Bosque Del Apache - a Hackberry Farm Nature Photography workshop field report

Fourteen degrees above zero is cold, but not cold enough to dissuade everyone from standing at the water’s edge and waiting for the sun to crest the mountains to the east.  We arrived half an hour ago and set up in the dark.  When I park the van, I look to the east and see the faint glow that heralds a day that’s about to commence.

Out in the water, while it’s still too dark to pick out individual shapes, you can hear the murmur of thousands of snow geese that are beginning to stir.  Last evening and through the night, the geese landed in the shallow water and stood there en masse to rest through the night.  Roosting in the water is an adaptation that allows the birds to hear any predators sneaking up on them.  It’s a big aquatic alarm system of sorts.

Over the drone of the geese, the high-pitched trill of sandhill cranes is heard.  Like the geese, they are waking as well.

Just after sunrise, on some unseen cue, the geese erupt from the water. Colloquially, this is known as the blast-off. It is amazing to behold.

Imagine thousands of geese taking off at once, managing the airspace so intricately that none collide. The white birds deftly negotiate their surroundings, individually yet as a single unit, outpacing my understanding. The flock moves as a single organism, without a discernible leader.

If you love nature, it’s something you have to witness at least once.

During this nature photography workshop, we visit suitable habitats to photograph the annual crane and snow goose migration. Our efforts yield hundreds of images of birds in flight and rare interactions typically seen only in nature documentaries.

Cranes and geese weren’t the only species on the docket.  During one of our safari drives, we spot a mule deer buck grazing along one of the irrigation ditches.

When I spot him, I know he’s special, so we move into place. For several minutes, we watch him mock-fight a stand of willow trees, letting off rut-induced steam and practicing for rivals. After he rubs the trees, he runs through the water, stops on the levee, looks back, and disappears forever. Everyone in the group fires at the buck.

“That may be the biggest mule deer buck you’ll ever see,” I tell the group after the deer is gone.  He is indeed special;  heavy antlers with a nice spread.  He’s got a phenotypical four-by-four antler configuration, but it’s the unusual kicker points that grow from his tines that hint at the unusual.  But (and this is a big but) the double drop tines that grow from each side of his antlers make him a unicorn of sorts.

These kinds of bucks aren’t very common.

When you take the sum of the parts of this trip and look at the totality of the experience, it was indeed a great one.  Plenty of birds, good company, and beautiful desert scenery make the experience worthwhile.

On the last full day, we get doubly lucky as we successfully stalk a herd of javelina.  Later in the afternoon, we are smack dab in the middle of a covey of feeding Gambel’s Quail.

Stop after stop, Mother Nature provides her bounty for us to capture on digital media. On the final morning, this is clear. Again, we are at the water’s edge waiting for sunrise. Now, I notice most folks simply enjoy the scene. Free from the camera’s few constraints, they just soak in the moment.

Nothing here is lacking.  That’s the way it is meant to be.

ADDITIONAL IMAGES