Trumpeter Swans in the Storm

My day began with one of those timeless photographer questions, “Am I, or am I not, venturing out with my camera today? And today was about going out on a blustery autumn day, in the howling wind.

The internal debate, the what if? My what-if was shouting, “What if today is the day the migrating Trumpeter Swans are on the lake?” And so, I went.

I ventured out for two days, standing on the edge of a local lake last fall, leaning into a cold, relentless wind that never seemed to let up - watching and waiting in the kind of cold that works its way through every layer. I wasn’t even sure it would pay off.

Trumpeter Swans appear as specks bobbing up and down in the whitecaps.

Eventually, I spy something off in the distance!  Ah ha, several Trumpeter Swans! Bobbing up and down in the grey, choppy water, on the far side of the lake, completely at ease in conditions that had me shivering on the shore.

Still, I waited, and waited, and wandered around, until finally I saw shapes coming my way in the stormy sky, closer and closer, and touchdown! And I watch until I hear their familiar trumpeting, and see their head and necks bobbing, indicating a likely take-off.

Here they go, paying little heed to the smack of white caps barely interfering with the lift off.

The Trumpeter Swans are heading over the whitecaps and into the wind as they take flight.

But that’s not what stayed with me.

Trumpeter Swans come my way.

Sometimes it’s not about the image, it’s something deeper.

It’s about being there, the experience.

It’s the feeling and the memory of the blustery wind that had me shivering for two days. The whitecaps on the water, the exhilaration of being out in the elements, and the contentment with nature as my companion. The kind of moment that lives on long after I return home, and put my camera down.

Nikon Z6iii, Sigma 150-600mm lens: f/6.3, 1/2000, ISO 1250, and f/6.3, 1/3200, ISO 1250.