The Bayou is such a beautiful place. Cypress trees with their wide bases sport the glorious bronze color of fall. Gray-green Spanish moss drapes almost every branch of the same cypress trees. Lily pads float atop still waters. White Ibis flock over head while Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons fish at the shallow edges of the swamp. It is peaceful and mysterious and intriguing.
Our last morning on Caddo Lake was capped with the sighting of this Great Blue Heron perched on the edge of a Cypress amidst the hanging Spanish moss in the perfect light. We were heading back to the dock when we came across the GBH comfortably tucked away in a sheltered area and unconcerned with the sound of our camera shutters.
This time of year, the feathery leaves of Bald Cypress trees, conifers that thrive in wet soil in the southeastern United States, begin to change to an intense bronzy orange color. But this lone cypress is surrounded by a noxious plant floating on the surface of the water that was only very recently discovered on Caddo Lake. In 2006, the Giant Salvinia, an invasive aquatic fern from Brazil that was first imported for use as an ornamental plant, was found in the lake. It can double its biomass in days and threatens the health of the ecosystem in which it thrives. Locals call it the “lake-eating monster.” Efforts to control the Salvinia have been partially successful and the introduction of a weevil that feeds only on Salvinia has been a potential solution that might eventually eradicate the problem.
This intense red of the rising sun on our second day on Caddo Lake was nothing short of stunning. A storm front added some clouds that made the scene more dramatic than the previous day’s sunrise. This is such a gorgeous place and words cannot adequately describe its beauty.
Cypress forests draped in Spanish moss define the bayous around Caddo Lake. The cypress leaves are just starting to turn a brilliant red and this Great Egret can’t be missed in the moss covered trees.
Caddo Lake, straddling the border of Texas and Louisiana, has one of the largest flooded cypress forests in the United States. In the early morning, the cypress trees are silhouetted against the orange skies and are reflected in the still waters of the bayou. A pontoon boat skippered by Capt. Rich on the Texas side, got us out on the water in time to witness this gorgeous sunrise.
One of the common sights when photographing Bighorn Sheep is the telemetry equipment attached to their necks that is used to track their movements that ultimately will ensure the survival of the species in the Flaming Gorge area. By the mid twentieth century, Bighorn sheep, anywhere in Utah, were rare sights, decimated by over-hunting, loss of habitat, and fatal diseases transmitted by domestic sheep. Efforts from a coalition that included the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, the Foundation for North American Wild Sheep, and the National Park Service proved successful in reintroducing Bighorns to their former ranges throughout Utah, including Flaming Gorge and Red Canyon by the mid 1980s. I photographed this ram, with his large collar near Red Canyon. The collars are made to transmit until the fasteners disintegrate and allow the collar to drop off. Researchers then track down the collar from its signals. Not all sheep are tagged and collared but it is still a common for a few sheep, both rams and ewes, in each herd to have this equipment.
When we first spotted the small band of five Bighorn ewes near Red Canyon in Flaming Gorge, they were grazing and resting in deep shade among the pine trees. After a half hour or so, they stood up and walked toward us to the edge of the road into the perfect light. I was shooting with my Nikon D6 with the Nikkor 500mm PF and they came so close, whole body shots were out of the question so I was committed to getting a portrait. Once the sheep realized that we were not a threat to them, they trusted us enough to venture close.
The morning light made the golden leaves glow with breathtaking colors in Flaming Gorge. The trees were simply gorgeous.
Maine’s Portland Head Lighthouse and Ram Island Ledge Light Station in the distance once shined the way for ships entering Casco Bay toward the Portland Harbor. Treacherous ledges made it imperative to build these lighthouses, Portland Head Light in a 1791 and more than a hundred years later, the Ram Island Ledge Light Station was completed in 1905. Neither lighthouse is still used for navigation with the Ram Island Ledge Light Station now in private hands. But, I thought the addition of the light beams on an early sunrise view of both lighthouses evoked days gone by.