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Around Yellowstone, we get a plethora of foul weather and I love to photograph it. Stormy weather often times is a photographer’s gift from above.
The Canadian Rockies where superlatives become mute in a landscape abounding with peaks competing to dominate the sky, psychedelic lakes that ……
A grizzly bear boar, grizzly bear sow, her three cubs dine on the bounty of Yellowstone with a pack of wolves in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone National Park
While doing due diligence on room amities on Trip Advisor for my trip to Japan, I have to admit, that the cheap looking plastic toilets were a put off but a toilet is a toilet, right?
I stand still repeating several times like a prize fighter in between rounds, off his chair standing ready for his opponent. No fists today. No. Just my rod, my fly box and my craft and wit.
I’m being held in place by the nature I love even if its unforgiving at its best. Today it holds me to the bottom of this river and surrounds me with awe and exhilaration and privilege.
Swooping Great Grey Owl, showcased in Outdoor Magazine.
Well Bill explained that he is with a golden eagle that can’t fly and not being far from my home in Swan Valley Idaho, he asked whether I knew the local Game and Fish people so we could rescue this eagle.
This book is for all visitors with a desire to seek out wildlife, photograph the landscape, or merely learn about the history, geology, and lay of the land of Grand Teton National Park.
When I first arrived in Jackson Hole one of the first things I did was purchased a super wide-angle lens. Upon getting my slides back I was in for a big disappointment – my mountains seemed to have nearly disappeared.
Grizzly 399 produces triplets again, or so it seems. Absent is the red ear tag bling that positively identified her in the past. Nonetheless a 400-pound road tolerant grizzly sow has shown up in Grizzly 399’s territory with three new adorable cubs.
Louise, my mother, went into assisted living kicking and screaming then after getting there, she loved it. The weight of responsibility was lifted from her shoulders, and she made the journey from paranoia from random dementia, to joy.
My photo “Green River Lakes Fly-fisherman” photo of the day at Outdoor Photographer Magazine on 5/10/2013
By © Daryl L. Hunter – The Hole Picture Spring has sprung it Yellowstone and now its time to go for a drive. Most of the gates are open and all soon will be. The weather is shaping up, and Yellowstone’s peak predator viewing is in full swing. Around the first of April Grizzlies without […]
Out of a chasm between Mt. Teewinot and Mt. St. John once flowed a large glacier that ceased to exist after the Pinedale Glaciation during the last years of the Pleistocene epoch, which ended about 11,700 years ago. Upon the demise of the glacier its legacy is Jenny Lake and upstream to Cascade Canyon.
Hyalite Reservoir is a small but gorgeous 206-acre lake located about 12 miles south of Bozeman Montana, 10.5 miles up Hyalite Canyon.
I cast a fly upon the waters of the South Fork and in no time at all had a writhing, two-pound rainbow tail dancing across an eddy as the fish tried for the fast water a short distance away. Ah, ha! I had heard the South Fork was a better fishery than the upper Snake, but had never bothered to try it. Now I was hooked.
While living in Lake Tahoe in August 1986, I read in Outdoor Photographer Magazine a feature about Fred Joy and his gallery. As with all featured artists Outdoor Photographer profiled the highlights of Fred’s portfolio and Fred’s stunning imagery of the Grand Tetons spilled out all over several pages
Whenever I surprise a mule deer doe or fawn, and alarmingly their heads pop out of the forage like a jack-in-the-box, appearing as though they just got out of the beauty parlor, their oversized, ever alert, ears reaching for the sky, their eyes wide and big as saucers they always demonstrate why “doe-eyed” has become a cliché for beautiful, innocent eyes.
I momentarily gave pause to think of what a bad dad I was for suspending common to endeavor a nonessential photo excursion when the weatherman and the Department of Transportation, both were telling everyone to stay home. I really had no time to fret over it much, or the roads would close, and my long weekend would be spent at home.
I have lived in many resort towns since, and I have noticed a trend, I am attracted to them when they are still small, quaint, and undiscovered, but it usually isn’t long before word spreads about this next great place. The newcomers arrive, and they marvel at the scenery but yearn for a classier looking town.
Yep, we’ve all been there “Post Processing Hell”. We get home from a great day of photography, never has trip into the field ever been so good. Then it’s over, into the cave we go.
I had been dwelling around the river valleys and canyon streams chasing trout long enough, it was time to re-acquaint myself with the unpredictable adrenaline rush horses often provide while expediting my exponentially ample ass up the mountain trails to the sublime subalpine regions of our high mountains
Native American legend across the country holds that the Great Spirit built the land, made the seas, and filled both well with animals and people: Long, long ago when the Great Waters surged in a blind and shoreless world, the gigantic beaver swam and dove and spoke with the Great Spirit.