It's Earth Day, 2025

On April 22, 2017 I wrote the linked blog about Earth Day. My musings reflected on biology, the Earth Day movement, and my confusion about the political moment at that time. Eight years later, the feeling of déjà vu is palpable, while the reality of the planet’s health and the future of its denizens seem even more tenuous.

On one side, progressive movements have advocated for bold climate action, green jobs, and environmental justice. On the other, skepticism toward climate science and fear of economic disruption fuels a resistance that has never been more powerful. Despite the entrenched polarization, I am hopeful that the frequency and intensity of climate disasters are forcing reluctant conversations that may break the malaise, and even forge some common ground. Yet, I fear that the politics of the day make honest and frank discussions about the environment nearly impossible.

So here we are, Earth Day 2025. It has arrived amid a turbulent moment where political appointments are disingenuous, draconian cuts have forced out experienced staff, data science has been demonized, and deregulation has gutted the EPA's enforcement capabilities. It is hard to be hopeful when there is a powerful force that supports the one-sided agenda of development over protection.

Sadly, those who care are tired and bewildered by this period in time in which the environmental movement is demoralized and deflated. Yet, there are those of us who continue to look for ways to fight the good fight. It is crucial that we keep talking about the data, the reality, the loss of biodiversity, the climate disasters, the food insecurity, the loss of property, and the right to live on a healthy planet. We, the environmentalists, are tired of fighting, but we are not done. For those who care, I suggest that you…

• Reach out to your state and federal congressional leaders, and remind them that your health and safety is in their hands.

• Find a way to volunteer your time and energy to advocate for a park, a habitat, a species, an environment,…

• Support an organization that buy and conserve land, documents environmental damage, engages in lobbying, and/or works to protect an ecosystem.

It is Earth Day 2025 and out collective action has never been more important.

©2000-2025 BTLeventhal.com / BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

Adventures in California... Post #2

The Elkhorn Slough Reserve is located between Monterey and Santa Cruz, California. Nestled between mountains and ocean, tidal forces fill the shallow wetland with sea water, while freshwater rivers replenish the slough with nutrients. A rare coastal wetland in central California, the Elkhorn slough is a little known refuge for aquatic mammals and birds. Today, it is a critical nursery for the sea otter, whose population plummeted to 50 individuals in the early 1900’s. The protected bay that makes up the slough is a key habitat where rehabilitated otters are released and can thrive. With a population of 2000-3000 otters in the Monterey Bay, this reserve is one of the best places to see and photograph otters using rocks to crack mollusk shells, cuddle their young, or just chill in small groups.

It’s not just for otters, as one can see harbor seals and their pups as well as sea lions cruising for fish in the harbor and open ocean. This region is rich with anchovies and other small fish, and is a great place to go on whale tour to find lunging humpbacks, orca, and a variety of dolphin species.

Avid and novice birders will also be rewarded with a visit to the Elkhorn Slough. With over 340 bird species identified, this wetland is a hotspot for those looking to add new birds to their list. On any given visit, one can see a diverse group of gulls, terns, shorebirds, pelagic species, passerines, raptors, and ducks. You will be rewarded with something new on nearly every visit. My capacity to describe the treasures one might encounter is limited, as I’ve not included a single marine invertebrate or plant, both of which contribute to this location’s cornucopia of biodiversity.

So why this blog at this time? By now, many of you know about the Los Angeles fires that are burning about 300 miles to the south of the slough, but it is unlikely that you are aware of the fire on the edge of the this refuge. After an outing where I photographed otters and shorebirds on January 15th, a Lithium battery storage facility caught file and expelled a plume of toxins into the air. The Pacific Coast Highway was promptly closed, and people in the area were forced to evacuate. The smoke reached 1000 feet and was dispersed by offshore breezes. While the short-term impact is inconvenient, the longterm effects of the fire are unknown. The decision to build this plant so close to an ecological treasure, and towns like Salinas, Moss Landing, and Monterey, is questionable at best. Sadly, fires like this do harm to the psyche of each of us, as we wrestle with the realities of climate change and climate instability. This power storage and manufacturing facility is one solution to mitigate the need for carbon-based energy. The batteries near Moss Landing store solar and wind energy in an attempt to reduce the state’s carbon footprint. Thus, we are faced with a difficult paradox… How is it possible to sustain human development and preserve the planet’s biodiversity while driving down our reliance on fossil fuels? The latter is a question that I first encountered as a young college student in 1984. Sadly, this question proposed by a long-forgotten professor continues to linger and haunt me 41 years later.

Related Blog: Favorite Places : Elkhorn Slough (August 2016)

All Rights Reserved. Copyright Bruce J Leventhal, btleventhal.com, bruceleventhal.com

Top Ten 2024

Today’s blog is inspired by my friend and extraordinary photographer Martin Bailey (see his work, podcasts, and photo-workshops —> here). Martin has advocated for years that photographers exercise their eye and heart by selecting a “Top 10” group of images produced in a calendar year. This task can be excruciating if one takes as many pictures as I do. In the end, favorites and bests often rise to the top, but these so-called “bests” are those that resonate with the artist, and not the viewer. I am quite certain that the photos I have selected may not be the ones a dispassionate observer might make, but they are the images that resonated with me.

I’ve decided to share this work in clusters. The images will be preceded by a short block of text that offers a bit of context, and each picture will be captioned with a title and explanation as to why it was selected.

JAPAN: 2024 began with the earnest realization that my wife, Tamy Leventhal, would no longer be a physical companion on my adventures. Her passing continues to sting, but while she is not here with me in the flesh, I carry her in my heart and brain wherever I go. This passenger in me is uniquely present when I’m in the field and behind a camera. While I had done a few short trips in 2023 following Tamy’s death, my January trip to Japan was a seminal moment. This excursion with Martin Bailey Tours was the first time I left the country to pursue nature photography without Tamy. I am grateful for the friendships I made abroad, and Martin’s sensitivity to the emotional burden I carried during my travels.

Hokkaido Japan was a bucket-list destination that I had always planned to visit following my retirement. Mid January and early February are the best times to photograph Japan’s winter wildlife. Because I was bound to my work as a teacher, seeing a winter in Japan had to wait until I was not tied to the needs of my students. Because my trip to Japan was a significant step into the future, the work I produced there represents 50% of my top ten photographs.

Cranes in the Mist, Hokkaido Japan : Seeing Red-crowned cranes was on my bucket list of species to see and photograph. I have told stories about these birds to my students when discussing behavior ecology. In addition, this species in mist and frost seemed to be an iconic way of representing the minimalistic beauty that is everywhere in Hokkaido.

Fox Curl, Hokkaido Japan : I was fortunate to see and photograph many foxes during my time in Japan. On this occasion, a foraging fox stopped what it was doing, sought out a patch of dark earth, and curled up to take a nap. This brief moment of eye-contact is what elevated this photo to my top ten list.

Banking, Hokkaido Japan : I spent a few frenzied mornings trying to photograph Steller’s sea eagles and white-tailed eagles from the deck of a boat that was surrounded by ice flows. While the photography was quite challenging, I made quite a few images of this species catching fish in the frigid water. In the end, my favorite eagle shot was of this bird that had banked towards me and seemed to look right into my lens.

Where Trees Meet Snow, Hokkaido Japan : I am forever trying to push myself beyond “natural history” images that might seem best placed in a field guide. By using inentional camera movements, I induced the blur to create an impressionistic image of a forest… you’ll see more work like this from me in the future.

MOVE TO CALIFORNIA: People often say that you should not make any drastic decisions following a loss like the one I experienced. While I tried to give life a go in Minnesota, I found that I could not break from the depression and grief that overwhelmed me each day. While I continue to grieve the loss of my partner, I recognized that I needed a change in scenery if I was going to ever stop the the merry-go-round that replayed Tamy’s decline in my head. So, as 2023 ended, I retired from my 31 year-long career in teaching, and made plans to move to California. I purchased a tiny home that is all of 400 square feet, and put it on my sister’s property along the Central California coast. This second block of images reflect a tiny fraction of my work in California. I live in a biodiverse region of the state where mountains give way to forests that touch the sea. My decision to live here offers me the opportunity to make images throughout the year and follow a variety of unique migration patterns.

Bobcat on the Prowl, Point Reyes California : I have spent many years trying to make a decent photograph of a bobcat. In October, 2024, I spent 90 minutes over two days watching this individual from afar. At some point, I just sat in the prairie and watched the cat go about her business… this was the gift she gave me.

Laughing Sea Otter, Elkhorn Slough California : I live about 20 minutes from an estuary where I can put in a kayak and paddle with otters, sea lions, seals, and pelagic bird species. This otter was busy grooming when it looked up and appeard to laugh. Like many of my other strong images of wildlife, it is the eye-contact that caused me to select this as a top ten shot.

White-sided Dolphin Porpoising, Monterey Bay California : I have photographed dolphins and whales many times throughout my decades of nature photography, but have never made a clean shot of a dolphin that is completely out of the water. Shot on a very foggy morning, this was the first time I’ve made a dolphin photo that I actually like.

ICELAND: Tamy and I visited Iceland in June 2016 and again in August 2017. We had two amazing adventures, and I fell for the magical light and scenery that the country had to offer. With wanderlust in my heart, I made a rather spontaneous decision to return to Iceland. The trip was a cathartic experience as it was the first time I returned to a place we both loved, but this time I made the journey alone. The November conditions were nothing short of brilliant, as I was gifted two days of beautiful light and four days of turbulent Icelandic weather.

Clouds over Vestrahorn, Stokksnes Iceland : Although I had driven past this location previously, I never stopped. From the road this area appears to be a “nothing-burger.” On this occasion, a guide steared me in the right direction and I was able to capture the motion in the grass and sky as sunset approached.

Sunrise on Diamond Beach, Iceland : Much like Vestrahorn, Tamy and I did not have the opportunity to photograph Diamond Beach in 2016. While I made many images of water flowing in and around the ephemeral icebergs, I liked this simple shot of a sunstar refracting through a block of ice.

MOVING FORWARD: 2025 promises to be another year rich in photographic adventures. I have purchased a 2002 VW camper van and hope to spend the year traveling throughout the US and Canada. I do not know what the future holds, but if I’m alive, you’ll see me somewhere with a pack on my back and a tripod on my shoulder.

Happy New Year, bruce

Kaleidoscope of Monarchs, Natural Bridges California : After years of teaching, I now have the time and energy to push my brain in new and unique directions. Like each and every one of us, the some of our life experiences impacts how we perceive the past, present, and future. As I evolve, so evolves my vision of nature. This piece foreshadows my own evolution as an artist and says a bit about how I am feeling and thinking these days.

All Rights Reserved. Copyright Bruce J Leventhal, btleventhal.com, bruceleventhal.com

Winter Solstice 2024

While I am not one to celebrate the holidays that come and go each year, I do like to acknowledge the profound seasonal shifts we experience. Today is the the Winter Solstice... the day in which the Northern Hemisphere experiences the least amount of daylight. From December 22nd and onwards, our days will get longer as the nights get shorter.

These atronomical oscillations are meaningful to me, as they are the things that truly impact the life on our planet. For me, this shortest of days is a time in which I reflect on the life I've lived, the people I've met, and those I have lost...

May you embrace the changing season and light...

All Rights Reserved. Copyright Bruce J Leventhal, btleventhal.com, bruceleventhal.com

Adventures in California... Post #1

Just 15 miles south of my new home is a bay where marine mammals and coastal birds congregate. Referred to as a slough, the water levels in this area fluctuate with the tide, and the salinity varies with the seasonal rains. The variable nature of the habitat and its location on California’s central coast make this a unique place to photograph the region’s rich biodiversity. When I arrived at the slough on an early July morning, the fog was so thick that it might as well have been midnight. I could barely see beyond the hood of my Cooper, and assumed that this day would be a bust. Not one to quit so easily, I forged ahead until I found a small patch on which to park. With nothing to see and nowhere to go, I grabbed my gear and made my way to a mudflat where I could plant my butt. The water lapped at the soles of my boots while the gulls called from above. The first hour passed quickly as I watched the fog wax and wane.

In wildlife photography, it is the potential of seeing something (dare I say anything) that motivates many of us to wait “it” out. The chance of putting a lens on an owl, a whale, a moose, or even an egret is all it takes to extract a nature lover from the warmth of a bed. So when I caught a momentary glimpse of a seal breaking the water’s surface, I began to imagine the possibilities and dreamt about what could be. Ten minutes later the seal appeared again, but this time it had something in it’s mouth. I say something, because at that moment, I could not make sense what I was seeing. The seal was holding what looked to be a weather-worn piece of wood in the shape of a plate… was it playing?

I grabbed a few pictures as the seal leaned in with a sideways glance, and then it disappeared. Here and gone before it dipping backing into the fog and gray water. Ten minutes later my friend resurfaced with its jaw clamped onto a shark-like tail. I now understood the “game,” the seal was trying to eat, but this was not your typical fish. With a plate-like head and a tail like a shark, I realized that the seal had found a skate similar to those you might see in a zoo’s “touch tank.”  I watched the interaction for 90 minutes as the seal grappled with its thick and awkward prey. Diving and rolling, the seal would not let go. I imagined that the skate was like a tough piece of grizzle on the edge of T-bone steak; nothing would get in the way of eating all of the good and bad parts.

The slough is full of surprises, and is magic for me. As I watched the battle unfold, an otter doing yoga paddled by, gulls tried to sneak in on skate scraps, an egret fished for minnows, and a curlew probed the mud for worms. By the time the seal was sated, the fog lifted, and I too felt full and satisfied.

All Rights Reserved. Copyright Bruce J Leventhal, btleventhal.com, bruceleventhal.com

The Symbiotic Dance

In the literal sense, symbiosis means living together. Biologically, symbiotic interactions have been cultivated through evolutionary time and can be beneficial to both symbionts (mutualistic), to one of the partners (parasitic), or neutral to one, yet beneficial to the other (commensal). In life, symbiosis is more of the rule than the exception. For example, root systems are symbiotic with a near neural network of fungi and bacteria, corals and lichen rely on their algal symbionts for energy, and most animals would be nutritionally deficient were it not for the army of symbiotic bacteria and protozoa in their gut. While symbiosis is critical to many ecological systems, few symbiotic relationships are more captivating than those between hummingbirds and flowers.

When the Beak Fits : Nikon Z9 and Nikkor Z 800mm f6.3PF

With 34-36 million individual birds documented throughout North America in 2021, the ruby-throated hummingbird can be easily observed hovering over flowers and snatching airborne mosquitos. Identifying this species is not very difficult. Weighing in at about 3.5 g and 7 to 11 cm (2.8 to 4.3 in) ruby-throats are aggressive mighty-mights that dart about in a competitive rampage to keep members of their type and larger birds away from nectar-rich flowers. Distinguishing males from females is easy because the species is sexually dimorphic. Mature males have a forked tail and an iridescent ruby red patch, known as the gorget, while the larger females have a white throat with streaks of black and a notched iridescent green tail. Despite their diminutive size, this smallest of North American hummingbirds are migratory wonders as they traverse thousands of miles between a breeding range that extends into Canada and the wintering territories throughout Central America.

Stretch : Nikon Z9 and Nikkor Z 800mm f6.3PF

To cross the continental U.S., ruby-throats need to fuel up before their migration. With a heart rate of up to 1260 beats per minute, a respiratory rate of 250 breaths per minute, and 53 wingbeats per second (3180/minute), these hummers have one of the highest metabolic rates of any animal species. To meet this need, the typical hummingbird must consume 1.5 to 3 times their body mass in nectar and insects every day. So, if you want to see a ruby-throat, you need to find their food.

I’ve been a ruby-throat watcher ever since I discovered their attraction to Impatience capensis. Also known as jewelweed or touch-me-not, the species is a relatively common plant with bright yellow or orange flowers that can be found in ditches and along creeks that feed lakes or rivers. Jewelweed’s nectar-rich trumpet-shaped flowers are a perfect fit for a hummingbird’s long and narrow bill.

Insects = Protein : Nikon Z9 and Nikkor Z 800mm f6.3PF

Jewelweed and hummingbirds have a coevolved mutualistic relationship in which both species benefit from the interaction. When birds dip their bills to extract some nectar, a bit of plant pollen will attach to the beak. When these ever-hungry birds hover over and visit another flower, they become “flying penises,” as they inadvertently transfer the pollen to a new individual thus facilitating sexual reproduction by the plants. Food for sex,… not a bad deal.

Nikon Z9 and Nikkor Z 800mm f6.3PF

©2000-2023 BTLeventhal.com / Bruce Leventhal. All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

Fat Ol' Bear

Black bears (Ursus americanus) are an ubiquitous species that inhabit the many forested and mountainous regions throughout North America. Their unique behaviors and adaptations have long fascinated biologists and animal lovers. One intriguing behavior is hyperphagia – an intense and voracious feeding period that occurs in the months leading up to winter torpor (colloquially referred to as hibernation). Hyperphagia is a critical phase in a black bear's life cycle, as it prepares them for the energetic limits linked to fasting throughout winter.

Being Bird Aware - Nikon Z8 and Nikon 400mm f/4.5S

Hyperphagia is a phenomenon characterized by an increased appetite and the excessive consumption of food. The onset of hyperphagia depends on the geographic and environmental conditions of the habitat. For black bears in the North Central United States, this period typically begins in late August and ends following multiple days of a hard frost. During hyperphagia, black bears can consume enormous amounts of food, sometimes doubling or tripling their body weight. Bears who fail to fatten up sufficiently may not survive hibernation, exit the winter den weak, or starve newborn cubs birthed during the winter months.

Time to Move On - Nikon Z8 and Nikon 400mm f/4.5S

Black bears are among my favorite species to photograph. With doglike characteristics, the movement of their eyes and ears can elicit an emotional response by anyone with a beating heart. The elongated snout, sloppy tongue, and pot belly makes this large carnivore appear to be cute and cuddly; it is no wonder that Teddy bears continue to be America’s favorite stuffed animal.

Cub on a Stick - Nikon Zy

When photographing black bears consider the following instructional and cautionary points:

1. Be aware of your surroundings… Black bears and their behaviors can be so captivating that it is easy to forget the potential dangers of being in bear habitat. The bear you see in front of you may not be the only bear in your vicinity. The latter is especially true if you are photographing a cub in a tree. Being bear aware means looking around from time to time, and not spending too long with an individual animal. Make your images and move on.

2. Distance matters… Use a telephoto lens to photograph black bears in order to maintain a safe and respectful distance. Monitor the bear’s behavior and how it is viewing you. If the bear is spending more time watching you than eating, sleeping, or interacting with other bears, move on.

3. Learn bear behavior… Bears are bigger, faster, and stronger than humans. While 99% of North American bears are fearful of people and want nothing to do with us, an angry bear can cause serious bodily harm. Observe your bear subjects from a distance and have an exit plan for backing away from a bear that might become a bit too curious. Bears have poor sight but an amazingly acute sense of smell. It is not a threat when a bear stands on their hind legs, as this is how they survey the odors in their environment. On the other hand, when a bear begins to breath heavy and tense its muscles, it’s time to walk away and return to your car.

4. Bears are fast… Always bring a slower friend with you 🤣.

5. Finally, black bears have very dark fur. Photographing them can be a challenge. You will produce your best bear photographs on overcast days when the light is soft and free of shadows. The “soft box” of a cloudy sky will reduce the chance of photographing a bear that lacks details surrounded by highlights in the forest. Soft light allows you to expose for the fur on a bear’s body while reducing distractions throughout the image. When setting your meter, do not be surprised if you need to underexpose your reading by as much as 2 stops in order to render a black bear’s coat accurately.

Chillax’n in a Tree - Nikon Z9 and Nikon 800mm f/6.3PF

Late August through early October can be a great time to find a tubby Teddy. For those looking to make pictures of black bears, drive the back roads of public land, visit a national forest, or head out to one of the many National Parks throughout Canada and the US.

Two Tubby Teddy’s - Nikon Z8 and Nikon 400mm f/4.5S

All Rights Reserved. Copyright Bruce Leventhal and BTLeventhal.com

It's Not About the Money!

This week’s blog is inspired by an online conversation I am having with another photographer. My colleague and friend has been taking photos of nature for nearly a decade, and inquired about increasing his sales and profile in the field. I’ve found that many of my fellow nature shooters believe that their photographs are a commodity that has value and can be monetized. While making an income in photography is a legitimate career, the capacity to generate a sustainable salary has become increasingly difficult. During this discussion with my friend and others on a photography forum, I shared the following thoughts…

Albino Doe - MN

About 25 years ago, I almost left my career in teaching to become a professional nature photographer. I had been teaching for about 5 years and barely made $28K/yr, while my modest photography stock portfolio was making about $5k/year. I did the bare minimum for self promotion and marketing, and relied on a stock agency to market and profit from our shared relationship. I was pushing about 300 new pictures to the agent annually, and this averaged to about one photo for every roll of film shot. Because I was relatively uninvolved with the business side of things, I reasoned that if I spent less time preparing biology lessons, grading student work, and working 9 hour days, I'd have more time for photography, more time to write, and more time to cultivate a thriving nature imaging business.

Screech Owl Hiding in Plain Sight - TX

25 years later, I'm glad that I decided to play it safe and stick with my career as a teacher, feeding my passion for nature photography through avocation rather than vocation. When I was contemplating a career move, digital photography was an idea, something relegated government work and lab experiments, it was not a viable medium for photographic artistic expression. Prior to 2002, digital cameras were slow, produced low resolution files, and frightfully expensive. Furthermore, the internet was in its infancy, and images were not as free and easy to access as they are today.

Lake Superior - North Shore, MN

As has been discussed ad nauseam digital imagery and the expansion of the free World Wide Web killed the magazine and newspaper market, and thus destroyed many careers in photography. During the film era, Nature photography was a legitimate commodity because it required months to conceive an image and actually get a marketable shot. In the 1980’s I was doing research in the Pribilof Islands in Alaska, and was asked to document the landing of a thick-billed murre on its nest. I had access to a manual focus Nikon F2A and 500mm mirror lens to do the work. The set up took almost a day to conceive, and I needed to work from a blind to get the shot that I was seeking. Throughout the process, I shot multiple rolls of slide film, and most of the photos stunk for a wide variety of reasons. It is work and effort like this that made National Geographic Magazine a coveted keepsake, and their photographers treasures of the photo-journalistic world. In contrast to my efforts in the 80’s, I could fly to the Pribilof Islands today, and get the shot that took days in about 15 minutes (or less) with my current camera gear.

White Pelican - St. Croix River, MN

The photography we do used to be of great interest to magazine publishers, but with the easy access to exotic destinations (seems like everyone's gone to Svalbard these days), the better computer-based cameras, and less knowledge required to get a good picture, the images we make today are cheap and lack real monetary value. While the photos produced by nature photographers are better than ever, the pictures are essentially worthless. The real value in nature photography is in the experience of being there and enjoying the moment. The joy resides in making these images and recording a brief moment in time, while the experience is priceless. To put an exclamation mark on this thought, consider the following…

Coyote and a Mutual Surprise - St. Croix River, WI

I just lost my wife of 32 years to a neurodegenerative disease. She was 56 and I am 58. She enjoyed photography, nature travel, and wildlife as much as I do. We've been to Africa twice, Iceland twice, Costa Rica 10 times, throughout British Columbia and Alberta more times than I can remember. What sticks with me today is not the money I’ve made through publications, contests, or print sales; it is the memory of making the pictures with her, the solitude of these  moments, and the feeling of being one with nature.

Get out their and experience the light… bruce

©2000-2023 BTLeventhal.com / Bruce Leventhal. All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

Thinking about Creativity

At what point can wildlife and landscape photography become something more than documentary work? 

Were someone to evaluate my career and academic background, they’d likely conclude that I lean towards empiricism, objectivity, and certainty. Let’s face it, I’m a trained field ecologist and evolutionary biologists who enjoys statistical analysis. I am a fervent believer that nature has a stronger influence on life than nurture. I understand and embrace the role of DNA in gene expression, and how discrete environmental events can influence the way the genetic code impacts biology. I see the world clearly through a scientific lens. So, while I acknowledge my empirical cognitive frame, I also see myself as a creative.

Crow and its Kitchen Scraps - February 2023

Shapes in Alignment - January 2023

The popular view of science and scientists has been shaped by TV shows like “The Big Bang Theory” and “ Star Trek.” In each case, the scientists' are portrayed as quirky, logical, and unimaginative. The characters speak with a dogmatic cadence that borders on robotic, and appear to lack empathy. Emphasizing logic and objectivity, pop culture misses the essence of science; specifically, the creativity required to think differently. While the tools for science are engineered for precision, accuracy, and repetitive application, the questions we chase and the pursuit of answers are a purely creative endeavor. There is no programmed methodology for asking questions and making discoveries. In fact, the act of science looks more like play than anything else. Scientists are manipulators, they look for something to change, something perturb, or something to do differently. Beginning with “What if I…,”  they seek to push on the boundaries of what is known to find something new. Developing these questions and designing ways to test them are as creative as imagining a character in play or constructing an abstraction from reality. To learn from what we know is an objective frame of reference, to create an unknown from the known is leap into subjectivity, exploration, and creativity.

Reflective Sleep - July 2023

Into the Mist - June 2022

Nature photographers and their photography often suffer from the same perceptions that plague the scientific community. We are often portrayed as clinical and objective observers of reality who point the lens to document what is there. The field is fraught with technicians who obsess about optics, sensors, flash angles, and realism. While brute knowledge is useful, relying solely on knowledge limits the potential of a photograph to resonate with the viewer. Great nature photography is more than the skill to work the tools and subject. Great nature photography is about a story, and it is in the story where creativity resides. When the technician finds the strength to break the “rules” and envision something more than reality, their work has the power to evoke emotion and inspire the imagination. It is at this point when nature documentary begins to touch creativity.

Just a Moment, please - May 2022

©2000-2023 BTLeventhal.com / Bruce Leventhal. All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

The Mean Reds

Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s called them the “mean reds;” when you’re scared of something, and you don’t know what you’re scared of. Well, I’ve been haunted all week by the mean reds, and I finally figured out why.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that it is 11 weeks to the day since I lost my wife Tamy to the relentless neurodegenerative disease called Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. What’s more, today is the day I planned to visit Gooseberry Falls State Park along Minnesota’s North Shore. I booked lodging about a month ago with the goal of revisiting a place that was sacred to Tamy and I. Ever since buying our first pop-up trailer in 2012, we camped in or around the “The Falls” no fewer than twice a year. We’d drive around, find a tiny scrap of land near Lake Superior, and we’d make that spot home for a few days.

Luca watching Me watching Her : Nikon Z8 w/ 24-120 f4S

During sunrise and sunset we’d chase the sweet light, and then embrace the lazy life with our dogs in the middle of the day. Our biannual vigil to the North Shore continued after we lost our first doodle, Sequoia, as well as throughout Tamy’s gradual decline. In October 2021, we pointed our camper van north, and camped at Gooseberry for the last time.

Gooseberry has been a sacred place for us. We’ve bathed in the falls, slipped on its icy pools during the dead of winter, picnicked under the stars, and shared our dreams about a future together. It is no wonder that I have been experiencing the mean reds, and I fear that this feeling may persist for a while.

Autumn Day at Gooseberry Falls State Park

About the Pictures…

Image #1 was made today around 5:00 PM. This is the “Middle Falls,” and it is a location that Tamy and I always found to be photographically interesting.

Image #2 is Luca. Luca is the last dog standing, she is my remaining companion, and when I see and hug her, I feel like I am still with Tamy.

Image #3 is one of my favorite photographs of Tamy and our dogs Sequoia and Luca. Sequoia holds a special place in our hearts, as she was our first dog.

Copyright 2023, All Rights Reserved, Bruce Leventhal