It’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t connected to nature.  As a child of 8 or 10, I can vividly remember hiking the Pennsylvania mountains with my family- in search of spotted salamanders, a glimpse of the telltale flag from a fleeting whitetail deer, or an elusive warbler darting among the branches of an old growth oak tree.

In my mind’s eye, these are spectacular images that have grown more crisp and exciting over the years.  It wasn’t until my teen years, however, that I realized my mind and the camera often see the same image from vastly different perspectives.  The lens of a camera sees and records the entire scene at the click of a shutter- without the gentle massaging of an embellished memory or the rush of emotions that burst forth when you smell the musk of a buck on an early November morning. 

Imagination and reality merged for me on my first photographic excursion.  I was headed to the Canadian wilderness to capture images of the wilderness, bull moose and fabulous pink salmon racing through icy rivers.  Canada was a place my father spoke of often, but had never seen.  I was 16 and still remember the excitement on his weathered face when my father handed me my first real camera- a Petri FTEE.  Dad gave specific instructions to capture all that I saw.  The gravity of the assignment was lost on me.  I hadn’t yet translated the image of photographer into the reality of an artist.

I did see an amazing wilderness and some of the most magnificent of God’s creatures a man could imagine.  When I arrived home, I anxiously told my father of the wonderful photos I’d taken and the incredible sights I had seen.  I thoroughly and completely described the images that I had captured with my Petri.

We quickly developed the summer’s worth of film.  The images, so clearly captured in my mind, morphed into a blurred brown smudge partially hidden by the red and black flannel shoulder of my colleague.  My father graciously chuckled and confirmed it was indeed a cow moose peering out among some Canadian aspen.  I can still remember him saying this would go down a trip that would be remembered for my photography.  And with more experience and practice, my photography would be how we remember future outdoor experiences.

Nearly four decades later, I still have that photo.  I share it with friends and aspiring photographers and tell them; The camera sees everything through an unforgiving lens; a photographer adds passion; and an artist evokes emotion.  Long before my photos appeared in The Nature Conservancy magazine, wildlife calendars and homes across America, there was an unforgiving lens that launched my journey.  Along the way, the camera became an extension of my imagination and the voice of my passion.

I invite you to join me on this journey through nature from the camera’s lens.

Read about some of my Most Memorable Moments in photography.