At times, it seems that’s what they are expressing, unless you were there to know the BTS. In this case, this small group of American Bison was on the move in Yellowstone’s Hayden Valley. We came upon them at the bottom of a grade, and we could barely see their breath cause it was 18 degrees, bloody warm! They were heading up a hill though and like any other critter, exerting themselves to climb a hill. I knew when they reached the top, they would be breathing hard. So the snowcoach took us to the top of the grade, where there was a pull off. And there we waited for about thirty minutes. Then they came up and sure enough, they were panting, and the steam was bellowing. But the cow’s eyes seem to same, where have you been?

In the winter, the Red Fox has the most luxurious coat. Its color again, snow takes on a whole step deeper hue. The combination makes it a critter to seek and find. In the west, that is easier said than done. Yellowstone, in certain years, makes the possibility a near slam dunk, and from what I’m hearing, this could be one of those years. They are smart, they can be wary, so a little time looking and waiting is a must. Then, and this is critical, let them come to you. They will if you give them time, and that’s the key. They don’t like being pushed, a classic case of don’t be in a hurry to get nothing. So, I’ve got the time and eyes, so thinking a Red Fox may be in my future. Fingers crossed.

The Black-capped Chickadees seemed as excited as I to see the snow falling! I had to venture to Sax-Zim Bog in MN to find it, and after three days of temp 60 degrees warmer than normal, it was a blessing. We moved to snow country decades ago in part to photograph birds in falling snow. Inspired long ago by a photo I saw of a Cardinal in falling snow, I’ve been capturing it ever since. We were already to chase that photo again this year at The Ranch but, we have no snow, none! The chickadee seemed to be saying what I was saying, what’s that falling?

Their targer was the large, 2×4′ platform feeder stuffed with seed. Not really the shot I was after. I wanted them on the smaller branches, so I had to wait, and wait! Needed the platform feeder to fill up, so then the queue would start perching on the small, nearby branches. It happened a couple of times, and each time, the photos just came to life! While the males are a gorgeous rose color, oh man, of those ladies!

Their majestic pose, their eyes locked on ya staring down the lens barrel, it’s so addictive! Having been fortunate to enjoy this moment many times in the past, like in January at Sax-Zim, I seek it as often as possible. So we’ve been out looking for our local Great Gray Owls with little success. It’s the usual story, “Should have been here …” That’s probably one of the greatest rewards of photographing critters, getting out on their terms, looking for them in their world. When they share it, it touches the soul, leaving a permanent attachment. So far this winter, though, when it comes to our local Great Grays, no sign … yet.

Statistically, it shouldn’t be the case. But each winter, we have a flock of flickers at our feeders. I’m not talking a half dozen or even a dozen, right now out our windows, Sharon & I count 27! They are so much fun to watch and even more so to photograph. They are incredibly vocal, that’s until either the Coops or Gos appear in the canopy, and especially when the Pileated lands on the feeder. Then it’s silent, until they are gone. With all of them around, some checking out old cavities, some making new, in and out of the owl boxes, we expect to have them nest on the property. But so far, not a one. In fact, once winter lets go of the land, they vacate the property. They come and go with the snow.