Larry Bozka
Telephoto Butterfly
You get over the fence, and are immensely grateful to have avoided the enemy … countless jagged little barbed-wire daggers that have struggled mightily to engrave OOAK signatures into the matte black barrel coating of the your newest lens.. An obscenely expensive Nikkor 200-400/f4 telephoto zoom, the “long lens” you’ve pined for your entire life. And finally, after cowboying up and cremating your savings account, acquired.
The prime directive was to photograph Whitetail deer, geese and most every other game animal that roams upon or soars above the Post Oak Savannah.
Problem is, an hour later you find yourself in the center of a field with a single camera body, a rock-heavy lens and a complete absence of subject material. Having waited half an hour, sequestered amidst the brush while draped in camouflage from head-to-toe camo, you shrug and deal with it. Ain’t gonna happen. Not today. Until, while walking back to the truck, you see the canary yellow splash of a solitary wildflower.
Maybe 20 yards away, a brightly color-etched monarch butterfly stands a top the yellow petals like a satin-winged lookout.
When you do the ultimate stupid “duh” and forget to carry a monopod on one of these “who knows“ vision quests, all you have is your hands and arms. So you shoot an obligatory “Hail Mary” short sequence of frames, and don’t give it another thought until perusing the inventory of the previous days effort.
It’s an indescribable feeling when you see that somehow, despite carrying the wrong equipment, God still provides more than ample evidence of His beauty if only you stop to really look at what’s out there.
Telephoto Butterfly
You get over the fence, and are immensely grateful to have avoided the enemy … countless jagged little barbed-wire daggers that have struggled mightily to engrave OOAK signatures into the matte black barrel coating of the your newest lens.. An obscenely expensive Nikkor 200-400/f4 telephoto zoom, the “long lens” you’ve pined for your entire life. And finally, after cowboying up and cremating your savings account, acquired.
The prime directive was to photograph Whitetail deer, geese and most every other game animal that roams upon or soars above the Post Oak Savannah.
Problem is, an hour later you find yourself in the center of a field with a single camera body, a rock-heavy lens and a complete absence of subject material. Having waited half an hour, sequestered amidst the brush while draped in camouflage from head-to-toe camo, you shrug and deal with it. Ain’t gonna happen. Not today. Until, while walking back to the truck, you see the canary yellow splash of a solitary wildflower.
Maybe 20 yards away, a brightly color-etched monarch butterfly stands a top the yellow petals like a satin-winged lookout.
When you do the ultimate stupid “duh” and forget to carry a monopod on one of these “who knows“ vision quests, all you have is your hands and arms. So you shoot an obligatory “Hail Mary” short sequence of frames, and don’t give it another thought until perusing the inventory of the previous days effort.
It’s an indescribable feeling when you see that somehow, despite carrying the wrong equipment, God still provides more than ample evidence of His beauty if only you stop to really look at what’s out there.