring the marching elk who had given them the celebration of a parade.

Arriving home, I downloaded my many parade photos onto my computer. Then I began the post production process. As I did, I saw many nice images, but the initial images were special. In those images, the elk were shining. Bunched together, the sunlight made their velvet glow.

It had been exciting, rewarding, and beautiful as any parade should be, and the marching elk were a celebration of the season. I have no doubt John Phillip Sousa would have enjoyed the show.

Fawns Wandering the Town

Thu, 13 Jun 2024 20:29:07 GMT

Wilderness Near the Car Wash

My wonderful wife, Carolyn, absolutely loves Estes Park. She fully supports my RMNPhotograph Tours and encourages my trips into the park, up Old Fall River Road, and tromping through the backcountry. What she does not like is a dirty car. Because of my treks into the wilderness, our car is always dirty even by my standards.

So one early June evening, I drove over Moccasin Circle Drive, past the hospital and around to the car wash. I diligently cleaned the car to make us both happy, and returned the same route.

Right before the hospital, I saw them. Newborn fawns, tan and spotted, with their mother standing by the side of the road in a neighborhood where locals live. It’s not unique to see, yet it’s part of what makes Estes Park such a special place.

Stopping my SVU in the middle of the road, I cursed myself for not having my camera with me. I almost always have my camera. But not tonight. As I saw these precious babies, still a bit skittish and wobbly legged, I could only imagine what a beautiful image they would be. But alas, no camera.

Arriving home, I grabbed my camera, and Carolyn asked, “Where are you going?” I answered, “Over by the hospital there were twin fawns…” Before I could finish, she waved me out the door, smiling a bit as she shook her head.

Driving around, I could not find the twins. I knew they were close by, around a house, up a street, or lying in the grass, but I could not spot them. As I drove through the neighborhood, I saw another mule deer doe. She was standing in a small, fenced in yard watching me.

Then I Saw The Fawn

I stopped, appreciating her, my eyes searching the surroundings. Then I saw the fawn. A single baby curled in the grass. Her nose was tucked tight to the ground and one ear stood up as if listening. Only a day or so old, she was both delicate and precious.

Staying in my car, not wanting to disturb her mother, I snapped a few images, capturing the fawn’s innocence. Satisfied that I had a good image, I left the fawn and her mother in peace. As I slowly drove away, the doe returned to feeding, strengthening herself after the challenges of just having given birth.

In Estes Park, we cohabitate with wildlife. We watch out for the babies, stop our cars for passing elk, and even tolerate a mountain lion now and then. Here in town, I could be a wildlife photographer without leaving the community. That might save me a car wash or two, but then again, I’d miss the dirt.

The RMNP Twins of 2023

Fri, 07 Jun 2024 01:39:02 GMT

They were barely visible, hidden in the red willows

along Big Thompson River

They were barely visible, hidden in the red willows along Big Thompson River near the edge of Moraine Park. That morning of May 29, 2023, the twin moose were beginning their third day of life, and their mother was letting them venture to the river for the first time.

At sunrise in Rocky Mountain National Park before my morning RMNPhotographer Tour , I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with several photographer friends, our lenses extended, camera’s clicking as the twins emerged from the willows. The river, high from the previous day’s snow melt, was rushing strong as the baby moose moved wobbly legged along the edge.

Mother moose stood and watched as they ventured a few steps into the water. The first one caught in the current, her legs pulled from under her. Falling, she thrashed fighting to keep her nose above water. Mother moose moved into the stream to break the current causing the water to slow and gather around her. It was just enough for her baby to recover, get her feet under her, and struggle back to solid ground on the river’s edge.

For a week, we watched from the roadside, capturing images of the two cinnamon phase babies. The twins began to fill out just a bit, always under the watchful eye of their mother. As they reached one week old, mother moose allowed them to wander from the willows into more open areas. With such freedom, the twins would romp, chasing each other, jumping over fallen trees, stumbling sideways then running strong, returning to their mother where they would nurse together.

Then, on the morning of June 4, our hearts were disappointed as we stood with our cameras at our sides realizing the moose had moved on. Strong enough, mother moose had taken the twins away from the swift running river into the forest. It had been a treasure she had given us, one week of watching her babies from wobbly legged newborns to week old youngsters running and playing among the pines.

One week later on June 11, I was with guests on a RMNPhotographer Tour taking sunrise photos at Sprague Lake. The morning was bright with the yellow sun peeking over the front range to turn the hints of clouds a reddish hue, and then another gift was given. Standing in the middle of the lake was a moose cow feeding on the submerged grasses. In the sunrise, she was a silhouette as her head lifted, water rained down around her, soft grasses hanging from her mouth.

Then, when the morning brightened, suddenly she turned thrashing through the water toward the opposite edge of Sprague Lake. A couple walking the trail along that side stopped, frozen in place. The cow splashed into the tall grass as two small bodies stood to greet her.

My heart leapt as I said, “The twins.”

With great joy, I described to our RMNPhotographer guests the twin's first week of life, and how, over the past week, they had moved the four miles from Moraine Park to Sprague Lake. Walking along the trail around the lake, we watched them. The twins were fuller, almost thick, looking healthy with their reddish color. As we rounded the lake, we could see mother moose leading them back into the waters for all the feed.

It was another gift, the twins alive and doing well in a wilderness that could sometimes be unforgiving. While I shot their family portraits, as if magic, more of my photographer friends began to arrive. Within a few minutes, I was surrounded by familiar faces all capturing images of the twins. Cameras whirled with a slight clicking sound as we captured the beauty of the moment.

For over an hour, mother moose shared her babies with us. For my RMNPhotographer guests, it was a special event they would never forget. The moose calves played in the water, mother moose glancing back to watch over them. They danced and ran, nuzzled their noses together, and watched with curiosity at the many people watching them. So precious, so special.

Many visit RMNP in hopes of seeing their first moose. Some are disappointed as there are only about three-hundred in the park. Others might spot the dark body of a bull moose walking along the distant edge of a massive meadow. A lucky few have a “moose experience.” As “moose experiences” go, mother moose and her twins gave us an incredible one.

During the next week, I saw them three more times at Sprague Lake, and two weeks later, I happened upon them twice as I hiked a trail about a half-mile from the lake. Then, as had happened at the end of their first week of life, they disappeared into the forest.

Two months later, they appeared once again. Having been sighted at Lily Lake, they had moved from there back to Sprague Lake. The cuteness of the cinnamon colors had begun to fade and their size had tripled. Nearing mother moose’s dark brown/gray coloring, they had begun to look like miniature adult moose.

So happy to see them, I took a few photos, but mostly I sat and watched. The twins fed on the green summer grasses, waded in the shallow waters of the lake, and wandered further from mother moose, having grown more independent. Periodically, they played in the waters like the teenagers they were only to return to their mother.

The twins were a gift of the summer of 2023. Mother moose let us photograph them. She was a patient yet protective mother. The twins will remain with their mother for one year. If mother moose is pregnant again, she will drive them off in the spring having raised them to independence. If she’s not pregnant, they may stay with her throughout the summer before moving off on their own.

Either way, on our RMNPhotographer Tours I will be watching for mother moose and her twins, hoping to see them one last time, to photograph them together one more time before the twins move off into the forest as independent moose.

Grizzlies of the Yellowstone Ecosystem

Thu, 30 May 2024 19:48:59 GMT

A completely different story then planned

This is a completely different story then I had planned on. During last week’s RMNPhotographer’s Yellowstone/Teton adventure, I had hoped to see, for the third time, the famous grizzly mother bear 399, this time with her yearling cub, Spirit. She had made history a year before emerging from her den for her twenty-eighth year with her eighteenth cub.

We had been encouraged while photographing several grizzly bears in Yellowstone including Beryl with her two yearling cubs and Obsidian with her three yearlings. During the week, I had reports from friends that 399 and Spirit had been in Grand Teton National Park’s Pilgrim Creek area. She’d fed and posed for visitors on different days, leaving observers thrilled with the experience. I wanted that too.

On Sunday, May 19th, events began to change expectations.

In my former life as a school superintendent, I had met many “mama bears.” I had great respect as they supported their child’s needs, sometimes defending their questionable behavior. At times, “mama bears” could be fierce. While my respect was strong, I have to admit that there was a time or two in meetings when “mama bears” were on the attack, an appreciation for bear spray crossed my mind. Such was the case this past week in the Tetons.

First, Shayne Patrick Burke, 35, of Massachusetts was hiking on Signal Mountain when he frightened a young grizzly bear. When that bear ran down the hill away from him, the mother grizzly bear was alerted charging up the hill to protect her cub.

Shayne was attacked and repeatedly bitten in the back by the protective mother. He managed to get his bear spray out, but the attack was vicious. He covered his neck, the bear spray in his hand, trying to protect himself when she went for the kill bite. As the mother grizzly tried to bite the back of Shayne’s neck, she bit into the can of bear spray. The explosion of spray sent the bear running, saving Shayne’s life.

As reported on May 24th in the Cowboy State Daily, Shayne advocated for the grizzly bear protecting her cub. ““The second thing I said to the park rangers was, ‘Please don’t kill the bear,’” he wrote. “She was defending her cub.” Burke supported the decision by the National Park Service not to euthanize the bear.

Bruno is the dominant male grizzly in the Tetons

Second, while 399 had recently been seen, it appeared she had left the area. Why? Well…Bruno had come into Pilgrim Creek and Willow Flats. Bruno is the dominant male grizzly in the Tetons. He is believed to be the father of several of 399’s cubs including the quads born in 2020.

One reason 399 is so famous is her habit of bringing her cubs around the roads where people are often present. This is likely a protective strategy because males, like Bruno, avoid the crowds of people. Keeping her cub away from Bruno may be saving his life.

Male grizzly bears have been known to kill COYs (Cubs of the Year) and yearlings as a reproductive strategy. Females who lose cubs quickly re-enter oestrus. This behavior, known as infanticide, is the killing of dependent offspring so females will be able to mate again. It is likely a component of male grizzly reproductive success. (Nature Conservation 25: 55-75. February 23, 2018).

So with Bruno around, 399 appeared to have left the area to protect her cubs.

While I didn’t see 399, I heard these stories of mama bears being fierce protectors of their young. Like the “mama bear” of my professional experience, one had attacked, protecting her young. The other, 399, had left the area where danger might be present.

Like Shayne, you have to appreciate the mothering instincts of protection and flight. Each of these mama bear’s yearlings may grow to be the next 399 or Bruno. Spirit may be the next famous bear of the Yellowstone Ecosystem.

And if I am lucky enough to photograph grizzly bears again, I will be extremely cautious, remembering the protective nature of the mother bear. I know well that in this scary and sometimes dangerous world of nature, “mama bears” are incredibly protective of their young.

Serengeti of North America

Fri, 24 May 2024 12:16:54 GMT

On Safari in North America - The Yellowstone Ecosystem

The Serengeti of North America is what it’s been called. In the National Geographic article on October 6, 2015, Avery Stonich described the Yellowstone Ecosystem as a Safari in North America that “packs in more wildlife than anywhere else in the lower 48 states.”

Rocky Mountain National Park highlights the elk rut along with moose, bighorn sheep, and deer as the predominant large wild animals. It’s incredible, but Yellowstone and the Tetons offer a significantly more diverse wildlife photography opportunity including the famous mother grizzly bear 399 and her yearling cub, Spirit.

This past weekend, RMNPhotographer was in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons on a wildlife photography quest. Of course, we wanted to capture grizzly bear images, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Let me describe one day in Yellowstone.

With a five am departure from Gardiner, we headed for sunrise at Lamar Valley. Arriving, we immediately saw two different grizzly bears feeding off in the distance. When one began running toward the road, from our SUV our cameras went into action.

Just down the road, a herd of seventy-five bison moved along the meadow. “Red dog” bison calves were tucked in close to their mother’s side, a vision of what once must have been the wild west of a century before. Moving among them was a stray antelope, like a good neighbor passing by.

Just past Pebble Creek, a cow moose grazed on the side of a hill, a special moment on one traveler's wish list during his Yellowstone adventure. This is where we also saw a red fox. Scurrying along the hillside, he would stop and look our way, posing for a photo as he did.

Returning through the splendor of Lamar Valley, we passed deer and elk grazing on the hillside.
Three bighorn ewes laid under a pine tree watching tourists pass by. We stopped to look for the mysterious and elusive Junction Butte gray wolf pack. A kind man let us look through his spotting scope at a den 1.1 miles across the valley, but no wolves were present.

Near Tower/Roosevelt intersection, a mother coyote was moving her four pups from their current den to a new one. One at a time, she would clutch them in her mouth. As she did, the pup would go limp, and the coyote would prance up and over the hill to their new home.

Just before Dunraven Pass, a black bear grazed at the base of a pine tree. As she did, her COY (Cub of the Year) played, scurrying up and down the trees like a kid on a jungle gym.

Driving on through Hayden Valley, we saw a bald eagle in flight, the sun striking, lighting it’s feathers as it turned in the breeze. Sandhill cranes fed in small marshes, trumpeter swans floated gently on blue waters, and ravens searched for food to scavenge.

A Gaggle of Cars - A Sure Sign of a Bear

Driving through the afternoon, all was quiet until we saw the gaggle of cars, one on top of the other. Near Swan Lake Flats, it was a sure sign of a bear. We squeezed into a spot off the shoulder, and headed for the group of photographers, their zoom and prime lenses all pointed in the same direction. There we ran into photographer friends, some old, some new, and a few from the Estes Park area.

Moments later, there was movement from across the meadow where our friends pointed toward a small cluster of trees. Our cameras up, we watched a grizzly bear sow, large chested, round faced, and bulky in the biceps appeared from behind the tree. Following were two yearling cubs.

The magic of Yellowstone was happening before me. I had my prime 600 lens with a 1.4 extender pointed in their direction. The large lens pulled the bears in tight and clear. The grizzly bears scraped the ground for food. It was a two hour feast for the bears, and a magnificent experience verifying Yellowstone as the Serengeti of North America.

The excitement was even greater that evening as I scrolled through the 1,338 images I had captured that day. Most exciting were the grizzly images, and the bold yet gentle mothering of a magnificent creature that represents the Safari in North America. Like the lion of the Serengeti, the grizzly bear is king of the Yellowstone jungle.

And I thought about traveling on to Teton National Park, the southern edge of the Yellowstone Ecosystem. There we hoped to highlight our safari and see the most famous grizzly of all. The excitement of that possibility rushed through me. Would 399 and her yearling cub, Spirit, grace us with their presence?

The Legend of 399

Thu, 16 May 2024 12:30:06 GMT

The Most Famous Mother Grizzly Bear

in the Yellowstone Ecosystem.

I first saw her in 2021. She was a twenty-five year old mother of four, quads this time. All together, she’d had seventeen cubs including three sets of triplets before the quads (Grizzly 399 Project). They called her by her research number, 399, and she was the most famous mother grizzly bear in the Yellowstone Ecosystem.

399 made history in 2023. At age twenty-seven, she emerged from her den with a single cub making her the oldest grizzly known to have given birth in the Yellowstone Ecosystem. On May 18, RMNPhotographer photographed 399 and her single cub, Spirit. She was bold, powerful, proud, and protective.

On May 17, 2024, RMNPhotographer leaves from Estes Park again for Yellowstone and the Tetons. We choose that date because grizzlies with COYs (Cubs of the Year) typically emerge from their dens around the middle of May. So will we see grizzly mothers and their cubs? That is our hope.

The exciting news and something to anticipate…On Sunday, April 21, 399 was spotted having emerged from hibernation for her twenty-eighth year with her yearling cub, Spirit, by her side.

Grizzly bears have long been gone from Colorado, the last one killed in 1979, so to see one in Wyoming is a special experience. I remember that day in 2021 when I told my wife, Carolyn, that to see 399 and her quad cubs would be a lifetime experience.

We had just arrived in the Tetons, driving down from Yellowstone. Just beyond Willow Flats we were crossing the Jackson Lake Dam when I looked across the Snake River. On the opposite side were five large brown spots. I looked again, focusing, making sure my eyes were seeing what I was seeing. Thrilled, the words burst from me. “I think that’s her.”

Quickly, we turned around and headed back to the parking area on the other side of the river. That’s when I knew it was 399 and her quads. There were at least a hundred photographers, cameras mounted on tripods holding 600 mm lenses with 2x multipliers pulling the bears into full frame.

It was raining, and we backed the SUV into a space. We popped the hatch and used it as a giant umbrella. Standing under it, I set up my own tripod as Carolyn sat in the back end. We both stayed fairly dry as my camera began to whirl. For an hour the rain came down, 399 and her four cubs fed on the opposite river bank, and I captured pictures.

As so many other photographers have experienced, that day was special. Not only was I seeing 399 and her cubs, I was seeing the regeneration of grizzly bears in the Yellowstone Eco-System. That day I saw our great effort to share the land with nature’s animals instead of taking them from it, and capture it only as our own. And it was amazing to see.

399 Emerged for Her Twenty-eighth Year

Now, on May 17, 2024, I am heading out with another group of Estes area friends to Yellowstone and the Tetons. Will we get photos of grizzlies? That is the goal, and likely we will capture some images along with black bear. Hopefully, we will photograph some with COYs, those tiny adorable cubs. Along the way there will be bison with their “red dog” babies, scraggly moose losing their winter coat, and elk with fresh hints of velvet antlers. Maybe they’ll even be a gray wolf running over the distant hillside.

And, if we are lucky, when we reach the Tetons there will be 399 and her year old cub. Spirit is said to be a massive, healthy cub, the benefit of being a single cub. Will 399 and Spirit do me the honor of posing for a photograph, allowing me to capture their magnificence?.

As RMNPhotographer heads for Yellowstone and the Tetons, I have no idea. I do know her return has brought great joy to many who have admired her over her amazing lifetime. To see the legend a third time and appreciate 399’s legacy of motherhood, unequaled by any other bear, would be a privilege.

Whether I am honored a third time or not, 399 is a legend who has given us a warmth in our hearts and bestowed upon many photographers incredible grizzly bear images that before her, they had only dreamed of.

Moose in Colorado

Fri, 10 May 2024 00:17:40 GMT

Introduction of Moose in Colorado

My first moose encounter was in the early 1980s. I’d hiked to Big Meadow near Kawuneeche Valley, and came face-to-face with a bull moose along the trail. Terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, I stepped behind a tree as the moose passed by an arms length away.

Moose were hard to find then. Even twenty years ago, moose were seldom spotted in Colorado. Prior to 1978, the only moose were a few strays that had wandered down from Wyoming. Then in 1978, the Colorado Parks and Wildlife began a moose introduction program to establish a stable population in the state.

In 1978, twelve moose from Utah were introduced and another twelve in 1979 from Wyoming in the North Park area east of Walden. This early population began to reproduce quickly, and in 1987, an additional twelve from Wyoming were added to the population. Walden is now recognized as “The Moose Capital of Colorado.”

The introduction of moose proved so successful, in 1991 and 1992 approximately one-hundred moose from Wyoming, Utah and North Park were released near Creed in southern Colorado. Since that time, in the mountain habitat, moose have expanded their range in the Colorado mountains. Today, there are over 3,000 moose in Colorado.

Facts about Colorado’s Moose

Colorado’s moose are Shiras moose, the smallest subspecies of moose. Still, they are Colorado’s largest game animal. Cow moose weigh up to 800 lbs while the bulls can reach 1,200 lbs and stand six feet tall at the shoulder.

The name moose is from the Algonquin Indians meaning “eater of twigs.” Moose will reach to the tree branches, wrapping them in their mouth, then pull their mouth along the branch shredding it of its leaves.

Moose, with their gangly legs and long snout, look awkward, yet they are very agile. Moose run up to 35 mph and are natural swimmers. Moose have no upper front teeth. This allows them to suck in aquatic plants while grazing underwater. Moose can close off their nostrils and dive up to twelve feet giving the ability to graze under water on their favorite food, aquatic plants. While in the water, they slow their respiration rate allowing them to stay submerged for long lengths of time.

Only the male moose, the bulls, grow antlers. Antlers are shed annually (versus horns, i.e. bighorn sheep, which are permanent). Bull moose grow flattened, palmated antlers with points around the edge, reaching up to 5 feet wide in larger and older bulls and weighing up to 60 lbs.

From April through July, the antlers regrow with a velvet covering. This provides nutrients and blood to the antlers for growth. Once the antlers stop growing, the velvet begins to dry and is shed leaving bony, hard, and pointed antlers.

Mating and Breeding

Mid-September through October is the breeding season, or rut, for moose. Bull moose set up territories for breeding, attracting cows with a resonating low grunting sound. Aggressive during the breeding season, both cows and bulls can become agitated. Bulls, who have antlers, often fight head-to-head to determine who is the dominant bull.

Single and twin births are common in late May and early June. Rarely, triplets can be born. The young will stay with their mother through the first year, and during the second summer will be pushed out by their mother.

Moose can live up to twenty years in the wild and have expanded their range throughout Rocky Mountain National Park. Today, it is not unusual to see moose throughout the park, grazing along the roads, feeding in the lakes, and wandering at higher altitudes.

All information provide by Colorado Parks & Wildlife and Glacier Guides.

Fresh Snow and a New Moose Calf

Thu, 09 May 2024 17:16:08 GMT

Four Day Old Moose Calf in Fresh Snow

I woke before the sun thinking of the newborn moose calf I’d seen a couple of days before. Today, she turned four days old. Peeking through the curtains, a fresh six inch blanket of spring snow had fallen. It was a perfect May morning in Rocky Mountain National Park.

I reached the meadow at the same time the morning sun did. Boots snug, I headed around the treeline hoping to get on the backside of the meadow. There, I could look across and maybe photograph the mother moose hidden on the opposite side at the edge of the willows.

Traversing the meadow, the stream was small, but my legs are older. Still, I jumped. Then, of course, I fell, held my camera high to save it, plopping into a fresh bed of snow. Recovering, I brushed the soft, white flakes from my pants, and continued on.

Excited, I saw her. On the backside of the meadow in the willows, the cow moose laid in the snow. Extending my 600 mm lens to its full length, I brought her into view. She was beautiful with a hint of red in her gray coat, a contrast to the snow. For ten minutes, I was able to capture images of this beautiful, awkward looking creature.

Then it happened. From the willows, her four day old calf emerged. Still a bit wobbly legged, she walked directly to her mother laying her nose on the cow’s. It was a loving greeting, mother and baby nuzzling together. My camera went into action, and I watched through the viewfinder. It was a precious moment on a blue sky mountain morning.

As if curious, mother and cafe turned to look at the person across the meadow. Knowing I was at a distance not to be of concern, they went on about their morning. The baby continued to nuzzle her mother until finally her mother stood.

The four day old calf began to nurse getting her morning feeding before her mother moved to nibble on the willows herself. Surrounding them was white as if a frame of purity, and I continued to capture images that I knew were special.

The Baby Nursed Between Playful Bouts in the Snow

For so long, I watched mother moose and her baby as they fed. The mother pulling fresh leaves from the willows, the baby nursing between playful bouts in the snow. She would run, dancing a little on young legs, her nose covered with bits of snow. Then she would return to mother, standing close, nursing as needed. All the while, my camera was active.

After forty-five minutes, my heart full and adrenaline settling, I backed into the trees away from the mother and her baby. I trudged through the snow, and around the meadow toward the road. Jumping the stream once more, I was invigorated, feeling strong, and I did not fall. On the road, I walked back down past the willows toward my SUV in the pullout.

Then, I heard a sound from the willows. Stopping, I looked down to see the calf poking her head out in curiosity. My camera up again, she walked from the willows, and I captured more images. My breath held as I could see the remains of her umbilical cord still attached. For a moment, she stopped and watched me as I watched her. Then she turned, moving back into the willows and the safety of her mother.

Standing, my camera hung at my side. So many moose I’d photographed, but never a young life in fresh snow at the moment of a new day. My morning had been special beyond expectation.

Fulfilled, I whispered a thank you to the mother moose for sharing her calf and this experience with me. It had been a morning a photographer dreams of.

Mountain Lion Reveals Itself

Fri, 03 May 2024 20:18:35 GMT

Mountain Lions Live Where

There Are Deer and Elk

Cover Photos by Linda Spangler-Schrag

Last year, I told my wife, “My goal this year is to get a mountain lion picture while on a RMNPhotographer Tour .” Carolyn smiled, responding, “Have you ever seen a mountain lion?” I honestly answered, “No.” She then advised me, “I think you need to re-evaluate your goal.”

On March 11, 2024, Estes Park photographer Linda Spangler-Schrag was out on a shoot driving on the outskirts of Estes when she spotted magpies feeding on an elk carcass. Stopping, her breath must have drawn deep because then she saw her. A mountain lion near its kill.

Linda was able to capture several amazing images of the mountain lion. Since that day, other photographers including Marsha Hobert, Andrew Sanders, Sasha Richmond, Rick Martinez, and Alan Lipkin have captured images of her. All have accomplished my goal, a rare opportunity for them to photograph a mountain lion.

Mountain lions live in and around Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park as there is a strong population of deer and elk to feed on. A few weeks ago, a neighbor’s ring doorbell camera captured one near my house a few blocks from downtown. Yet they are often nocturnal, avoid people, and spend time deep in the rocky areas of the mountains. They are rarely seen, and when they are it is often a fleeting glimpse. So this one living in Estes Park is both special and dangerous.

She is special in that she has a den with three cubs, so she is feeding near the den as her cubs grow to be able to travel and hunt with her. Dangerous for both herself, her cubs, and us. “Attacks on people are rare, but attacks on dogs or cats are becoming more common. The Colorado Division of Wildlife (DOW) policy is very clear when it comes to lions that cause a threat to human safety. They must be destroyed.” (Colorado Parks and Wildlife, 4/5/2024).

I have to be honest. I want to see a mountain lion. The images that others have captured show a beautiful animal, healthy, powerful, and strong. A photo of one in the wild would be a special shot to capture, one that would line my wall along with the famous elk Kahuna, the amazing mother grizzly bear 399, the moose cow and her twins in Sprague Lake, the bison walking snow-covered in Yellowstone, and the black bear and her cubs sharing a tree on Sheep Mountain.

Photos by (L to R): Marsha Hobert, LInda Spangler-Schrag, Linda Spangler-Schrag, and Marsha Hobert.

She’s Chosen a Den Too Close to People

I am a photographer, and I want a picture. So a part of me hopes to capture a shot of her with her three cubs. On the other hand, I want her safe. She’s chosen a den too close to people and one where her cubs might develop an affinity to being around a town, and that is not safe for anyone.

The reality is, I will be terribly disappointed but my heart will be happy if she and her cubs, one night in the dark, disappear from Estes Park. My hope is they move beyond the civilization we call home to their natural habitat far into the backcountry. There they can grow, prosper, and live in harmony with the natural world surrounding them.

And one day, on a backcountry hike or a RMNPhotographer Tour , I hope to look up into a rock formation and see the beauty and grace of a mountain lion lying in the sun. I hope she is at such a distance that neither one of us is a threat to the other. I hope she challenges my biggest zoom lens, but not so much that I can’t capture a “money shot” of such a special creature.

Then with all of my technology, camera, computer and editing software, I will pull the mountain lion closer into the image I’ve captured. With that, she will join my wall of special animals where her photograph will stand as a powerful example of her beauty in the wild.

Things To Do in Estes Park

Mon, 22 Apr 2024 00:16:46 GMT

RMNPhotographer's Comprehenive Guide to

Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park

PLACES TO VISIT IN ESTES PARK AND ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK TOURS WITH RMNPhotographer
WILDLIFE TOURS IN RMNP AND VIEWING IN ESTES PARK
FAMILY-FRIEND AND KID WALKS IN RMNP & ESTES PARK
BEST FAMILY-FRIENDLY HIKING TRAILS IN RMNP
FISHING IN ESTES PARK/RMNP
RESTAURANTS IN ESTES PARK
Coffee Shops
Breakfast/Lunch
Casual Lunch/Dinner
Fine Dining Experience
OTHER “THINGS TO DO IN ESTES PARK AND RMNP”

ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK TOURS WITH RMNPhotographer:
Rocky Mountain National Park Private Guided Tours for your family. RMNPhotographer Tours will guide your family and guests to photograph the wonders of Rocky Mountain National Park with your cell phones and cameras. Capture views of snow-covered mountain vistas and lush green valleys. See alpine lakes, rolling streams, and waterfalls. Your private guide will seek gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose allowing you the time to take the pictures you've dreamed of. Our family tours are in your own vehicle (RMNPhotographer tour guide will drive at your request) to ensure a unique and safe experience for your family and guests. RMNPhotographer Private Guided Tours provides your "timed entry" into Rocky Mountain National Park. (Handicapped Accessible Tours in RMNP)

Mountains To Sky Tour (Half-Day)

With a RMNPhotographer private tour guide, drive to the top of the world on the highest highway in the United States. Look for moose in Sheep Lakes and walk up the Alluvial Fan to Horseshoe Falls. Capture cell phone photos at the 12,183 foot peak of Trail Ridge Road. Make stops to view lakes and meadows frequented by elk and moose. See flowing waterfalls and snow-capped mountain vistas. Stop at the Continental Divide and the Alpine Visitor Center and Gift Shop (11,796 ft.). Through it all we will guide you to spectacular, unforgettable views and accessibility to photograph dynamic wildlife and spectacular scenery on your cell phones and cameras. (Note: July 1-October 1, when open, tour up Old Fall River Road, the original one-way dirt road to the top and travel back down Trail Ridge Road)

Lakes and Meadows Tour (Half-Day)

On this Rocky Mountain National Park tour , your RMNPhotorapher Tour private guide will take you to the majestic views of the lower valley stopping for amazing cell phone and camera photo opportunities. Visit Sheep Lakes where bighorn sheep, dynamic elk, and massive moose frequent. Walk up the Alluvial Fan to Horseshoe Falls. Experience breath-taking views from Many Parks Curve, Moraine Park’s incredible meadow with an amazing backdrop of the Continental Divide, and Sprague Lake, our favorite place in RMNP with Hallets Peak towering in the background. The lower valley tour keeps you at lower altitude while leaving you with personal and photographic memories lasting a lifetime. Enjoy our family-friendly tour in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Our RMNPhotographer Over the TOp Tour guide was phenomenal! He was extremely

knowledgeable and very accommodating. He made what would have been an

enjoyable trip anyway, a trip of a lifetime! Mark - Colorado

Mountain to Sky + Bear Lake Road Tour (¾ Day)

RMNPhotographer Tours has combined the very best of the Mountain to Sky and Lakes and Meadows Tours into this incredible ¾ day Rocky Mountain Naitonal Park Tour. Visit Sheep Lakes , the Alluvial Fan , and Horseshoe Falls where bighorn sheep, dynamic elk, and massive moose frequent. Tour along Trail Ridge Road peaking at 12,183 ft. View eleven miles of spectacular tundra above 11,500 ft. while capturing cell phone and camera photos from the top of the world. Stop at the Continental Divide and the Alpine Visitor Center and Gift Shop (11,796 ft.). Return to tour Bear Lake Road , the most popular area for Rocky Mountain Day Trips. Visit Moraine Park’s incredible meadow with an amazing backdrop of the Continental Divide. Complete the tour with a walk around the beautiful mountain lake of Sprague Lake , our favorite place in RMNP with Hallets Peak towering in the background.

Over the Top Tour (Full-Day)

Travel over the top of the world experiencing a spectacular RMNP Guided Tour from Estes Park to Grand Lake on this RMNPhotographer Tour . Drive the full length of Trail Ridge Road , the highest highway in the United States including eleven miles of spectacular tundra above 11,500 ft. peaking at 12,183 ft.. Through it all, capture cell phone and camera photos from the tundra above treeline. Visit flowing waterfalls, majestic mountain panoramas, the Continental Divide, and stop anywhere we see bighorn sheep, dynamic elk, and massive moose or other wildlife. Through historic Kawuneeche Valley where elk and moose frequent, the tour stops at the quaint mountain village of Grand Lake on the shore of the largest natural lake in Colorado. While visiting this historic village, enjoy lunch (on your own) with a spectacular view. Enjoy the scenic return drive on Trail Ridge Road stopping at a variety of vistas and over looks viewing miles and miles on this RMNP Guided Tour.

Private, Customized Photography Tours

RMNPhotographer guided private photography wildlife tours in RMNP are led by highly skilled, professional photographers who spend extensive time in Rocky Mountain National Park . They know the best times of day, locations for scenic photographs, where specific wildlife frequent, and how to capture the best images. Our private photography wildlife tours in RMNP are specifically designed to give you the best RMNP photographic opportunity. We builld an intinerary entirely around getting you to the right place at the right time, to get the perfect shot you want.

Tours start with the best sunrise in RMNP at Sprague Lake when the sky can be spectacular.
The early morning tundra can be amazing as the sun peaks from the plains radiating across the peaks of the continental divide.
Deer, elk, and moose often wander into the lakes and feed in the meadows during the early morning hours.
RMNPhotographer guides will take you to the locations where you have the best opportunity to photograph specific animals.

WILDLIFE TOURS IN RMNP AND VIEWING IN ESTES PARK:

The wonder of Estes Park lies in the natural beauty that surrounds this majestic mountain village. Cradled on three sides by Rocky Mountain National Park and edged by the national forest on the fourth, Estes is surrounded by protected lands that offer natural habitat to hundreds of animal species. Whether you are RMNP Guided Tour or backpacking deep into the backcountry, you are very likely to encounter some of our wilder residents including bighorn sheep, mule deer, elk, moose, and the occasional bear. Prepare to be awed! ( Visit Estes Park ). Read An Insider’s Guide to Wildlife Viewing in Estes Park .

T he RMNPhotographer Mountain to Sky Tour was very personalized,

filled with breathtaking views and phenomenal wildlife.

We photographed elk, moose, and bighorn sheep.

Drake & Dan - Iowa

TRAIL RIDGE ROAD WILDLIFE LOOP (Open year round): Early morning between 6:00-8:30 or evening between 6:00-8:00 drive the “wildlife loop.” This runs from the Rocky Mountain National Park Fall River Entrance through Horseshoe Park and Endo Valley, up to the Deer Mountain interchange and down to the Beaver Meadows RMNP Entrance (basically from entrance to entrance - you can go either way as both return to Estes Park ). This is where you can often see wildlife including bighorn sheep, mule deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose. You might also seen an occasional black bear on Deer Mountain or along the drive to Endo Valley Picnic Area just past the Alluvial Fan .

BIGHORN SHEEP: Bighorn sheep are often seen in June in RMNP at Horseshoe Park feeding at Sheep Lakes or above the Alluvial Fan . There is a popular pullout for viewing the sheep (It’s also become a favorite place for moose.) In July and August, bighorn are often seen above treeline on Trial Ridge Road especially at Rock Cut . Outside of RMNP, sheep can also be seen in Big Thompson Canyon between Estes Park and the Dam Store at the bottom along Highway 34. During October and November, the bighorn are actively in their mating season and can often be seen along the highway in Big Thompson Canyon .

MULE DEER: Mule deer, named for their oversized ears that resemble a mule's ears, are cousins to the white-tailed deer. Larger in size, they have a black-tipped white tail and white patch on the rump and can weigh anywhere between 100 and 300 pounds. Mule deer are often seen in downtown Estes Park and throughout RMNP . Look for them on the wildlife loop around Deer Mountain and throughout the lower valley.

ELK: Elk can be seen in downtown Estes Park , on the drive to RMNP, and anywhere in RMNP. Throughout the year, elk are in many locations and can often be seen roaming the streets and grassy areas of Estes Park. The best places to find elk are downtown Estes Park, the Estes Park Golf Course , and in Rocky Mountain National Park at Moraine Park, Horseshoe Park, and along the roadways. In the spring and early summer, elk calves are born in the lower elevation around Estes Park and RMNP. In late August and September, the elk return to the lower valley for the mating season (rut). Their favorite mating area is Moraine Park, but they can be seen in many of the meadows on the east side of RMNP including Horseshoe Park. A perfect time to visit Estes Park to see elk is during Elk Fest , typically the last weekend in September.

MOOSE: Moose population has Swelled in RMNP , particularly on the Estes Park side. Moose are often spotted in Horseshoe Park around Sheep Lake and Endo Valley. These is easily reached from the Fall River park entrance. While moose can be seen at any time of the day, the best time to spot them is between 6:30-8:30 am and 5:00-8:00 pm. Sprague Lake is another favorite location to find moose, but they can be seen moving throughout the park.

BLACK BEAR: Only black bear s are known to exist in Rocky Mountain National Park. Its northern cousin, the grizzly bear, is no longer found in Colorado. Black bears make a point to avoid humans, so they are not often seen. Research shows only 30+ adult black bears reside in RMNP. Colorado's total black bear population is estimated by Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) to be between 17,000 to 20,000 bears. During early spring when the bears are feeding after a long winter’s hibernation. During the fall months bears eat and drink nearly nonstop, putting on weight to prepare for winter and hibernation . This process is called hyperphagia . When seen, they are often fleeting moments around Horseshoe Park.

Our RMNPhotographer Private Mountain to Sky Tour Guide had somehow spotted

a moose across the valley in the willows. Standing on Old Fall River Road watching,

he then pointed higher up where a bear was moving over the rocks.

MOUNTAIN LIONS: Mountain lions, also known as pumas, cougars, and panthers, are common in Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). They are the largest predators in the park, with males reaching up to 200 pounds and eight feet in length. Mountain lions are generally calm and quiet, but are elusive and rarely seen. They are opportunistic hunters that primarily eat deer, but also consume coyotes, raccoons, rodents, carcasses, and domestic animals. While not often seen, it was in a rare occurrence in the spring of 2024 when multiple mountain lions were spotted in and around the town of Estes Park . Read RMNPhotographer Brad Manard's blog Mountain Lions Feeding Around Estes Park.

WILDLIFE IN RMNP: RMNP is an active natural area teaming with wildlife. The National Park Service in RMNP offers a comprehensive list of mammals, birds, fish, and other species present in RMNP. To learn more go to: Animals in RMNP on the National Park Service website.

FAMILY-FRIENDLY AND KID WALKS IN RMNP & ESTES PARK

ESTES PARK DOWNTOWN RIVERWALK : Through the downtown behind the south side shops stroll along the Riverwalk all the way to the Estes Park Visitors Center and Lake Estes. Walking along, wandering in and out of shops with a treat in hand is a quintessential mountain town experience. And when there is a river involved? Even better. Both Fall River and the Big Thompson River flow along the backside of Elkhorn Avenue, Estes Park’s main downtown street. The riverwalk is lined with trees, an easy-to-traverse paved path, wall art, paintings by local artists, and the soothing sound of water. Mom and pop shops offer access to their wares from riverwalk entrances. It is cooler on this side of Elkhorn and more musical too as you stroll from shop to shop along Big Thompson River.

LAKE ESTES TRAIL: In town east of the Hwy 34 and 36 intersection on the south side of Hwy 34 is Lake Estes . Surrounding it is an active 4.0 mile walking/biking trail with Long’s Peak and the Continental Divide as a backdrop. Located in the center of Estes Valley, the Lake Estes Trail acts as a central trail hub for an extensive trail network throughout the Estes area and Rocky Mountain National Park. A beautiful area for a casual or fitness activity, the area is teaming with wildlife including elk who are often in the lake or on the golf course. Also watch the skies bald eagles, osprey, and a variety of waterfowl.

ALLUVIAL FAN: The Alluvial Fan is on Endo Valley Road from the turn at Horseshoe Park to Old Fall River Road . This is the rock formation and waterfalls impacted by the July 15, 1982 Lawn Lake Flood . Explore this paved walk in RMNP which is 0.7 mile out-and-back. This historic and beautiful walk is generally considered an easy route. It takes an average of 16 minutes to complete. This is a very popular area for hiking and walking, so you'll likely encounter other people while exploring. The best times to visit this trail are May through October.
SPRAGUE LAKE LOOP: On Bear Lake Road just past the shuttle parking area halfway to Bear Lake is Sprague Lake . Sprague Lake is a beautiful setting with an incredible view of Hallett's Peak and the Continental Divide . There is a .75 mile easy, handicapped accessible walking path around the lake known for its wildlife and spectacular views. Watch for elk and moose along with waterfowl and raptors around the lake. It is also a great place to picnic with a large picnic area and in-ground grills. Pick-up lunch at a sandwich shop or the Country Market in Estes Park or bring a small bag of charcoal and food to create your own picnic. There are plenty of picnic tables near the Sprague Lake parking area or on the drive along Bear Lake Road between Moraine Park and Sprague Lake.

On our RMNPhotographer Lakes and Meadows Tour, Sprague Lake was a perfect

walk for our children to experience incredible views and a mountain lake.

BEAR LAKE LOOP: Bear Lake is a dynamic area but very busy as it is a trailhead for many of the most amazing hikes in RMNP. Bear Lake has a beautiful walk around it with great views of Hallett's Peak , Long's Peak , and the Continental Divide . A 0.7 mile walk, the elevation gain is only 79 ft. Watch for wildlife along the trail and stop in many locations as the spectacular views change as you circle the lake. Rocky Mountain National Park offers shuttle service to all locations along Bear Lake Road. Shuttle Park is located halfway up Bear Lake Road. For more information, please visit Bear Lake Shuttle Service .

LILY LAKE LOOP: Lily Lake Loop is an 0.8 mile level walk with fabulous views and activities for visitors of all abilities! Follow the trail around the lake and surrounding wetlands. Generally considered an easy route, it takes an average of 16 minutes to complete. Take in views of Long's Peak and Meeker Mountain , as well as the Twin Sister's Peaks to the southeast. There are benches and picnic tables around the lake for those who wish to picnic and relax. This is a very popular area for birding, fishing, and hiking, so you'll likely encounter other people while exploring. To reach the trailhead from Estes Park, drive 6.3 miles south on Colorado Highway 7 to the Lily Lake parking area. The trail is open year-round and is beautiful to visit anytime.

BEST FAMILY-FRIENDLY HIKING TRAILS IN RMNP

COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF HIKES IN RMNP: Rocky Mountain National Park has 355 miles of hiking trails. They range from flat lakeside strolls to steep mountain peak climbs. If you are new to the park consult with rangers at the RMNP Visitor Centers and backcountry office. They can provide advice about trails which are appropriate to different fitness and experience levels. Excellent hiking resources include National Park Service Suggested Hikes in RMNP , AllTrails Best Hiking Trials in RMNP, Rocky Mountain Hiking Trails, and Trail Conditions in RMNP. As you plan your hike, keep in mind that park elevations range from 7,500 to over 12,000 feet. Even very fit individuals coming from lower elevations may experience altitude problems. Symptoms include headaches, shortness of breath, insomnia and rapid heartbeat. After a few days your body will have made some adjustments to higher elevations, but to minimize symptoms drink plenty of fluids, avoid alcohol, don't skip meals, and get plenty of rest.

Rocky Mountain National Park has 355 miles of hiking trails ranging from flat lakeside

strolls to steep mountain peak climbs, providing for all fitness levels.

SUGGESTED HIKES INCLUDE:

BEAR, NYMPH, DREAM, AND EMERALD LAKE: This scenic hiking trail through the Tyndall Gorge to Emerald Lake is an extremely popular route in Rocky Mountain National Park. Starting from the Bear Lake Trailhead , hikers will walk through pine forests, past pristine views, to Nymph Lake , Dream Lake , and Emerald Lake . Generally considered a moderately challenging route, this 3.2 mile out-and-back trail takes an average of 1.5 to 2 hours to complete. This is a very popular area, so you'll likely encounter other people while exploring. The trail is open year-round and is beautiful to visit anytime. Note: You can stop at any of the lakes and turn around from there choosing the length and difficulty of the hike.
Bear Lake Trailhead : The Trailhead.
Nymph Lake : 1.0 miles out-and-back
Dream Lake : 2.0 miles out-and-back (best lake and turnaround - See photo below of Dream Lake)
Emerald Lake : 3.2 miles out-and-back

Parking is limited at this popular trailhead. Rocky Mountain National Park offers shuttle service to this location. For more information, please visit Bear Lake Shuttle Service .

ALBERTA FALLS AND MILLS LAKE: You'll pass Alberta Falls , a favorite hiking destination for many families, and Glacier Falls before reaching Mills Lake . The boulders around the lake are great spots to take a break or have a snack. Generally considered a moderately challenging route, it takes an average of 2.5 hours to complete. This is a very popular area, so you'll likely encounter other people while exploring. The best times to visit this trail are May through October.

Alberta Falls :

From Glacier Gorge Trailhead - 1.6 miles out-and-back
From Bear Lake Trailhead - 2.5 miles out-and-back

Mills Lake

From Glacier Gorge Trailhead - 5.2 miles out-and-back
From Bear Lake Trailhead - 6.1 miles out-and-back

Parking is limited at this popular trailhead. Rocky Mountain National Park offers shuttle service to this location. For more

information, please visit Bear Lake Shuttle Service .

FISHING IN ESTES PARK/RMNP

FISHING IN ESTES PARK/RMNP : Peak fishing in Rocky Mountain National Park takes place from mid-June through mid-October. Brown, brook, and rainbow trout swim the waters, and so do greenback cutthroats. Colorado River cutthroats are an indigenous trout species that the park has helped restore and propagate since 1975. In Estes Park there is great fishing in Lake Estes and the Big Thompson River. There are many great locations for fly fishing in RMNP . Read more at Visit Estes Park or contact Kirks Fly Shop or Estes Angler . A valid Colorado fishing license is required for all persons 16 years of age or older to fish.

RESTAURANTS IN ESTES PARK

COFFEE SHOPS

COFFEE ON THE ROCKS

510 Moraine Avenue, Estes Park, CO

970-586-5181
7:00 am - 4:00 pm
Ranked #4 of 112 on TripAdvisor

Breakfast/Brunch – Great Coffee, Pastries, and Sandwiches. Sit by the pond, enjoy a coffee or a glass of wine.

Where RMNPhotographer Tours meets our guests.

The intimacy of Coffee on the Rock, sitting by the pond watching ducks and geese,

is only exceeded by their rich, flagrant, and flavorful beverages.

INKWELL AND BREW

In downtown Estes Park at 150 E Elkhorn Avenue, Estes Park, CO

info@inkwellbrew.com
7:00 am - 6:00 pm

Artisan shop for fountain pens, ink, fine paper & other writing supplies with craft coffee drinks. The coffee bar includes traditional cappuccino, cortado, pour-over coffee, and Cold brewed coffee along with loose leaf tea and an assortment of baked goods and sandwiches.

KIND COFFEE

470 East Elkhorn Ave., Estes Park, CO

970-586-5206
info@kindcoffee.com
6:30 am - 4:00 pm

In downtown Estes Park on the Riverwalk, a quaint café where the local community meets for the coffee and conversation. Kind Coffee is a meeting place where coffee connoisseurs and novices alike can experience fine quality certified organic, shade-grown coffees while sitting along the Riverwalk and bank of the Big Thompson River.

STARBUCKS

37 Big Thompson Ave, Estes Park, CO

970-586-1600
5:00 am - 8:00 pm

Starbucks is an American company that operates the largest coffeehouse chain and one of the most recognizable brands in the world.

RAVEN ROAST COFFEE LOUNGE

In downtown Estes Park at 157 West Elkhorn Ave, Old Church Shops Mall, Estes Park, CO

970-586-4326
8:00 am - 5:00 pm

Raven's Roast Coffee Lounge is a convenient location to enjoy coffee, tea, hot cocoa, tasty treats and conversation!

ZIGGI'S COFFEE

519 South Saint Vrain Avenue, Estes Park, CO

303-682-5120
6:00 am - 4:00 pm (Closed Sunday)

Ziggi's Coffee is dedicated to being the best part of your day by serving a superior and convenient cup of coffee with service you can rely on.

BREAKFAST/LUNCH

BIG HORN RESTAURANT

401 W. Avenue, Estes Park, CO 80517

970-586-2792
7:00 am - 2:00 pm (Open until 7:30 pm on Thur, Fri, Sat)

A family-oriented and family-run restaurant situated at the west end of downtown Estes Park, Colorado. Know for fantastic food and large portions.

CINNAMON'S BAKERY

920 W. Elkhorn Avenue. Estes Park, CO

970-480-1501
7:30 - 10:00 am (Summer Hours)

Open since 2016, Cinnamons Bakery is a local favorite. Enjoy a mouth-watering, handmade cinnamon roll perfected from a secret family recipe. Open 7:30-10:00 am, Cinnamons usually sells out well before 10:00 am. Call to place a pre-order.

DONUT HAUS

860 Moraine Ave, Estes Park, CO (In Sinclair Quick Shop)

970-586-2988
6:00 - 11:30 am
#1 of 12 Desserts Shops in Estes Park on TripAdvisor

A variety of donuts made fresh daily.

EGG OF ESTES

393 E. Elkhorn Ave., Estes Park, CO

970-586-1173
6:00 am - 2:00 pm

Over Easy. Poached. Scrambled. Egg of Estes will cook your eggs however you like, but days at The Egg are always Sunnyside Up! Meeting some of the good eggs that will make your visit truly special.

MEADOW MOUNTAIN CAFE

A twenty minute drive away in Allenspark, CO down Highway 7 at 441 CO-7 Business.

303-747-2541 (Call before to make sure they are open)
8:00 am - 2:00 pm - Open Friday through Monday

For a small town, no hurry, great food, unique restaurant, the Meadow Mountain Cafe fits the bill. This is a small family restaurant their mother left to her kids. Jenny is the waitress, her brother is the cook, and dad helps out when he can. Meadow Mountain Cafe is busy in the summer, so the wait can be long. If you go, plan on time to visit and enjoy family as you look forward to a wonderful breakfast.

MOUNTAIN HOME CAFE

457 E Wonderview Ave in Stanley Village, Estes Park, CO

9 70-586-6624
7:00 am - 2:30 pm

For years, Mountain Home Cafe has been serving breakfast and lunch in Estes Park. It is family owned and operated. A favorite for locals & visitors!

NOTCHTOP BAKERY AND CAFE

459 E Wonderview Avenue in Stanley Village, Estes Park, CO

970-586-0272
7:00 am - 3:00 pm

Comfy standby offering large breakfast & lunch menus with a focus on local & organic ingredients and an amazing bakery. A local favorite.

CASUAL LUNCH/DINNER

ANTONIOS PIZZA

#1 NY Pizzeria in the State of Colorado per The Washington Post

1560 Big Thompson Avenue, Estes Park, CO

970-586-7275
12:00 - 8:00 pm (Closed Sunday and Monday)

Woodfired New York Style Pizza made by a real New Yorker. Breaking news 3/20/24: Antonios takes second place (OUT OF 50) in the world’s best cheese slice at the International Pizza Expo.

CLAIRE'S RESTAURANT

225 Park Lane, Estes Park, CO

970-586-9564
11:00 am - 7:00 pm

Good food in downtown Estes on the backside of Bond Park. The views can’t be beat, and the menu and full bar have something for everyone. Every meal at Claire’s is created from locally sourced food and is made to order.

ED'S CANTINA

390 E Elkhorn Ave, Estes Park, CO

970-586-2919
11:30 am - 8:30 pm

Vibrant, locally owned, sustainable cafe serving up traditional Mexican eats plus margaritas & beer.

THE GRUBSTEAK

134 W. Elkhorn Avenue, Downtown Estes Park, CO

970-586-8838
11:00 am - 8:30 pm

The front of the Grubsteak is an old restaurant, but the back half has been completely redone. There is a great bar and grill area with indoor and outdoor seating. They serve a full menu and local beers. The burgers include beef, elk, buffalo, and yak meat options. Good food in a casual setting.

HUNTERS CHOPHOUSE

Old Fashioned Mountain Fare! Hunters Chophouse Wine Program

is recognized by Wine Spectator with its Award of Excellence!

1690 Big Thompson Avenue, Estes Park, Colorado

970-586-6962
4:00 - 8:00 pm

Casual steakhouse serving up beef, poultry & elk dishes in airy, hunting-lodge-style surrounds.

SMOKIN' DAVE'S BBQ & TAP HOUSE

820 Moraine Avenue, Estes Park, CO

970-577-7427
11:00 am - 8:00 pm

A legendary and award-winning BBQ concept. The BBQ sauce is signature.

SWEET BASILICO ITALIAN RESTAURANT

430 Prospect Village Dr., Estes Park, Colorado

970-586-3899
4:00 - 9:00 pm (Closed Monday)

Great Italian at Reasonable Prices.

TRAILHEAD RESTAURANT

3450 Fall River Rd, Estes Park, CO at the RMNP Gateway Fall River Visitor Center

970-577-0043
9:00 am - 4:00 pm

Nice atmosphere and good food with a view. Not as busy as downtown restaurants.

YOU NEED PIE

509 Big Thompson Avenue in Lower Stanley Village, Estes Park, CO

970-577-7437
8:00 am - 8:00 pm

Mellow bakery & eatery known for award-winning pies & American comfort classic foods in a casual setup.

THE WAPITI COLORADO PUB

Have you heard of the Colorado 100? The Wapiti Pub carries the

largest selection of all-Colorado beers in the state.

1350 Fall River Road, Estes Park, CO

970-586-5056
11:30 am - 8:00 pm (Closed Wednesday)

The award-winning Wapiti Colorado Pub celebrates all things Colorado! From the amazing views to the glorious foods grown and raised locally plus the amazing range of craft and micro brewed beers and wines. Wapiti is celebrated for juicy burgers, pub-style sandwiches, crisp salads, exotic games meats, and so much more.

WILD ROSE RESTAURANT

157 W Elkhorn Avenue in downtown Estes Park, CO

970-586-2806
11:00 am - 9:00 pm

Gourmet American & European cuisine served for lunch & dinner in a casual setting with a full bar.

FINE DINING EXPERIENCE

The Rock Inn Mountain Tavern - Where locals go for great food,

a fun atmosphere, and wonderful service.

ROCK INN MOUNTAIN TAVERN

1675 Highway 66, Estes Park, CO

970-586-4116
4:00 - 8:00 pm

The Rock Inn Mountain Tavern is a woodsy gathering place with live music & outdoor seats serving carefully sourced American eats. From hamburgers to steaks with specialty meals on an outstanding menu, eat in a historic mountain environment. Great place for a casual, upscale, but not too expensive dinner with exceptional service. A local favorite for all the right reasons, you won’t be disappointed.

Built in 1937, The Rock Inn has a rich history as the go-to spot for locals with a

lively atmosphere, delicious food, and amazing live music. The menu is an ever-evolving

blend of hand-crafted, hearty comfort food with a focus on health and sustainability.

BIRD AND JIMS

915 Moraine Ave, Estes Park, CO

970-586-9832
11:00 am - 8:00 pm

Modern mountain dining from an ingredient-driven kitchen.

TWIN OWLS STEAKHOUSE

3110 S St Vrain Avenue, Estes Park, CO in Taharaa Mountain Lodge

970-586-9344
5:00 - 8:00 pm

High end menu and atmosphere with wonderful views. Reservations are recommended.

THE INN OF GLEN HAVEN

7468 County Rd 43, Glen Haven, CO

(970) 586-4696 (Reservations recommended)

Visit their website at The Inn of Glen Haven Restaurant for the season schedule. A short, beautiful 13 minutes drive down Devil’s Gulch Road, The Inn of Glen Haven is a small but elegant step back into history. The The Inn of Glen Haven Restaurant offers diverse dishes that draw inspiration from Old England. Each dish showcases the highest quality steaks and the freshest fish available. Dine in complete elegance and enjoy superior service. The Inn of Glen Haven has a deep appreciation for the finest in dining.

OTHER “THINGS TO DO IN ESTES PARK AND RMNP”

ESTES PARK COMMUNITY (FITNESS) CENTE R: Estes Park’s Community Center provides a variety of health conscious activities including gym, cardio, and weight training; leisure and lap pools, and fitness classes. Learn more at the Estes Park Community Center website.

ESTES PARK MUSEUM: The Estes Park Museum connects the beautiful natural setting to the growth and development of this unique mountain community. In the main gallery, explore historic images and artifacts that tell the story of Estes Park.

GOLF COURSES: Estes Park hosts two golf courses, one nine hole and one eighteen hole plus disc golf. Learn more at Estes Park Golf Courses.

HORSEBACK RIDING: A popular activity while visiting Estes Park, there are several excellent stables including National Park Gateway Stables, Sombrero Stables , Meeker Park Lodge Stables , or for a comprehensive list got to Visit Estes Park.

LAKE ESTES MARINA: For a variety of water activities including boat, canoe, etc. rental contact the Lake Estes Marina.

MACGREGOR RANCH AND MUSEUM: Founded in 1873, the ranch has remained a showplace of early life among settlers and homesteaders in Colorado Territory. Just passing beneath the entrance gate inspires a fondness for simpler times as Percheron draft horses and ranch hands can be seen working the hay meadow alongside grazing Black Angus cattle. The main ranch house has been transformed into our museum, perfect for children's groups and summer visitors to learn more about this rugged and rewarding way of life. Learn more about the museum at MacGregor Ranch Museum .

MINI GOLF & RIDE A KART: For a variety of family fun activities including go-karts, mini golf, bumper cars, trampolines, arcade, and other activities.

MUSIC IN THE PARK: Cowboy Brad Fitch brings his popular summer Cowboy Singalongs to Bond Park in downtown Estes Park on most summer Sunday, Monday, and/or Tuesday evenings at 7pm. For a full list of Brad Fitch performances visit Brad Fitch's Music Calendar . For a list of other music events in Estes Park, go to the Estes Park Summer Concerts and Estes Park Live Music Calendar.

Brad Fitch has been delighting visitors to Rocky Mountain National Park

by performing the songs of John Denver (and many others) for nearly

three decades. (National Public Radio)

MUSTANG MOUNTAIN COASTER: Grip the handles tightly as you race through the ponderosa pines and feel the rocky mountain wind rush past you as you traverse down the mountainside on the Mustang Mountain Coaster.

ROCK CLIMBING: Estes Park and the surrounding area is a rock climbing mecca. To learn more visit Estes Park Rock Climbing , Colorado Mountain School , and Estes Park Mountain Shop ,

THE STANLEY HOTEL: Visit the original Stanley Hotel featuring historic hotel rooms offering a unique experience and classically styled furnishings. Opened in 1909, it was designed and built by Freelan Oscar (F.O.) Stanley who, along with his brother, invented the steam-powered “Stanley Steamer” car. Watch “The Shining” then go on the evening ghost tour at the Stanley to see where Steven King spent the night and was inspired to write the book that became a classic horror movie starring Jack Nicholson. Learn more about the historic ghost tours at Stanley Tours.

STANLEY HOME MUSEUM: Get an intimate look at the life of F.O. Stanley and his family, founder of the Stanley Hotel. Knowledgeable guides lead you through the Stanley Family Home , sharing fascinating stories and insights into the daily life of the Stanley family.

VISITOR CENTER OF ESTES PARK : The Estes Park Visitor Center sees over 400,000 people each year! You will find the Estes Park Visitor Center at 500 Big Thompson Avenue, near the intersection of Highways 34 and 36. Travel information is also available by calling the Visitor Center at 800-443-7837 or 970-577-9900 or via email at: VisitorServices@estes.org .

VISITOR CENTERS IN RMNP: Rocky Mountain National Park has seven visitor centers located throughout the park, each offering information and resources to help you craft an amazing park adventure. For comprehensive information Visit Estes Park - Visitor Centers and the National Park Service - RMNP.

Bears in the Canyon

Mon, 15 Apr 2024 15:38:15 GMT

Why Do You Always Bring Your Camera?

It was a normal trip down Big Thompson Canyon to Sam’s Club where we’d purchase big containers of way too much bulk stuff that would fill our pantry for months to come. As I walked out the door my wife, Carolyn, said, “Why do you always bring your camera.” I answered, “Because you never know.”

That was three years ago, and as we wound through the quick curves of the canyon, I watched the mountain side for movement. Nearly to Drake, we slowed at the gathering of cars on the side of the road. I didn’t need to say anything because Carolyn was already pulling over, knowing there must be something to see.

Then she exclaimed, “Bear, get your camera. Your camera. Get it.” “Bear where,” I searched the hillside. Pointing, she instructed, “On the front porch of that cabin. It’s a big bear. Get your camera.”

With my camera, I hopped from the car. Moving around the crowd, there on the porch of a little, dilapidated, historic Big Thompson cabin was a huge black bear. He stood with the screen door open, pounding on the closed front door. How, I wondered, does he know that’s the front door?

Moving among the people, I stopped capturing shots. The bear looked over her shoulder as if guilty that we all knew she was committing the crime of breaking-and-entering. Then the bear dropped to all fours and lumbered over the porch and down the steps, around to the back.

Walking the roadside for a better angle, I saw them. Two cubs were clinging to the side of a tree just above the rooftop level. One black phase and one reddish, they played like baby bears will, moving and climbing, turning and looking at the people. The black one pawed the red one on its nose, and the red one swung a paw back in her sibling’s direction.

The mother bear climbed on a rock, sitting tall before us in a perfect pose. Carolyn appeared beside me, asking, “Are you getting this? They’re so beautiful.” My camera kept clicking, and I kept capturing images one after another.

Climbing down from the rock, the mother bear moved back onto the porch, back to the door, and continued her criminal behavior. Still, the door would not open, some crazy person probably using a double lock. Frustrated, the sow moved back off the porch to her cubs.

On the Cover of Estes Park News

There she watched her twins above her playing in the tree. Then she stood, leaning against the cabin with one paw and looked back at us. I kept capturing images as Carolyn said, “Wouldn’t that be cool if that picture was on the front of Estes Park News?”

For such a long time, I took pictures of the bears. Mom would disappear behind the cabin then reappear on the other side. The cubs were up and down the tree, playing, following mom, then finding another tree to climb.

I kept taking pictures, when Carolyn teased, “Aren’t you glad I told you to bring your camera?” Laughing together, I answered in my sarcastic but loving way, “Of course, dear.” Then I took more pictures.

On June 4, 2021, the image of the mother bear leaning against the cabin, her cubs in the tree above her, was on the cover of Estes Park News. I was honored that they would think so much of my photography to use the photo. I took it home, held it up to my wife, and when she clapped with excitement, I said, “That’s why I always take my camera.”

A Furry Fox Friend

Mon, 15 Apr 2024 13:07:01 GMT

Animals Greeted Us at Many Stops

I ran into Sharon on the side of the road near that opening between the Deer Mountain Junction and the Beaver Ponds. It’s a place I call “Moose Meadows.” That day, there were three elk with small velvet antlers grazing in the meadow, and we were both photographing them.

I’d met Sharon like this briefly on other occasions. She had been coming to Estes Park since she was a child. And as we stood talking, she told me of a time when the roads weren’t so crowded, the animals just as abundant, and you could bushwack across the rocks to walk the edge of the continental divide. Those were her childhood memories.

Now, she was learning photography, and asked if she could book a couple of RMNPhotographer Private Photography Tours .

A couple of days later, we were off together searching for wildlife to photograph. It was a wonderful morning, with animals greeting us at many stops. In Endo Valley, there was a bull moose feeding on the leaves by munching down on the branch, pulling it through his mouth, and shedding the stem of its greens.

At Sheep Lakes, we watched a young bull for a long time until he ran from the lake toward where we stood on the curve. Stopping, he posed as if to remind us, behind a sign that read, “Meadow Closed: Wildlife Protection and Viewing Area.”

Appropriately, at Deer Mountain, a mule deer doe and twin fawns stood frozen for just a moment. Before we could get our cameras up, she scampered away and into the forest where her babies would be protected.

Driving into the Hidden Valley parking area, a bull elk stood boldly on top of a hill. With the growth of his antlers so early in the season, you could tell by the rut, he would be an active bull with strong, dominant antlers pointed at their tips.

A Beautiful, Yellowish Red Fox Emerged

Then, I saw him, a beautiful, yellowish red fox emerging from the brush. Pointing at the canine not twenty feet, I was sure he would see us and scamper back into the brush. Instead, he sniffed and hunted, searching for food in the ground, a rodent of any type. He was so close as we watched.

Our cameras up, both Sharon and I were shooting pictures. To my shock, the furry fox stayed right in front of us. He continued to hunt, captured a vole, ate it down, then hunted some more. For ten minutes, we were able to capture images. To Sharon, I suggested camera settings, f-stop speed and ISO. Awkwardly shooting from above, we adjusted our angle working for better composition.

In RMNP, shooting deer, elk and moose are not a rarity. Chances to capture a fox, especially in more than a fleeting moment, were unique. This time with this fox so closely to us was a gift. Then, as if knowing this, the fox sat, posed for us, and yawned as if had become a bit bored. When we had several images, he stood looking at us, then ran up the hill, crossing the road, and disappeared into the forest.

I am so lucky on RMNPhotographer Tours to be able to watch, photograph, and appreciate these magnificent animals sharing moments in their world. On this day, this beautiful, full and fluffy red fox had given Sharon and I a few special moments of photography.

Why Choose RMNPhotographer Tours?

Sun, 14 Apr 2024 12:12:54 GMT

Private, Personalized Tours of RMNP

Private guided tours with RMNPhotographer Tours originally started with the belief that the Rocky Mountain National Park experience should be personalized. Families should enjoy it together in an intimate setting avoiding cramped vehicles and mass transportation without someone speaking over a microphone.

We wanted each and every guest to feel like they were on a private tour, guided by a person they felt a personal connection with who was focusing on their interests.

We had a family once who told our guide they wanted to see a moose. Their teenage daughter had had a stuffed moose since she was a little girl, and she wanted to see a real, live moose. That was their goal for their trip. Toward the end of the tour, having not yet spotted a moose, they drove by a spot that is not a regular stop. Our guide noticed a few more cars parked than usual. He asked them, “Do you mind if we stop and check something out?”

Our RMNPhotographer Tour guide, experienced in the park, pulled over, and he had the family follow him down a short trail. He knew this as an area frequented by moose, and was hoping for a sighting.

At a stopping point, there was a small group of people. The guide asked what they were seeing, and they pointed toward the trees. There, not twenty-five yards away, were two giant bull moose with mature velvet antlers lying peacefully in full view. Much to the teenage girl’s delight, her vacation was made perfect, and our guide even got a “thank you” pat-on-the-back from her father.

Our Itineraries, Stops, and Time Balance is Driven by Your Interests

Our itineraries, stops, and time balance is driven by the interest of our guests, and our guests are your family and friends you include in the tour. RMNPhotographer Tours are private tours in the comfort of your own car with a personal guide focused on meeting your special interests.

That is why RMNPhotographer Tours is a five-star reviewed company. As photographers, our guides have extensive experience in RMNP, know the intricate details of the park, and understand where to likely find wildlife. They will help you with your cell phone and camera photography in capturing special nature and wildlife photographs.

Our guides are personable, and we hope that at the end of a tour not only will you have had an experience of a lifetime, but you’ll have a new friend. Professional in their experience, people appreciate that our guides will drive you in the comfort of your own vehicle. As our guides share their extensive knowledge of RMNP’s history, beauty and wildlife, you can sit back and enjoy the journey driving the mountains to the top of the world.

RMNPhotographer Tours is insured and takes pride in our service. Our guides are certified in First Aid and CPR and operate under all required permits of RMNP and the state of Colorado. RMNPhotographer is authorized by the National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, to conduct services in Rocky Mountain National Park. Through this, your timed-entry is covered, and you can enter the park at any time with a RMNPhotographer guide.

So why choose RMNPhotographer Tours and experience RMNP with our private guide? Because RMNPhotographer is the premier tour company in Estes Park providing our guests with an incredible, personalized experience of Rocky Mountain National Park.

The Dominant Bull Elk Droptine

Sat, 13 Apr 2024 13:51:24 GMT

They called him Kickstand or Droptine

because of his unique antlers.

They called him Kickstand or Droptine because of his unique antlers. Big, a 6 x 7 point elk, for the September of 2023, he dominated Moraine Park. Periodically, a younger elk might approach one of the females in Droptine’s harem, but without much concern, he would lower his antlers, move aggressively toward them, and the other elk would retreat for its own protection.

Several mornings on RMNPhotographer Tours , we watched him. Each day he was the bull who had his harem closest to the road. Unintimidated, he was the one who provided the photo ops for hundreds of photographers there for the elk rut.

I liked the name “Droptine” because on his left rack, the side with seven points, while six tines point up, one dropped pointing down. Others liked the term “Kickstand” because like a bike, he had one tine that could prop his head up when he laid down. Either worked, but I preferred Droptine.

I wanted to capture a photograph of him straight on, his antlers back, his mouth open as he bugled his mating call, warning other bulls to stay away. It was a massive bugle, dominant like he was, and it would echo across the distant hillsides of Moraine Park with each bellow.

One morning, he was particularly amorous, and he trotted around the meadow, dipping his head in the dry grasses, flinging it upward, and sending the grass and dirt into the air. His head shaking, time after time he repeated the process until he strode toward us, the grass like a proud crown of royalty on his head.

He Walked Toward Me Bugling

On our third RMNPhotographer Tour to view Droptine, it happened. For a fleeting moment he turned, walked toward where I stood, and bellowed his dynamic bugle. My lens focused, my camera steady in my hands, I held the shutter down taking eight images per second.

Through the camera viewfinder, I would see the details of Droptine’s antlers. They were grooved in steady lines going the direction they had grown. The gray color of each tine led to white tips that had been rubbed sharp against the trees and brush. He was bold and powerful with his eyes staring into you.

You never know if you’ve gotten the shot you seek, not until the images move from the camera to the computer where it can be enlarged. No less, the thrill rushed through me, excited over what I had just captured.

Droptine had given me a moment. The moment of the bugle, the moment with his head back in strength and his eyes staring at me with power. Droptine, for that year, had dominated Moraine Park.

First Great Moose Experience in RMNP

Thu, 11 Apr 2024 19:39:11 GMT

The Sprague Lake Moose Family 2017

My first major moose sighting on the Estes Park side of Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP) was in September 2017. Long before RMNPhotographer Tours was even a thought considered, I was on a fall photo shoot, when I ventured to Sprague Lake in hopes of seeing “something.” Walking around the lake, I was disappointed, so I returned to the parking lot ready to leave.

Startled at a commotion, I looked up to see a large bull moose sprinting among the cars and scurrying tourists. A whirl of excitement rushed through me as this massive, 1,000 pound animal rushed by me in the parking lot. Quickly, he disappeared into the willows, then sprinted up the hill toward the lake.

By that time, I was sprinting too, fumbling with my camera backpack, accessing my Canon. Not so wise to run after animals, but this was my first moose photo op on the east side of RMNP, so I acted like a tourist because, well, at that time I was a tourist.

When I got to the pond behind the boardwalk, I discovered something truly special. There, a mother moose with four month old twin calves fed in the pond, the father bull moose now was standing watch, unmoving in the tall grass.

Oh, how handsome this family of moose was. For an hour, I stood with fellow photographer Richard Hahn as we photographed them. Richard gave me advice, generously teaching this rookie his photography tips. As we captured images, the moose meandered through the pond. Often, the cow would lift her head, water streaming over her in waves that trickled in dancing streams from her chin.

At one tender moment, a calf walked from the water toward the bull moose. I watched, hoping. The calf stopped in front of the bull, reaching his nose up to nuzzle his father like a child offering affection.

I had only seen moose a few times, always in Kawaneeche Valley on the west side of RMNP. With their population steadily growing since their initial introduction to Colorado in 1978, they had begun to venture to the east side. Today (2024), you are just as likely to see a moose at Sprague Lake, Sheep Lakes or anywhere in between. In 2017, this was a truly unique and special experience.

A Second Moose Family Encounter

Two days later, I was back at Sprague Lake, on my last outing before returning to the real world of work in the flat lands of Iowa. As I approached the lake, I saw them again chest deep in the water. The bull and cow together, the calves playfully splashing about.

As I stood on the trial, my camera shutter clicked rapidly. Then, the bull moved from the water onto the trail turning toward me. Backing away, the many tourists ran from the trail, up the hill and into the trees for cover. Two people helped an old man with a walker four feet off the trail, positioning him behind a foot thick tree. Then, they left him vulnerable as they rushed up the hill for safety.

I stepped up behind the elderly gentleman whispering, “Stay quiet, don’t move, and the moose will walk on by us.” Our hearts pounded as the bull grew closer. Its size seemed massive, the bulls legs reaching to my shoulder. His antlers were shed of velvet, each tine pointed and sharp.

When he was beside us, he stopped, an intimidating beast towering above us. From a few feet away, he looked at the terrified humans behind the little tree. Though frightened, I held comforting hands on the gentleman’s shoulders. Unbothered by our small size, the bull walked on.

In relief, the gentleman’s shoulders dropped, his hands resting on the walker. I patted his shoulder saying, “Now that was an experience.” He smiled back at me, pointing up the hill, “Even better than what those chickens up there.” Laughing, we looked up at the two people staring down on us like children who’d just been caught doing a really bad thing.

The family of moose at Sprague Lake was a precursor to one day bringing RMNPhotographer Tour guests to find the massive, awkward looking animal many come to RMNP hoping to see. That day in 2017 is etched in my memory as a time when a moose family became real to me, and I often wonder if any of the moose I see today are the grown up calves of that amazing family.

Why are RMNPhotographer Tour Guides so Amazing?

Tue, 09 Apr 2024 22:21:01 GMT

Because we only hire exceptional people!

We want our guests to finish their RMNPhotographer Tour with a new friend and a RMNP experience they’ll talk about for days, weeks, and years to come. We want our guests to tell their friends, “You need to go on a RMNPhotographer Tour with ______ (insert the name of any of our guides).”

Most of our guides contact me wanting to work for RMNPhotographer. Their background is from a professional setting where daily they built strong, positive relations. Now, they are living and loving life in the outdoor world. They know RMNP from their own experiences, understand its unique beauty and wildlife, and are capturing images of nature through photography. Our guides are optimistic and upbeat, wanting to pass their love of RMNP on to our guests.

As owner of RMNPhotographer Tours , I know the most important thing we do is hire the right people to serve our guests. We need people who are knowledgeable, know the inticacies of RMNP well (usually as photographers), and, most importantly, will build wonderful relations with our guests.

As a photographer, I know many of the local photographers (see photo above of local photographers at Sprague Lake with Brad in the middle). As the administrator for the Facebook group RMNPhotographer-Estes Park with 10,000+ members, I have a direct connection with many, many outstanding photographers. As a retired doctor of education with 32 years of school leadership, I’ve literally hired thousands of people. I’ve learned the value of strong communicators who will build positive relationships with our guests.

We Hire Professional, Personable, Kind Guides

In hiring our guides, we focus on professional, personable, kind people with a sense of humor, knowledge of the park, and an outstanding ability to communicate. Some are extremely talented photographers who know where people will want to go and find what they want to see. All know the behavior of RMNP's wildlife, have been to the unique locations, and share with each other so we can each guide our guests to have the best experiences. And all are wonderful people who you will like.

RMNPhotographer guides will make your day in RMNP exceptional, and when you’re done, you’ll have had a memorable experience and a new friend.

Rocky Mountain National Park “Mtn to Sky + Bear Lake Road” Premier ¾-Day Tour with RMNPhotographer

Tue, 09 Apr 2024 17:22:22 GMT

The Tour Requested by Guests

RMNPhotographer Tours created the “¾ Day Mountain to Sky + Bear Lake Road” because guests requested it.

So many RMNPhotographer Tour guests want to travel the highest highway in America, Trail Ridge Road. They want our guide to drive them up to the tundra above 11,500 ft. and visit the Alpine Visitor Center. They love the Mountain to Sky Tour, but also wanted to experience Bear Lake Road.

Bear Lake Road is a special destination to the hiking mecca of Rocky Mountain National Park. The pristine thirteen mile road leads to a dead end at Bear Lake’s 9,440 ft., but along the way there is Moraine Park and Sprague Lake.

Moraine Park, like Horseshoe Park, was created by the receding ice of glaciers. In the fall, Moraine Park is a significant location for the elk rut. Hundreds of elk gather, and the bulls fight for the right to mate with the cow elk, using the stabbing point of their antlers to chase other bulls away.

Capture an Image of an Elk Bugling
One guest, Cheryl, asked for a unique tour. She wanted to capture images of a bull elk bugling in Moraine Park. We adjusted the start time from 8:00 am to 6:30 am, and she had her camera set as the sun woke the elk and the activity began. The elk bugle is an eerie, high-pitched sound that is a mating call, signaling the bull’s virility and desire to mate. It is a loud, high-pitched scream followed by a series of grunts that can be heard from as far away as two miles.

That morning, the elk moved closer, our cameras were up, and Cheryl was able to capture several images of the elk in action. She was thrilled with the experience, the images captured, and the memories she would forever have. From there, we headed up Bear Lake Road.

The Mountain to Sky Tour + Bear Lake Road includes:

Touring through RMNP on Trail Ridge Road, the highest highway in the United States (12,183 ft.), to the Alpine Visitor Center.
Seeing snow-covered mountain vistas and lush green valleys, alpine lakes, rolling streams, and waterfalls.
Seeking bighorn sheep, gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose allowing you to capture magnificent cell phone or camera photos.
Returning to tour Bear Lake Road, the most popular area in the park including Moraine Park and Sprague Lake.

Fall Foliage Colors were Bursting

As it happened to be a fall morning, Cheryl and I continued up Bear Lake Road to capture images of the foliage colors. The aspen trees were a magnificent display of bright yellows highlighted with orange and red. These were set off by the deep greens of the mountain pines and the dynamic backdrop of Hallets Peak and the continental divide. Cheryl was in awe of the amazing fall colors images she captured.

Finally, we stopped at Sprague Lake, and as we walked the 0.7 mile trail around the lake, a bull moose wandered from the forest into the lake waters. For an hour we watched the massive animal feed on the grasses grown below the water’s surface. As he ate, he would lift his head and water would stream down over his antlers.

These are the experiences we have on our RMNPhotographer Tours . As the premier tour company in Rocky Mountain National Park, we listened to our guests and added the ¾ Day Mountain to Sky + Bear Lake Road Tour. We want the experience to be what our guests want, so we stop and stay as long as you want. With Cheryl, it was an hour and a half of taking pictures of elk bugling during the rut. All the while, I shared the history of Moraine Park and my knowledge of RMNP.

Rocky Mountain National Park “Over The Top” Premier Full-Day Tour with RMNPhotographer

Tue, 09 Apr 2024 15:23:38 GMT

Travel the Full Length of Trail Ridge Road

With RMNPhotographer Tours , experience every mile of the highest highway in the United States on Trail Ridge Road. From Estes Park (7,522 ft) soar to 12,183 ft. and on to RMNP’s west side and the quaint town of Grand Lake (8,439 ft). On your full-day RMNPhotographer “Over the Top” Tour, enjoy the best way to see the continental divide in Colorado. View seventy-seven peaks above 12,000 ft. while looking down on our pristine natural world from above.

Many of our guests have two reactions to Trail Ridge Road. 1) They appreciate that our experienced guides are driving for them, and 2) Riding instead of driving gives them the joy of the journey, viewing the world from above. The comment, “I’m glad you’re driving,” is common as guests sit back taking in the eleven miles above treeline at 11,500 feet and higher to the Alpine Visitor Center.

Our guests breath deeply at the majestic views from Forest Canyon Overlook. There marmots often play among the rocks. At the Rock Cut pullout, they laugh at pika scurrying to collect wildflowers for their winter stash. As the pika moves quickly around, the guests are able to view the distant mountain lakes along the continental divide. Stopping at the Lava Cliffs, guests are struck by the lava wall deposited hundreds of thousands of years ago during a volcanic eruption.

While we often see bighorn sheep, gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose, one young girl told me the most exciting part of the trip was stopping at Rainbow Curse. Besides the majestic view, there the pika, chipmunks, and golden mantled ground squirrels scurry about. Running among the rocks and pine trees, they venture up onto the rock ledge sitting up in front of the tourists, their tiny paws reaching out for attention.

An amazing experience, the RMNPhotographer Over the Top Tour includes:

Touring through RMNP on Trail Ridge Road, the highest highway in the United States (12,183 ft.), traveling from Estes Park to Grand Lake.
With your cell phone and camera, capturing lush green valleys, alpine lakes, rolling streams, waterfalls, and the Continental Divide.
Seeking bighorn sheep, gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose allowing you to capture magnificent photos.
Traveling through historic Kawuneeche Valley to lunch (on your own) in the quaint village of Grand Lake before returning to Estes Park.

Moose at the Little Buckaroo Ranch

Going down from the continental divide to the west side of RMNP, the tour travels twelve miles through the lush, green meadows of Kawaneeche Valley (Valley of the Coyote). One afternoon on a short, easy hike with guests around the 110 year old Little Buckaroo Ranch, we stopped to view the historic Betty Dick Barn built in 1914. Suddenly, four moose, a bull, cow, and two yearlings came running across the meadow. We were lucky enough to capture action shots of the moose passing the famed barn which is on the National Registry of Historic Places.

Just outside of RMNP, we arrive at the quaint mountain village of Grand Lake situated on the serene shores of the largest natural lake in Colorado. Surrounded by majestic mountain peaks, guests enjoy a stroll along the historic, western-style boardwalk. We stop to enjoy a meal at one of several restaurants, some overlooking mountain river rapids or the beautiful expanse of Grand Lake. We end our visit meandering through locally owned shops and galleries searching for the perfect souvenir or stopping for an ice cream cone on a warm summer day.

These are the experiences we have on our RMNPhotographer Tours . As the premier tour company in Rocky Mountain National Park, we travel in the comfort of your vehicle and stop where you want to stop. Kawaneeche Valley offers a unique opportunity for wildlife viewing in the meadows between the continental divide and Never Summer Mountains. And all the while, we share the stories, history, and wildlife of RMNP.

RMNPhotographer Tours are your tours, and we take you where you want to go, capturing the photos you want to take with your cell phones or cameras. All led by a knowledgeable, personable, and informative guide.

Rocky Mountain National Park “Lakes and Meadows” Premier Tour with RMNPhotographer

Tue, 09 Apr 2024 13:27:28 GMT

The Clouds Hang Low as the Mountains Rise Above

Hazy mornings in RMNP can be spectacular. With the clouds floating down among mountain sides and snow-capped peaks rising above, an aura of mystical beauty that your eyes can’t help but breathe in is created. This is often the experience on the RMNPhotographer Lakes and Meadows Tour .

RMNPhotographer Tours starts in Horseshoe Park with a vision across the glacier meadow to the mountains rising up among the clouds. Created over 12,000 years ago by the last glacial period, the grassy meadow left behind from melted ice includes deep depressions called Sheep Lakes. Beyond the meadow, the mountains rise up to 12,183 ft in a dominating vision of Rocky Mountain National Park.

Often elk, moose, and bighorn sheep are present, the elk grazing on the rich grasses while moose wander into the lakes, feeding off the aquatic plants. At times the moose will splash in the lake, their heads rising up as water rains down off their antlers. And on special days, the bighorn sheep will venture down from the mountain to feed on the minerals oozing from the ground into the waters.

The RMNPhotographer Lakes and Meadows Tour focuses on the lower elevations of RMNP traveling to:

The Alluvial Fan, Horseshoe Falls, Hidden Valley and the breath-taking views from Many Parks Curve.
Moraine Park and strolling around Sprague Lake with incredible views of the continental divide.
Meadows where we seek wildlife including bighorn sheep, gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose allowing you to capture magnificent photos.
Bear Lake Road experiencing the incredible beauty of RMNP without high altitude travel.

The Inspiration of Sprague Lake

Sprague Lake is our favorite place in the park with a leisurely stroll around the calm waters to be inspired by the continental divide, Hallets Peak dominating the view. Often the clouds will hang down in the same mystical fashion seen in Horseshoe Park. Moose are often seen in the mountain lake waters where Canada geese and ducks paddle about and fishermen cast their fly fishing lines in hopes of a rainbow trout striking.

These are the experiences we have on our RMNPhotographer Lakes and Meadows Tour . The premier Rocky Mountain National Park touring company, each of our many stops are based on the desires of the guest. Take a short stroll up to the Alluvial Fan, view the distant peaks and valleys from Many Parks Curve, and take a leisurely hike around Sprague Lake seeking moose who often meander in the waters. All the while, our guide will tell you the stories, history, and share their knowledge of RMNP.

RMNPhotographer Tours are your tours, and we cater to your interests. You tell us what you want to see, and that is where we will stop, spend time, and take in the incredible beauty of RMNP.

Rocky Mountain National Park “Mountain to Sky” Premier Tour with RMNPhotographer

Mon, 08 Apr 2024 19:44:35 GMT

Scenic and Wildlife Tours from Estes Park

Imagine touring mountain meadows where elk and moose roam until driving to the top of the world at 12,183 ft. From the Alpine Visitor Center, look at the expanse of Rocky Mountain National Park from above. View the seventy-seven peaks above 12,000 ft., seeing the world from above.

One of RMNPhotographer Tours favorite features is a walk up the Alluvial Fan to Horseshoe Falls (photo). One July 15, 1982, the Lawn Lake Dam broke and the ensuing flood devastated Estes Park. Starting at 11,000 ft, a couple of miles above where the Alluvial Fan now stands, 30 million cubic feet of water rushed down the little Roaring River. The Alluvial Fan is a forty acres deposit of dirt, broken trees, gravel, and boulders thousands of tons strong left with the devastation. Eventually, the flood reached downtown Estes Park damaging 177 businesses or 75% of Estes Park’s downtown businesses.

After touring the lower valley and Alluvial Fan, RMNPhotographer Tour's knowledgeable and friendly guides will continue to guide you to capture the images of a lifetime on your cell phones or cameras. We know where the wild animals roam, the places to capture the most majestic views, and a knowledge of the history and landscape of America’s 3rd most visited national park.

Travel to the Alluvial Fan, Horseshoe Falls, Hidden Valley and the breath-taking views from Many Parks and Rainbow Curve.
Tour through RMNP on Trail Ridge Road, the highest highway in the United States (12,183 ft.), to the “top of the world” at the Alpine Visitor Center.
See snow-covered mountain vistas and lush green valleys, alpine lakes, rolling streams, and waterfalls.
Seek gentle deer, dynamic elk, and massive moose allowing you to capture magnificent photos.

Thrill of a Lifetime for a 91 Year Old Man

In August 2023, our guests were a 91 year old man and his daughter. As we returned to the lower valley, our guide saw a giant bull moose slipping from the trees into an open area. Stopping, we snapped a couple of wonderful pictures, but as the moose moved back into the tree, our RMNPhotographer guide knew where the moose was heading.

Turning around, he took our guests upstream where they sat in the car and waited. Within a couple of minutes, the moose appeared (photo). The 91 year old gentleman jumped from the vehicle, his cellphone in hand, and began taking pictures exclaiming, “I’m not going to miss this.” As we stood photographing the magnificent and majestic moose, he kindly posed for us in all his beauty.

These are the experiences we have on our RMNPhotographer Tours . As the premier tour company in Rocky Mountain National Park, we cater to our guests' desires. Traveling in the comfort of your vehicle, we stop where you want to stop. If you want to hike up the Alluvial Fan, we do. If you see an elk or deer you want to photograph, we stop and stay as long as you want. And all the way, we tell you the stories, history, and knowledge of RMNP.

RMNPhotographer Tours are your tours, and we take you where you want to go, see what you want to see, and capture the photos you want to take with your cell phones or cameras. All led by a knowledgeable, personable, and informative guide.