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24 Hours in the Swamp

The Sentinel after a spring rain – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

I know I go on and on about how important our swamps and wetlands are for the hydrology of our southern states, but they’re also one of the best places for wildlife and adventure in what’s left of our lowcountry wilderness. This month I took two friends, Darrin Hamlin and Van Whitehead from the mountains and brought them into the heart of old growth swamp within the Francis Beidler Forest to slog and explore. We met up with Audubon naturalist Rickey Covey on the second day and I promised Darrin, a dedicated waterfall seeker, that before the trip was over he’d understand why these habitats are my bread and butter. The swamp did not disappoint.

Here’s what we discovered in just 24 hours:

From left to right, Van Whitehead, Mac Stone, and Darrin Hamlin around the “Sentinel”

My first goal was to find the “Sentinel” which is one of the Beidler Forest’s largest cypress trees. Scientists estimate this tree to be around 1200-1400 years old. You might recognize the tree from our Swamp Stomp video a few years ago. Since the interior is hollow, it’s impossible to get an accurate age. Still, the way this tree dominates the forest lets you know it’s been anchored here for a very long time.

Nurse log – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

The spring is my favorite time to explore Beidler Forest. The greens are electric, the canopy is full of sound from songbirds and owls, and the water flows, leaving little room for mosquitoes to breed.

Emerging dragonfly – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Tupelo – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

On this trip I used my 50mm f/1.4 for several landscapes to help isolate certain subjects. Normally, this would make the small ripples in the water to actually add extra noise to the image, but I added 9 stops of neutral density to get the slow speeds while maintaining shallow depth.

Tupelo and Cypress Island – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Darrin Hamlin slogs through one of the main sloughs – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Cypress sapling and Cypress Knee Window – Photo © Mac Stone

Brown Water Snake – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

After the first night we looked at our maps and decided to head back further into the old growth swamp, getting into the deeper sloughs and exploring some of the more remote sections of Beidler Forest. We left at first light and got into some gorgeous sections of the swamp. While walking through one of the upland islands, we came across this mysterious feature.

Hog bed – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

I have never seen one of these before, but as soon as we approached the woven bed of palmettos, 6 piglets scurried across the ground. I had no idea that their parents put this much effort into their babies.

Piglets – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Finally, the much anticipated rains let loose and the swamp came alive. Everything became more saturated and I hurried along with my camera like a kid in a candy shop. There is nothing more magical than photographing in an old growth swamp beneath a spring rain.

The Rains – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Cypress Knee – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Greenish Rat Snake – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Whitetail Deer Fawn – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Old Growth – Francis Beidler Forest – Photo © Mac Stone

Only 24 hours and we experienced all this beauty and wilderness. To think, most people associate swamps with a slew of negative adjectives. The highlight of the trip for me was after stumbling upon the whitetail deer fawn and Darrin turns to me and says, “Mac, I’ve seen more wildlife in the two days I’ve been here with you than I have in 10 years in the mountains.”

Long live the swamp.

May 26, 2013 | Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment

NANPA High School Scholarship Program

From left to right: Lione Clare, Tim Harding, David Moynahan, Sophie Harrison, Mark Kreider, Larkin Keys, Missy McDonough, Ray Pfortner, Avery Locklear, Carolyn Derrington-Tate, Victoria Cruz, Jenaya Launstein, Mac Stone

The North American Nature Photography Association annual summit was a success this year in Jacksonville, Florida. As always, it was an incredible experience and great to see old friends and a fresh batch of high school scholarship students. This year I was lucky enough to be chair of the scholarship program which is really great considering that 11 years ago it was me who was one of the students attending the summit in Albuquerque, New Mexico. What a full circle!

NANPA High School students around a fire on Cumberland Island

As chair of the program, I wanted to mix things up a bit and try something new. In years past, we would stay at the summit hotel then make day trips out to various locations to shoot. Since I was so familiar with the area already, I knew there was a great opportunity to actually spend a few nights out in the field, camping with the kids and really focusing on making images from dawn to dusk and well into the night. First, though, was assembling a team of instructors: Ray Pfortner, David Moynahan, and Carolyn Derrington-Tate. Along with a solid team, we had great sponsorships this year from Canon, Wimberley, Manfrotto/Bogen, Delkin, and Hunts Photo and Video.

Victoria Cruz runs through a tidal pond on Cumberland Island while photographing wild marsh tackies

While camping, we had our fair share of obstacles. The weather was not cooperating and it poured for the first day and a half. Still, the kids kept their positivity and thrived in the less than optimal conditions. We ate delicious meals around a blazing campfire, chased wild horses around the tidal marshes, and braved the winds and sands of Cumberland Island’s coastline. The images the students made were absolutely stunning and they all have a bright future ahead of them.

Victoria Cruz, Lione Clare, and Sophie Harrison photograph wild horses on Cumberland Island

After the full week of photography, workshops, and keynotes, the students had a chance to showcase their images to more than 400 photographers on the last evening just before Art Wolfe gave his lifetime achievement speech. The students had 15 minutes to present their work and here is the video of that speech. I can’t tell you how proud I am to have spent a week with this brilliant individuals.

NANPA High School Scholarship Program Slideshow from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

April 4, 2013 | Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Cangrejal River – Bejuco Waterfall – Honduras

If you haven’t been following along on my Facebook Page, then you missed out on a fun 2-week blog-style story. No problem, though, I’ll share the love here too.

Along the Cangrejal River in Honduras is a lush wall of tropical forest at the border of Pico Bonito National Park. Cascading down from one of the verdant cliffs is a massive waterfall called Bejuco Falls. While living in the small town of Las Mangas, a friend and I set out to explore the primary forests and hike up an unmapped trail of the waterfall system, into the heart of the national forest.

The journey begins in the basin of the Cangrejal River. On either side, the Nombre de Dios and Pico Bonito tropical forests hug the river, providing a biological paradise of many endangered species and incredible vistas. My friend Jonathan Zoba and I set out to explore these forests and transect the Bejuco Waterfall which drops 150ft from primary forest into the river below.

I wanted to do this not only for the sake of adventure, but to chase a certain photo I had envisioned for over a year. This series of photos will bring you into that world and show you some of the beautiful landscapes, the dangerous situations, and the eventual payoffs for what would be an unforgettable trip.

When planning for this trip, the first thing we had to consider was seasonality. If we were hiking up a waterfall system on top of a mountain, the last thing we wanted would be a flash flood that could wipe us off the trail, or disconnect us from getting back home. So we waited until the height of the dry season where we could more easily climb waterfalls and push into the forest.

In the wet season, just a day of rain is enough to turn a peaceful river into a raging torrent, destroying everything in its path. If you look closely in the image above, you can see two people atop the granite for scale. This is the Cangrejal River, where Bejuco waterfall pours into.

When the water levels dropped low enough, Jonathan and I packed up our gear and hitchhiked on the back of a vegetable truck winding down the river road. Soon the small farms and bean plantations disappeared, gradually replaced by primary tropical forest as we neared Pico Bonito National Park. We were heading into one of the most ecologically diverse habitats of Honduras, attempting to transect a mountain without trail or maps. Luckily there were plenty of other signs along the way that showed us we were headed in the right direction.

Into the National Park, the canopy floor was thick with colorful vegetation of all kinds. We managed to gather some of these small palm nuts which taste like miniature coconuts. We had a couple of hours before we would make it up and down the dense ridges to arrive at the base of the waterfall.

We finally made it to the base of Bejuco Falls, and then looked up to the top where the water was spouting out like a massive jungle faucet. So, we started bushwhacking up the ridge of the mountain at an incredibly steep angle, holding onto whatever small trees and vines we could for secure grounding. Light was fading fast in the late afternoon and we were determined to get to the top before dusk to set up camp and build a fire.

When we got to the top, the sun was setting and clouds started moving in through the canopy. We were a little worried because our plan for camp was to stay right next to the waterfall’s source. If it rained, this could be a big problem. The clouds were temporary though, and pushed through. Jonathan and I found a spot right next to the waterfall and set up our camp. The adventure was the thought of what was ahead, along that tropical jungle mountain stream. We had no idea what to expect. That night, I set out the gear and began to figure the logistics for an image I’ve been envisioning over a year. First, though, we would need to make a fire and put some hot food in our stomachs.

For those of you who know me, and those that have camped with me, know that – besides my camera gear – I like to pack light. Primitive camping is the way to go when on a trek so while doing the transect, Jonathan and I decided to go with hammocks to keep us off the potentially wet ground. Here’s an invaluable camping tip… for a stove, we just brought a can of beans and ate them first thing and opened the can only halfway to have a top. Then, we cooked any noodles and boiled water inside just by sticking it in a fire. Easy! Sure, it gets a little charred and nasty on the outside, but inside is pure flavor.

And then we wake up to this. Atop Bejuco Waterfall looking down on the Cangrejal River, Jonathan Zoba takes in the “cuenca” or watershed. We brought climbing rope for safety issues along the unknown trek and also for a photo I had been envisioning for more than a year. This is just the beginning!

After a solid breakfast we started our trek, up the creek bed. After only a few minutes of hiking we came to our first unnamed waterfall and subsequently, our first obstacle as we wanted to continue hiking into the primary forest. Here, Jonathan and I are assessing whether or not to try and climb the slippery rocks, or to just find an alternate route. Little did we know, but this would be the first of many to come. And since it was an unnamed waterfall, we decided to call it “Tamagas Falls,” for what happened next..

Deciding not to risk a major injury so early on by climbing the waterfall, we skirted the edge and started climbing up the ridge. It was extremely steep, so we committed fully to each step grabbing at the ground and understory and lunging forward trying not to lose momentum. Hurrying is a dangerous game and it almost cost me dearly when I reached forward and came inches from setting my hand on this jumping viper. When my eyes saw the coiled form just in time, I reeled back and nearly slipped down the side of the mountain.

Can you see it?

These pit vipers are called “tamagas” by the locals and is a general term in Honduras to describe many different venomous snakes. As remote as we were, a bite on the hand could have very well been fatal. I don’t think I would have seen it in time had I not spent several years exploring the forests and slowly calibrating my eyes. I got really lucky on this one, and we pushed onward paying a little more attention to the ground beneath us.

Once we made it past the Tamagas and the first waterfall, we came to a series of small waterfalls and rock outcroppings. The trail was almost entirely water and with minimal supplies, we were able to cover some serious ground. For my camera gear, I took a medium-sized daypack because it was top-loading, and then stuck a dry bag inside with towels for padding. That way my camera was accessible and I didn’t miss a beat when Jonathan was doing something awesome like this. When we came over the top of these small waterfalls, the view was absolutely incredible.

Coming up over the last small waterfall, my head peaked over a boulder and I saw this. A massive opening in the canopy and a long trail of falling water disappeared into the forest. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It’s hard to translate the scale here, but imagine the first boulder in the foreground as tall as I am (which is like, giant massive). We tried to climb all the way to the topit became too steep and slick, so we headed back into the dense forest for an alternate route. We came to a cliff about 25 feet high and saw no way of getting around it until we noticed a vine dangling from the branches of a nearby tree. Assuming its strength, we started climbing. We would later call this waterfall “Broken Vine.”

After a near fateful fall off Broken Vine, we got to the top and continued onward. We heard howler monkeys, saw plenty of tracks, and also found this green parrot snake. Only mildly venomous, and not really harmful to humans, I wasn’t too afraid of handling it for a photo.

Heading further into the forest the trees got bigger and the hand of man disappeared entirely. At these heights and depths, the massive cedars, san juans, and mahogany trees were left untouched. At the lower elevations and surrounding the national park slash and burn agriculture is rampant. It was great to come to the next waterfall and see this massive san juan stretched across the basin almost completely intact, serving as a nurse log for the next generation. At this point, the sun started getting low and we were far from camp. We decided to keep pushing onward, but a little nervous about coming down the mountain in the dark, especially after the jumping viper incident.

As we pushed forward we found a good spot for an early dinner and a quick swim in a waterfall pool. By that time we really needed it. For our dinner, we simply found some kindling, made a fire, and stuck our cooking can on top, boiling water from the creek with dried noodles; couldn’t be easier. About this time once we each drank our fill of water, ate dinner, and arrived at the last waterfall, we decided it was time to head back to base camp. We considered sleeping there for the night and continuing onward in the morning, but I had a photograph in mind that was gnawing at me, and I had to be back at Bejuco for it. So, we headed back through the night, down the mountain.

Well, we pushed it as far as we could while we still had light. The last waterfall we climbed was merely a trickle and provided a natural clearing for a wonderful view of the tropical canopy. Even though I was hesitant to go back to camp, I was really excited for sunrise to attempt the iconic image that brought me up this mountain in the first place. Bombing down the way we came up, we made quick work descending the waterfall trail. There was barely a shred of light when we arrived at Tamagas Falls, and sure enough, the jumping viper was still coiled up in his same spot. We felt lucky to have made it back to the base camp, and we built a fire and celebrated our day with a warm cup of noodles. The morning would bring one of the most memorable sunrises I’ve ever seen.

After a much-needed deep sleep on top of Bejuco Waterfall, I awoke to this. Beautiful predawn light spilled over the cuenca and dappled on the waterfall which plunged some 150 feet into the tropical forest below. In the distance the Cangrejal River meandered with its bleached white granite boulders lining the shores. It was an incredible sight and I made a few images, but they didn’t quite capture the scene as I wanted. And I guess I lied a little. I didn’t wake up to this. It would be more correct to say that I woke up two hours before this scene to start setting up for a different image, one that I had been dreaming about for over a year. It would be dangerous, perhaps foolish, as I would soon find out, but ambition and caution don’t always make the best couple.

It was a crazy idea but I knew it could work if we just planned it out thoroughly. I wanted to rappel halfway down the waterfall and photograph it cascading down the mountain as the sun crested the Nombre de Dios mountain range. Photographically, this would be a difficult image. I needed stability for slow shutter speeds and high depth, so I brought a tripod which I tied to the line. There would be a big difference between the light areas and the dark areas of the frame so I brought gradual neutral density filters to balance the exposure. Then there’s the technical aspect of rappelling down a 150-foot waterfall.

Well, at least everyone told us it was 150-feet. Since we were in Honduras and I didn’t have my climbing gear with me (this country is not known for its climbing), I needed to borrow equipment. When borrowing equipment that your life will depend on, you need to know with 100% certainty that gear is dependable. I found a friend who I knew took care of his gear and he loaned me two harnesses, rope, and carabiners. With a 180 feet of rope, the plan was to rappel down the waterfall, make the image, and then meet up with Jonathan at the base to head home. It was a good plan, but is not what happened.

When I cleared the first large bump of the cliff’s facade, some thirty feet down I realized that the end of the rope was dangling, not touching the ground. Bejuco was much taller than 150 feet and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by the visceral fear of how I would get out of this jam. I couldn’t go down, the sun would soon be up, and the rock face was too slippery and loaded with vegetation to climb. Shit. So much for a solid plan. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to leave this cliff face without the photo I came for.

After all the mishaps, adventure, and discovery, this was the best possible way I could imagine to finish the Bejuco Mega Transect. I had been dreaming about making this image for a long time and as you all know by now, there were many obstacles standing in the way, which made capturing it all that much sweeter. Bejuco waterfall is one of the last sources of clean water supplied to the Cangrejal River before it empties out in the Caribbean. The relationship between healthy tropical mountains and the precious lifeblood of water can never be understated in this area and this image would be my homage to that age-old bond.

Kicking out horizontally from the cliff’s face, I extended my tripod legs to form a monopod and gripped the camera tightly with one hand while positioning the grad ND filter with the other. It was tricky.

Looking down some 150 feet at the pristine jungle water crashing on the boulders below, it took a lot of focus to give the proper attention to the image before thinking about climbing to safety. I soaked up the scene for a good twenty minutes before I found a solution, since going down was no longer an option.

I was lucky enough to bring some extra climbing-grade cordage with me to hold my tripod and the camera while rappelling down. Since down meant death, I had to go up. I fashioned two Prusik knots with the extra rope and made big loops where I could stick my feet. Then, slowly but surely, I ascended the rope the old-fashioned way, inch by inch, using the friction of the knots to hold my weight on the main rope. I felt foolish to have been in that situation but never happier than when I reached solid ground and saw Jonathan standing wide-eyed. We hugged it out in true bromance fashion, and he howled when I showed him this image. What do you think, was it worth it?

For me, without the story, the image is often one-dimensional. I hope you enjoyed the journey. It was an incredible three days and one of the most memorable adventures I’ve ever lived. Of course, we still had to get down from the mountain and hike back to Las Mangas some twelve miles from where we were. Despite all the close calls, it’s only appropriate that it would be the return where something bad finally happened.

I’ve always heard and believed that when on a long hiking trip, there’s nothing worse than wet boots. Well, I proved that old adage wrong pretty quick. It is much worse to have to hike back 12 miles after lacerating your foot because you’re hiking in sandals.

This happened when coming down from the waterfall and a loose rock rolled down the hill and slammed into my ankle. I tried duct-taping it shut but it wouldn’t stick so instead of dressing it properly, while I still had adrenaline pumping I just started running down the mountain. By the time I got to the bottom it was excruciatingly painful.

At the trail head, I hitched a ride with a school bus and they made me stand in the doorway so I wouldn’t track blood everywhere.

Fortunately, I made it back to Las Mangas in time to clean up the wound. There was only a mild infection and I still have a nice scar to remind me to hike a little more staggered from my uphill friends in the future.

March 17, 2013 | Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Sandhill Cranes – Mycotoxins

In an ecosystem rife with bobcats, coyotes, alligators, vultures and snakes, it’s rare to see a dead animal without any apparent wounds. So when I stumbled on this scene in Kanapaha Prairie I asked myself, what could have done this? I recently posed this same question to a group of fans on my Facebook page and surprisingly, two of them had the right answer.

Sandhill cranes fly over Kanapaha Prairie – Gainesville, FL – Photo ©Mac Stone

The sandhill cranes’ arrival in Florida is the sure sign of winter. They come in with the staccato trumpet calls that pierce the morning air and echo through the prairie’s live oak rim. Their migratory populations have ebbed and flowed over the years on the prairie, some years with over 1,500 individuals and other years only a few dozen. There doesn’t seem to be a solid explanation for this, but some believe its due to the amount of dog fennel that grows up to 6 feet high and gives the cranes a natural barrier from potential predators like coyotes and bobcats. Without the vegetation, they simply pass over the prairie and onto greener pastures.

Sandhill cranes at sunrise on Kanapaha Prairie – Photo ©Mac Stone

One of my favorite things in the winter is to go out and photograph the sandhills at sunrise. When polar fog exhales from the wetlands, their silhouettes dot the horizon and make for some great images. On these mornings though, I’m not the only one stalking birds. If sandhills usher in the day with their calls, then coyotes are the denizens of the night. Their mad cackling can be heard from a mile away and I can’t help but wonder while I’m sitting around the backyard fire, what they’re howling about. No matter how close they sound, every time I go looking for them they’re nowhere to be found. After their raucous nights, though, I’m always certain to find the remains of their prey in a cloud of feathers on the cold prairie floor.

A lone coyote stalks a flock of sandhill cranes on Kanahapa Prairie – Photo ©Mac Stone

So it was curious to me, the morning I stumbled upon the dead sandhill, left untouched. Then I started replaying the previous day’s events and images, and I knew the answer immediately. Out of the flock of cranes I had been photographing the day before, when all others flew away as I approached, there was one crane who stuck around. At first it looked like it had an injured wing as it fumbled about, hopelessly attempting to fly.

Sandhill crane infected by mycotoxin, fusariotoxin – Kanahapa Prairie – Photo ©Mac Stone

Not wanting to stress the bird or cause it any more pain if its wing really was injured, I stayed back and watched it for a while. It was really sad to watch. The crane would call out to its flock in a broken shrill and the others didn’t respond. It’s limp neck eventually lost all mobility and hung low as if paralyzed. In the deeper water, it could barely keep its beak high enough to breathe. I apologize for the graphic photos.

Sandhill crane infected by mycotoxin, fusariotoxin – Kanahapa Prairie – Photo ©Mac Stone

Finally, I wrote it off as a strange injury and went home knowing it would soon turn into food for the prairie. The next morning when I saw the sandhill laying dead in the water where I saw it yesterday, I wondered how long through the night it suffered, as this was almost certainly the same bird. The images of its broken body were hauntingly fresh in my mind, so I did some research to see if anyone else had documented this behavior. What I found was alarming.

According to the National Wildlife Heath Center, this paralysis and eventual death is caused by a toxin produced by a fungus found in corn and peanuts, called mycotoxin, or more specifically, fusariotoxin. Fusariotoxin will cause a flaccid paralyses of the neck and wing muscles as well as neurological damange. Wild migratory waterfowl like cranes poisoned by this fungus have thus far only been documented in Texas and New Mexico from contaminated grain fields. Cranes can ingest the fungus while foraging during low temperatures when other food sources are unavailable. Who’s to say where the bad corn or peanuts were eaten; it could have been in Georgia a few weeks prior. According to biologists, there are about 300 cases in Florida each year, but this series of photos is the only ones I could find in Florida, although I’ve seen this condition twice on Kanapaha Prairie alone (if there are other accounts of this in Florida, please let me know in the comment section below).

Thanks for reading. If you’d like to read up a little more on this strange condition, click here, or here. Also, as a side note, I did not do an autopsy on the bird, so for scientific purposes I have to say that based on my field observations alone, I put mycotoxins as the probable cause of death.

Sandhill crane, probable cause of death: mycotoxins from molded grains – Kanahapa Prairie – Photo ©Mac Stone

January 20, 2013 | Categories: Florida, fusariotoxin, Gainesville, kanapaha prairie, limp neck, mycotoxin, Sandhill crane | 12 Comments

The Shadow of Superman

Larry Heaton conquers Savage Mountain in Orlando, Florida – August 2011

As long as I can remember, every year my family traveled up to Virginia for Thanksgiving to visit our cousins, uncles, and grandparents. It was always a big celebration lasting 4 or 5 days, with no one wanting to go home at the end. Our family is tight. From the oldest cousin to the youngest, we are a band of brothers. When all the ten male cousins were younger we would play a big game of tackle football which we called the Gravy Bowl. It was the highlight of the year. I dreaded the plays where Larry, my uncle, got the ball. His 6’7” 245lb frame would barrel down the field and my only hope to stop the touchdown was to jump on his back and dangle from his neck until the ground rumbled with his fall. Sure, he could have carried me with his free arm while hurdling the other eager cousins if he wanted to, but he played along and gifted me the glory instead.

Larry always did that. He loved letting other people shine and even when he wasn’t extending any uncommon courtesies, it just felt good to be around him. I looked forward to our fireside chats every year. He would recount his latest adventure in humble tones, passing off such mountainous hurdles like summiting Mt Rainier or whittling away at the Appalachien Trail while carrying large rocks in his pack, as if they were mere tasks on a to-do list. There’s a wall in the Heaton house that is littered with medals and artifacts of his adventures and when old enough, his sons, Daniel and Matt came with him.

At 55 years old, this past November, my uncle Larry had just completed an ultramarathon. He ran 55 miles from 8:00 in the morning until 1:30 the next morning, only resting for twenty minutes. When I asked him what kept him going, he said that for each mile, he recalled each year of his life and relived the miles of memories with his high school sweetheart Betty, his sons, work, and friends. His commanding presence and brick build were secondary only to his fortitude as a person.

Larry’s motto in both personal and business life was simple: “Leave on a good one.” Don’t walk out of the room, come off the mountain, or turn the light off before knowing you had given the day your best.

Only two weeks after we all held hands and said a blessing for the future of family over Thanksgiving, Larry died in a car accident. Hundreds attended his funeral; so many that they had to set up televisions in the basement of the church he helped build so other friends could watch the service. People traveled from all over the country to pay their respects.

I realize now, that as I grew up, my childish adoration and reverence for Larry never really matured. I always felt physically and emotionally adolescent next to him, but in a way that made me want to push harder, so I too would have something to talk about when we sat by the fire.

I will forever remember him as the mountain who conquered mountains and the Superman who proved to the world that a body is merely a vehicle for great things.

Larry with family Daniel, Betty, and Matt Heaton at Thanksgiving in Collinsville, VA – November 2012

January 7, 2013 | Categories: Larry Heaton, Leave on a good one, Superman, Virginia | 13 Comments

Garden and Gun Shoot – American Grocery – Greenville, SC

It’s funny to me when talking to my friends in Tennessee and South Carolina how they write Florida off from the confederation of southern states. To many, Florida is the vestigial appendage that doesn’t quite fit in with the others. There’s probably some truth to that with all the northerners who have come down in their later years, but I always took a little offense. With latitude aside, I grew up with Southern Living magazine on our coffee table, bronze pineapples on the front door which I would always hold open for my mom or any other females that walked through, and I’m pretty sure there were a few monogramed towels laying around the house as well. So why weren’t we part of southern club?

Sure, there’s some dirty history with the South, but there’s also a lot of rich culture and tradition so I felt a little shafted knowing I was left out of that group. Then, miraculously, in 2007 a magazine called Garden & Gun hit the newsstands, highlighting southern culture from Virginia to the Bahamas, including Florida, and we were all suddenly part of the same coalition of states that reveled in food-coma-inducing cuisine, outdoor recreation, and bootleg culture. I loved this magazine, maybe in part because it venerated me but also because that southern pride showed through every aspect of the publication. With heavy stock pages, beautiful photography, and soulful writing, Garden & Gun quickly became one of the hottest magazines in the US during their first year.

From that moment on, I’ve always wanted to shoot for Garden and Gun. Their stories are compelling, the imagery iconic and original and their pages swell with pride for this intangible thing we all call southern. A few weeks ago I finally had a chance to lend my camera to their magazine and I’m hoping this will just be the start to a long lasting relationship. Here are a few photos from the shoot at American Grocery during the Harvest Dinner in Greenville, South Carolina. For more images, though, you can go to the website and browse the event here: Autumnal Harvest Dinner

In terms of photography, it was a tough shoot. Low light and lots of movement made the event difficult to cover. I managed though with two camera bodies: Canon 5d mkii and Canon 7d. One of the bodies worked a 50mm f/1.4 and the other a 70-200mm f/2.8, an overall good combination for these sort of shoots. I also used a strobe to add fill by bouncing off the ceiling. While certainly it’s a break from the normal natural history images, it’s fun to keep the creative brain fresh and challenged and hopefully this event will lead to something bigger. You just never know.

December 17, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Everglades Keynote – Miami Beach

Skimmers at Sunset – Everglades National Park – ©Mac Stone

If you’re in the South Florida area on Wednesday November 28th, join me and Audubon in Miami Beach for a wonderful evening of food, wine, and photography, which is always a winning combination. I’ll be giving a keynote on Everglades conservation and the work Audubon has been doing to protect one of our national treasures.

For more information and to reserve your spot, follow the link: Mac Stone Everglades Keynote Invite

November 26, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Savage Race – Little Everglades Ranch

Well, the boys at Savage Race have done it again. Each event has eclipsed the last and on October 20th at Little Everglades Ranch in Dade City, Florida, they proved to 4,000 adrenaline junkies that they’re the official peddlers of pain in the mud race community. In a span of only six miles they built 25 brutal obstacles including the three-story “Colossus,” a twisted half pipe which leads to a swallow-your-stomach water slide and the innovative “Evil Bars,” which is the silverback gorilla to other races’ playground jungle gyms.

Starting line stampede – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Again this year, I was assigned to shoot the race and was stoked to know the participants would be slogging through a mini version of my favorite stomping grounds, the Everglades. As always, it was a tough shoot accounting for a large area, harsh light, and of course, high intensity mud-slinging. All throughout the day I was climbing atop obstacles, chest-deep in water, or waist deep in mud. By the end I felt like I had run the race several times over.

Walkers on the “Nutt Smasher” – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

My approach to shooting these events is to make sure I get right in the middle of the action, or sometimes right below it. I’ve found that if I’m not physically engaged with course, then my photos will feel detached too. This philosophy can be dangerous for equipment, but much like wildlife photography, the safest option usually produces “safe” images and the Savage Race crew wanted edgy. So I tried to give them edgy.

Diving over the fire pit – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Here’s a handful of some of my favorites from the day as well as a few shots just to show you some of the obstacles. If you’re into mud races and a day of fun with your friends, then you need to go and register for one of their upcoming events. Savage Race is creating the new standard for obstacle racing.

Starting line – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Hay Stacks – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Championing the Hay Stacks – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Captain America helping a friend up “Colossus” – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Nutt Smasher – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Not quite up the Colossus – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Grinding the Evil Bars – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Colossus half pipe – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Tazed N Blazed – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Gettin Tazed N Blazed – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Priceless face before getting shocked – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Fire jump – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Evil Bars – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Shriveled Richard – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Colossus – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Scaling the 96” Stiffie – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Nuff said – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Greg Stone hangin on the Evil Bars – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Davy Jones’ Locker – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Backflip off Davy Jones’ Locker – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Savage Race founder Sam Abbitt trying his Wicked Bars – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

Air Force team looking for their keys – Photo ©Savage Race/Mac Stone

And my favorite photo of the race: the Air Force team breaking into their own car to get their keys out.

November 11, 2012 | Categories: Adventure, Little Everglades Ranch, Mac Stone, Mud, Mud Run, Savage Race | 1 Comment

Election Day

Presidential overthrow march – Lucio Gutierrez – Quito, Ecuador – 2005 – Photo © Mac Stone

Seven years ago in Ecuador I watched as Quito fell apart during a violent presidential overthrow. Molotov cocktails rained from the sky and buses burned in the street. It was a terribly sad time. Friends of mine were rushed to the hospital

after getting hit by tear gas bombs and the citizens of Quito lost all faith that democracy was on their side.

On election day, I always think back to this experience and how grateful I feel for America’s order, conduct, and civility towards the sacred right of voting. For everyone caught up in the seemingly endless upheaval and turmoil of divisive politics, remember that we’re all Americans and entitled to our own view of how our country should be run. Diversity on all levels is what makes this country great. Embrace the process and your friends or family who might share opposing views because no matter the outcome we’ll wake up tomorrow and still need to share the streets, restaurants, and this beautiful country together.

Margie Boyd – A Bar A Ranch – Wyoming – Photo © Mac Stone

November 6, 2012 | Categories: Ecuador, Election, Lucio Gutierrez, Riot | 1 Comment

Scary Things…

Cottonmouth – Big Cypress National Preserve – Photo © Mac Stone

We all have things, or maybe ideas rather, that crawl under our skin and cause our heart to beat a little faster. I have a few friends who are absolutely terrified of snakes. In fact, just looking at this photo above makes them extremely uncomfortable. One friend told me “Mac, I mean this in the nicest way, but I hate this (photo).” I’ve never had this sort of visceral fear of anything tangible, that I can think of. I love snakes, insects, alligators, and all that creepy crawly and squishy stuff. I’m more afraid of situations or of the idea that I’m not in control. Maybe some of you have this too, but I’ve always been afraid when standing atop tall buildings or bridges that my alter ego is going to rise up and make me jump. This is the same dark side that starts to itch when police walk by and a part of me feels the urge to grab their gun and say, “ha ha, just kidding.” Does this happen to anyone else? Weird.

Well, if you’re one of the people terrified of images of snakes and alligators and other denizens of the swamp, then this next part isn’t for you. For the next two months I’ll have 12 large format canvas prints on exhibit at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary in Naples, Florida. Running from November 5th until the end of December I’ll be displaying and selling these prints which highlight the Everglades watershed and its many landscapes and fauna. Go check it out if you have the chance, because I will be unveiling a few images which I’ve never displayed to the public. If you’re wanting to jump on the Christmas shopping early, head to the swamp because the canvas prints at 2 ft x 3ft are on sale with part of the proceeds going to Audubon’s beautiful Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. What does a 2ft x 3ft gallery wrapped canvas look like? Well, I’m glad you asked…

November 1, 2012 | Categories: Canvas print, Cottonmouth, Water moccasin | 2 Comments

Get Low

“Edge of the World” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park

It’s easy to get stuck in a rut with photography. After your 500,000th image, it might feel like you’ve done it all before. Luckily though, it’s often just as easy to break out and explore new possibilities by simply changing your perspective. I get inspiration from other photographers all the time. In fact, it’s part of my daily routine to research other artists and see what they’re doing. One photographer in particular, John Spohrer, based out of Apalachicola, Florida would create these arrestingly dramatic images by shooting a low angle on water. Simple, right? This isn’t necessarily an Einstein moment but this technique is often overlooked by photographers. When applied in the right situations, it can completely alter the depth and feel of your images.

Take this scene for example. To me, this is a standard one-dimensional view of a summer squall in Florida Bay. You have some water, you have some storm clouds, all of which seem to appear on the same visual plane. While this image might be good for an advertisement or calendar, to me, I’m not moved to feel anything when I look at it.

Holding my camera just above the water’s edge over the boat with a wide angle lens (Canon 16-35mm) and employing fast shutter speeds by means of high ISO I made a series of images without looking through the viewfinder. Only an inch above the water, this proved a little dangerous as a rogue wave lapped the base of my camera. Not good. Still, I was able to make a few frames from this new perspective. What resulted was this very multi-dimensional image which gives a turbulent and almost apocalyptic aura. The way the water eliminates the horizon creates a sense of impending doom, like Columbus must have imagined when sailing towards the edge of the Earth. All I had to do was hold my camera close to the water.

Here are a few more dualities so you can see the benefit of simply changing your perspective. To me, the lower angles just have a way of filling the space more efficiently. Take note how your eyes want to linger a little more. Who knows though, maybe you’ll like the standard images better. I’m curious to hear what you think.

With the low angle, you get much more action and interesting patterns in the water from reflected light. This way, the water doesn’t just become empty space, but instead helps define and draw your eye into the subject.

October 25, 2012 | Categories: Everglades, Florida Bay, Mac Stone, Mangrove, Photography | Leave a comment

NANPA High School Scholarship Program

A year ago I wrote about the NANPA High School Scholarship Program which was held in McAllen, Texas where ten students were chosen from all around the country to attend one of the most prestigious photography summits in the US. If you missed it, you can read about it here.

In February of next year, 10 more lucky students will have the chance to attend NANPA’s fourteenth high school scholarship program for a chance to learn from the industry’s top shooters and photography publishers. I’m extremely excited to announce that I will be taking over as chair of this program and will be joined by instructors Ray Pfortner, David Moynahan, and Marina Scarr in Jacksonville, Florida. Only ten years ago, I was one of the fortunate few selected for this program in Albuquerque New Mexico and I can’t begin to count the ways it has shaped my life. Now, here I am about to take lead on cultivating the next generation of nature photographers in my home state!

We are seeking talent from all over, so if you know of any high schoolers or students 14-18 years old with a passion for photography please send them this invitation. You never know how it might shape their lives.

October 10, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Pretty in Pink

The spoonbill saga continues. I just went down to the Keys for a week to train the new head of spoonbill research at the Tavernier Science Center. When I walked in the office, Dr. Jerry Lorenz handed me a book from Bearport Publishing. I completely forgot I submitted images nearly 6 months ago on this project and here it was, printed, bound, and ready for distribution.

The author, Stephen Person, contacted me early this year to help collaborate on a children’s book about the roseate spoonbill and the work we did with National Audubon and the Tavernier Science Center. Jerry helped with the text and while it has the illustrative feel and design of a children’s book, it’s actually incredibly informative about the Everglades ecosystem and the lives of these beautiful birds. If you have a child who needs a good book this Christmas, give this one a shot. You can tell them you know one of the photographers!

You can find it here on Amazon: Roseate Spoonbill, Pretty in Pink

October 9, 2012 | Categories: Mac Stone, Photography, Roseate spoonbill | 3 Comments

Caption Contest on Facebook

“Bird statue. Bird statue. Nothing happening here; just move along” – Lynnie Raybuck (Wednesday Sept 13th winner)

Sorry for my absence on the blog but I’ve been giving more attention lately to my other neglected child: Facebook. If you haven’t logged on to find the fan page where I post almost daily images then you’re missing out. Here’s the link: Facebook Fan Page

This week I’ve been posting various bird images and opening up the comment section to visitors to submit their most clever captions in hopes of winning a 2013 National Audubon calendar. I have plenty to give away, so feel free to share the contest with friends. Here are Tuesday’s winners:

“The guys at Paul Mitchel called it edgy… is it me?” – Janie Yancey

“Hide ya kids, hide ya wife!” – Winston Nagan (referencing this)

September 13, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Love for the Swamp

For those of you that missed it in the bookstores, BBC Wildlife Magazine did a 13-page feature portfolio on my work in America’s Swamps. This was pretty exciting for me as a photographer, but especially significant from a wetland conservationist standpoint. We’re finally getting swamps some positive PR!
The BBC staff are top notch. They’re extremely thorough, inquisitive, and insightful; so when I was going back and forth with them about the layout and captions, it was a surprisingly painless process. The only complaint that they expressed was not having enough pages for the images I submitted. Can’t get better feedback than that!

If you’d like to check out the actual portfolio complete with captions in PDF version: Click Here

Or, you can find the online gallery of some of these photos here: America’s Swamps

July 4, 2012 | Categories: BBC magazine, Mac Stone, Swamp | 4 Comments

Congaree National Park

Water moccasin basking along Cedar Creek in Congaree National Park – © Mac Stone

Three years ago during the spring season I worked as a canoe guide and naturalist in Audubon’s Francis Beidler Forest. You’ve heard me brag about this place countless times but that’s because it’s one of the more magnificent places I’ve ever been. I remember feeling like I was part of a team, not just because I worked with other dedicated people in the same building, but because we were constantly trying to find new recruits for Four Holes Swamp. We had to earn the adoration of each wary soul that walked through our door because we wanted to be the darling of the lowcountry, the gem of the sodden bottomlands. This might have been an easy feat if we were the only ones promoting large tracts of cypress and tupelo swamp, but there was another nature reserve only an hour away with a bigger budget and a wider audience also offering boardwalk tours, canoeing, and large old-growth trees: Congaree National Park. In my three months of living only 45 minutes away, I never took the time to visit the park; partly out of spite, partly out of a swelling pride, but mostly because Beidler had everything I needed. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had been chugging the Beidler Kool-Aid for so long that when I left for the Everglades in the fall of 2009 and ran into a former Congaree National Park seasonal, we got into a heated debate as to who’s swamp was better. We had both been trained in the arts of tour-guiding and we knew our tag lines well. I would say, “We have the largest stand of old growth tupelo and cypress swamp in the world, enough said.” Heather would then retort with “Well, we have the largest tract of old-growth bottomland hardwood forest in the world.” And there we stood, proud, stubborn, and divided.

Old-growth cypress and tupelo trees along Cedar Creek in Congaree National Park – © Mac Stone

Such quibbling over semantics may seem petty stuff, but even years removed from our dutiful posts we were still elbowing for the top spot as South Carolina’s premier swamp. A week ago, I finally decided to put their words to the test and see what Congaree was all about before the summer heat rolled in. I readied my kayak, loaded my equipment in dry bags, and drove two hours South to the National Park. I wrote my former Beidler colleagues confessing my treasons and begging their forgiveness. This rivalry runs deep. I was immediately impressed having just spent the last two and a half years working in Everglades National Park and paying the $16 to camp at Flamingo plus a $5 entry fee to find that Congaree was completely FREE! 26,500 acres at my complete disposal, without so much as a dollar spent.

Brown watersnake – © Mac Stone

I put in at Cedar Creek and planned to paddle until finding a comfortable place to set up camp. I was immediately blown away by the amount of snakes sunning on the branches and fallen logs that stretched across the shallow blackwater creek.

Colorful cottonmouth at the base of the tupelo tree – © Mac Stone

It was herpetologist heaven. By the day’s end, I counted 43 snakes: 33 brown water snakes, 8 moccasins, and 2 red-bellied watersnakes! One of the first ones I saw was a small cottonmouth brilliantly colored (pictured above) from having just shed its skin. My timing wasn’t great, though, and at 3:00 PM in the swamp, the light can get pretty harsh. I waited around for a passing cloud and had my tripod ready. Thankfully it was patient enough for me to get close with a wide angle lens and attempt a 3-second exposure. I used a polarizer to take off the glare from its scales and a warm reflector to add fill light to the tree. Will all my movements the snake finally fled, which made for a nice blur effect (see thumbnail to the left).

Wise Lake, Congaree National Park – © Mac Stone

Along the trail I found several nice compositions of spindled tupelos and arching branches near Wise Lake. Prothonotary warblers darted in and out of hollowed trees and cypress knees and below the canopy darkness came quickly as the sun set. With low water levels, feral pigs had rooted the grassy banks to a muddy pulp so I decided to find a nice place for my hammock instead of dirtying up my tent. Just around the bend proved a perfect spot.

Primitive hammock camping along Cedar Creek – © Mac Stone

Soon, all manners of shrieks, chirps, and buzzes filled the spaces between the trees and leaves, bouncing off the water and surrounding my hammock. For a moment, laying still and looking up to the canopy I thought a pair of barred owls had perched right next to my head they were so loud. Lightning bugs beaconed green flares – staccato flashes through the limbs as if a meteor shower rained overhead. I was overwhelmed with a peaceful oneness in this ancient swamp and a surprising comfort settled over me. I’m sure Hernando de Soto felt the same when he first arrived to Congaree in 1540. Even with the lullabies of frogs and crickets, I was restless in my hammock, my creative side burning to find out what the scene looked like from the other bank. Grabbing my flashlight, I mounted the camera on the tripod I had set earlier for the composition above and started a series of long exposures painting the trees and creek banks of my airborne campsite.

Self-portrait hammock camping – © Mac Stone

Exhausted, I finally fell asleep by 1:00 AM, a deep, calm sleep. I don’t know if I would or could compare this place to Beidler Forest. They are two different ecosystems and too unique to pit against one another. Regardless, I think competition is healthy. South Carolina is all the luckier to have two of the world’s most impressive tracts of lowcountry relics within an hour of each other. I say let them duke it out, I’ll gladly allow them to vie for my affection.

June 18, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 10 Comments

Making the Dreamcatcher

“The Dreamcatcher” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park – © Mac Stone

In my last post I showed you two of my favorite new prints from Florida Bay and the Everglades, “The Dreamcatcher,” and “Dreamcatcher Dusk.” While I love sharing my polished and best work, the point of this blog is to also show you some of the behind-the-scenes stories of what it takes to make images like this. To shed a little light on my creative process, I thought I would share with you the many trials and tribulations of my year-long relationship with this tree. While most of these following images aren’t what I would consider portfolio “keepers” they represent the building blocks, the frustrations and rewards of what a long-lasting and fruitful relationship always require: patience.

Everglades, Mangrove, Florida Bay, Mac Stone

“Anchored in the Bay” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park – Photo © Mac Stone

Most professional photographers shoot with a specific goal in mind. That goal may be fine-art prints, editorial magazines, or filler material for blogs and social media. Personally I tend to shoot everything, that way when the time comes to supply an editor with content, I have a wide range of images to offer. Just like any other muscle, the more we artists exercise our creative minds, the sharper it tends to be when we need it the most. The downside to this, however, is that without a specific goal in mind you can easily miss great opportunities for one or the other, particularly during the golden hour when light is fading quickly. For the image above, “Anchored in the Bay” I knew what I wanted and I made sure to park the boat in the right location and have my brother ready with the right pose to make sure his legs and arms weren’t blending in with his silhouette form. This image doesn’t necessarily depict the uniqueness of the tree so much as it typifies the experience of boating in Florida Bay which still allows me to use this photo in conjunction with “The Dreamcatcher” for my portfolio. For the following images, however, I’ll walk you through the reasons why you never saw me posting about them in earlier blogs. First off though, let me give you some context.

Me photographing “The Dreamcatcher” – Everglades National Park photo by Will Stone

Photo by Will Stone

This mangrove is massive and sits upon a large grass flat. To access at low tide, it requires a heart-pounding slog, which is particularly difficult at 6:00 AM. 99% of the time I use a tripod, but for the image “Anchored in the Bay” which I am shown photographing here, I decided not to bring it because I knew the light was strong and I wouldn’t be attempting any long exposures since the wind was steadily gusting. With any plant or tree-photography, wind is a huge factor. Typically I shoot in the mornings because the wind is calmer than in the afternoons. Since I’m looking for dramatic light I know that a windy day will cause the branches to sway and leaves to shake. In low light situations this is a deal-breaker for long exposures. Many mornings I left with the wind at 0-5mph only to arrive at the mangrove with 10-15mph winds increasing as the sun peaked the horizon.

Silhouettes, often moody and striking, are an effective way to show shape and form. But for me, this image didn’t quite capture the radial shape of the tree. I liked the color and detail in the sky and the lonesome feel of a solitary mangrove, but I wasn’t ready to call this image “the one.” Plus the sharp ripples of the right side of the frame bothered me as they competed with the dark branches.

Mangrove at dawn – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park – Photo © Mac Stone

This image was made only minutes after the previous one, and you can see that just getting closer with a wide-angle lens starts to reveal the circular shape of the tree. The color in the sky was excellent and the exposure was slow enough to smooth out the water helping to isolate the tree. I was very close to publishing this image, considering it a “keeper” but it just wasn’t the one I was looking for. Something wasn’t right with the sky. I felt that the sky and the foreground didn’t complement each other enough, almost as if they were both competing for attention instead of sharing it, so I starred it in Lightroom as a possible favorite and waited for another opportunity. I thought perhaps a different perspective would work better.

Photo © Mac Stone

One overcast morning, I went out to the tree and I was almost positive the light was going to pop and color the clouds with brilliant pinks and purples. That would have been perfect. Alas, the sun stayed behind the clouds and only briefly showed hints of pastel blues and purples. I did really like the low perspective from the water line and how the clouds seemed to emanate from the mangrove, which solved the problem from the previous photo, but the light quality just wasn’t there. I hoped to try this same technique and point of view again.

Photo © Mac Stone

The next time I returned to the tree, there were no clouds higher than a few degrees above the horizon. With this in mind I decided to tighten down my angle of view and focus on the water instead of the sky. To avoid tangential lines created by the horizon and the tree limbs, I had to extend my tripod uncomfortably close to the water, looking up at the mangrove. Like the previous image I wanted smooth water to help simplify the composition and isolate the tree but shooting directly into the sun almost always forces photographers to use high shutter speeds. To counteract this, I used a 6 stop neutral density filter which gave me the slow speeds I needed. In hindsight I wished I would have used a reflector to redirect the light from the sun onto the tree giving it a little side-light detail. When shooting in salt water, though, I don’t bring all of my gear and I paid the price for it this time.

Photo © Mac Stone

I did like the low-angle idea and since the tree was big enough to crawl under, I decided to dedicate a sunset to exploring the possibilities beneath the canopy. There were certainly some interesting possibilities here and I loved how the highlights made an amber gateway through the prop roots and created a sunburst through the leaves, but I couldn’t see this image ever hanging on someone’s wall. I used a neutral density filter to slow the water down but again, I wish I would’ve used a reflector to light up the tree a little more. It’s small mistakes like this though, that hone your skills and have you ready for the next shoot.

Photo © Mac Stone

Context is a big thing and should not be overlooked. As I continued to get closer and closer to the mangrove I realized that I had essentially taken it out of its landscape. That’s fine for some subjects, but for this tree, it beckoned to be displayed against its big sky backdrop. One afternoon I stopped by the mangrove and stayed on the boat, forcing myself to shoot it from a distance. The wind was calm enough to reflect the sky in the water giving the photo a totally different feel than any other I had shot before. I just couldn’t bring myself to ever share this photo though, simply because it made my “Dreamcatcher” seem so lonely. A regal mangrove shouldn’t be pitied.

Finally, on what I determined to be my last chance of photographing this tree, I went out with a group of friends and a bucket of cold drinks. When I saw the clouds shifting on the western horizon, I was overjoyed knowing that perhaps finally I had my sky. I left the bucket and my friends on the boat and slogged out to the tree waiting for the sun to get just above the horizon. For thirty seconds it held and I managed two frames. I used a reflector to add fill light to the mangrove and a neutral density filter to smooth out the water. It was a culmination of all the right elements and I knew as soon as I triggered the shutter that this would be “the one.” It was a vantage point I never tried before, but I wouldn’t have arrived at the conclusion during the right light had I not tried a dozen times before from different angles.

Then, just when I started to call it a night, I turned around and the sky was a streaking pink and violet wisp. I couldn’t believe it. I had attempted for almost a year to find a sky to compliment my mangrove, and in a thirty minute span, I was given two perfect opportunities. When I finally got back to the boat, I climbed up and grabbed a frosty beer, toasted my friends, then the tree, and drank it down. It felt like I had been holding my breath for the last hour, frantically making images, and finally I could breathe. Jerry Lorenz piped up and said “Oh, sure, Mac, just your luck! You decide one day to take a picture of a mangrove and of course, the day you come out it’s one of the best sunsets I have seen on Florida Bay.” I just smiled and said “Jerry, if you only knew what I’ve been through with this tree, you wouldn’t call it luck, you’d call it probability.”

There is no end to how creative we can be with our cameras and our vision. Luckily mother nature gives us a fresh palette that we can work from every single day. I hope this little peek into the image-making process was helpful. Now you know just how much thought and time goes into making some of these photos. Thanks for reading!

June 11, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

The Dreamcatcher

The Everglades hosts the largest continuous stand of mangroves in the world. These gothic trees, with their crawling prop roots and arching limbs, are one of my favorite subjects to photograph. They each take on their own personality formed by wind, water, light, and even by the birds that roost upon their branches. Of the entire 850 square miles of Florida Bay that I’ve explored, however, there is only one particular mangrove that I have come to regard as my favorite. It sounds ridiculous to admit this, to hold preference of one tree over millions, but this partisanship isn’t unique to just me. All of my coworkers at Audubon each have their adored mangrove, one that seems to smile back at them when their boats race by.

This particular tree, which I have dubbed “The Dreamcatcher” is one of the most unique and distinguishable mangroves in the Bay. Its flat-top canopy expands radially in spindled limbs crowned with a perfect ring of orange, yellow, and green leaves. The base is a series of red columns littered with barnacles that come to life as the tides rise and fall. At one point in this mangrove’s life it supported a large osprey nest, giving it the rounded platform look we see today. I have spent countless evenings and pre-dawn mornings over the last year boating through the cuts and shallow banks of southeastern Florida Bay just to share this mangrove’s voice with the world. Like many projects I’ve started, it will take me months and sometimes even years before I feel comfortable showing the results. Many times I came home empty-handed but finally, in April, I managed to make two images worthy of this spectacular tree, “The Dreamcatcher,” and “Dreamcatcher Dusk.”

June 4, 2012 | Categories: Everglades National Park, Florida Bay, Mangrove | 4 Comments

Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition

Me with Carlton on the morning of their departure from Florida Bay

I was there for the first day of the expedition when Carlton Ward Jr, Mallory Lykes Dimmit, Joe Guthrie, and Elam Stoltzfus set out on their 100 day/1,000 mile journey from Florida Bay to Okeefenokee Swamp. I remember feeling a palpable envy knowing that they would be crossing some of the most wild and scenic regions of Florida. The simple idea of traveling 1,000 miles by your own sweat and grit, without the aid of pavement, is a crazy one by most standards. But crazy ideas and groundbreaking efforts are usually what it takes to move mountains. And if Florida is going to provide a corridor stretching from the Everglades to Georgia for endangered wildlife like panthers and black bears, well, some mountains will need to be moved.

Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition map

I planned on meeting up with Carlton and the crew along several stops of their journey but never found the time as I was wrapped up in my own adventures. When Carlton called me to come and join them on the final stretch through Okeefenokee Swamp, no matter what it was going to take, I knew I had to go. Having photographed his group for 100 days, it turned out no one had really taken images of Carlton, so it was my job to capture the essence of the group as a whole as well as its fearless leader. I felt a little like Nick Nichols on expedition with Mike Fay in the African Congo Megatransect, a story that I drooled over when it was published in National Geographic in 2001.

The headlights of my truck offer a quick photo opportunity before taking off on the Suwannee River

When I pulled into Griffis Fish Camp, it was 11:30 PM. There was no moon, just stars and a cacophony of frogs and toads. I had no idea where the expedition team was, just a general sense that they’d be South on the Suwanee River somewhere, camped along the banks. Carlton said he would leave a fire burning but that was at 9:00. I considered camping at the fish camp but knew that I needed early light photos of the group so I bit the bullet and paddled out into the darkness. My headlamp ruined my night vision so I turned it off and hoped for the best. Of all the things that could have scared me, the worst thing on the water at night were the wood ducks. It seemed they waited until they were right next to my boat when they would explode off the water. I felt so foolish when my nerves calmed. Finally, I pulled my kayak into camp around 1:30 and set up a tent, without so much of a stir from the team.

I woke the next morning at 5:30 to ready my camera gear and head out on the river for first light with Carlton. Polar fog was settling on the water and made for some great images with the looming tupelo and cypress along the banks. Carlton and I paddled upstream while the rest of the crew prepared breakfast and packed their tents. Photo shoots like these are tough. Since I didn’t have any time the day before to scout locations I had to work quickly to find compositions and opportunities where the light allowed. Luckily I was able to make a few frames before the fog lifted while gentle amber light still dappled the tops of the trees.

It’s an awkward thing being the subject of a photo, especially if you’re a photographer. All my friends will tell you the same thing as I constantly ask them to hold poses or look wantonly away from the lens. I think my girlfriend fears going out on hiking trips with me specifically for this reason. Carlton mused that he had never been in front of a camera so much as that morning with me. What can I say though? It was my job! I wasn’t going to let embarrassment or a small thing like courtesy get in the way of my images, I mean, do you think Nick Nichols would ever bashfully put away his camera with light like this? I don’t think so.

As soon as the sun started heating up the water, the light became too harsh and we pushed back to the camp to make moves for our lunch break at Griffis Fish Camp. It wasn’t until we were halfway there when Carlton told me we were actually stopping to meet up with Mike Fay, THE Mike Fay, who flew in from Washington to also join in on the last push of the expedition. (!!!!!!) Carlton had met Mike while photographing in Gabon and invited him to serve as the ultimate transect guru and guest speaker for their final arrival on Earth Day. If there’s anyone on this planet who knows about major transects to protect land, Mike is the authority.

Carlton Ward gets horizontal for a frisbee

Joe Guthrie lays out for a disc on the Suwannee River

Mallory Dimmit dives for a frisbee

It didn’t take long until we turned it into a frisbee battle, of course I’ll only show you the one where I caught it…

While we waited for Mike at the fish camp, I ran to my truck and grabbed a frisbee and we took turns running full speed into the river for full-on layouts. Good ol Florida backwoods fun. It turns out I’m not the only one who thinks this is one of the most entertaining things in the world. Eventually Mike showed up, and like a bunch of crazed labradors, dripping wet and panting we collected ourselves and made our introductions. All I could manage to say was a fumbling, “Hi Mike, uhh.. I’m a huge fan … umm I can’t wait to take photos of you.” Nothing says creepy quite like an overly sweaty, huffing, red-cheeked man with a camera.

Carlton Ward and Mike Fay meet up on the Suwannee River to finish the last miles of the expedition together

But there we were, all paddling up the Suwannee River into Okeefenokee National Wildlife Refuge and I couldn’t have been happier. Two of my conservation heroes on either side and a darkening sky with promises of thick heavy rain. If I were going to make this look like a hardcore expedition it couldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows. Luckily I packed a large golf umbrella on my kayak specifically for shooting in these conditions and when the skies opened up, I was ready.

Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition, Mac Stone

Carlton and Joe G. portage over a fallen log

Once the storm passed the Okeefenokee came alive. Prothonotary warblers echoed in the canopy and the lush swamp started closing in around the river. The Suwannee soon turned into a series of braided creeks and diffuse wetland. Trees had fallen across the water and we were forced to make a few precarious portages over the slippery logs. This was all pretty standard procedure to Carlton and Joe, who had seen their fair share of obstacles along the trek. There’s no such thing as an easy path along 1,000 miles of wilderness.

By the time we made it to our campsite, we were soaked to the bone. The rain picked up again and wouldn’t relent. All my camera gear was wet and I wasn’t looking forward to spending the night in a puddle. Not that I had much choice though and plus, I wouldn’t dare voice any complaint, not while in the presence of Mike who battled nearly every single discomfort known to man on his various transects. The chances for a fire were grim, until Joe found his axe and started to chop at burnt pine revealing lighter’d (lighter wood). We used my jet boil to get the coals going and soon enough we were warming up around a roaring campfire. Sweet, sweet, bliss.

Joe Davenport warms himself by the fire

Around the fire we talked shop all night, discussing gear preferences, cameras, and favorite whiskeys. It didn’t take us long to finish the Maker’s Mark I brought either, giving us that extra warmth before heading to bed. I’m sure for Carlton, Joe, Elam, and Mallory, they feared the fading light of the campfire as much as they welcomed their warm sleeping bags. With the dawn would come an end, a bittersweet finale to an incredible journey. For a crew that’s been shoulder to shoulder for 100 days braving some of Florida’s wildest places I could see how the finish line might actually be a daunting thing.

From left, Mallory, Joe, Carlton, and Elam leave their campsite in Okeefenokee and make way for Steven Foster.

Elam carries his bags to the boat

After packing up, the group solemnly made their way to the kayaks. With only a couple miles between them and their welcoming committee at Stephen Foster, they took their time enjoying breakfast and drinking coffee. By 10:00 AM they were on the water and heading for the final stretch. Once momentum picked up and paddles were put to water, the group moved with lifted spirits.

Alligators and warblers traversed the calm river and our kayaks cut through the mirrored landscape. By 12:00 we were at the mouth of the canal leading to Stephen Foster State Park and the rain let loose from the sky again. It was a fitting end; one last push through Florida’s fickle weather to the crowds of media teams and adoring supporters.

Their arrival was well-received and people cheered as Elam, Mallory, Joe, and Carlton disembarked from their vessels. Wives, brothers, sisters, children, and daughters swarmed the expedition team with tears and warm embraces. After 100 days and 1000 miles, they finally made it home.

June 2, 2012 | Categories: Carlton Ward Jr, Florida Wildlife Corridor, Mac Stone, Photography, Swamp | 5 Comments

Dolphin Days

Click here to watch the video on my Vimeo channel

I didn’t plan on doing a video. In fact, I was ready to publish the below blog solely on dolphin photos until I came across this image, and it just sang to me. It typified the sunny afternoons spent in the slipstream of dolphin tails, watching them careen through the emerald Bay. But the image needed a little more motion if I were going to successfully share the experience with viewers. My still imagery is always reliant on the wild imagination of my audience to animate the rest of the story. However, there are just some things that a photo alone cannot capture; like the sound of a dolphin kiss. So, enjoy!

There was a three-week period in March where Atlantic bottlenose dolphins seemed to be the running theme to my final days in the Keys. It was as if they followed my boat waiting for good light and their chance to shine in front of the camera.

Everywhere I turned, I found pods of dolphins feeding in the shallows, playing behind my wake, or riding the bow, showcasing their acrobatics and boasting free range of Florida Bay. No matter how many times I’ve seen them though, it’s always a treat knowing that in some capacity they’re as curious of me as I am of them. Surely, it’s a sign of intelligence when a mammal spends a great deal of its time exploring its curiosity, learning and interacting from the world. Or, as scientists like to say, “making sense of the senses.” Not to get too far into detail here, but recent studies are showing that this highly sophisticated level of brain function can be attributed to neurons known as spindle cells. These cells are found in other complex-brained animals like chimpanzees, whales, and apes. Biologists hypothesize that spindle neurons are the building blocks to cognitive learning and comprise the foundation for elaborate social interactions. For someone who works around skittish wildlife that constantly flees at the snap of twig, to have a wild animal approach me for once feels like a gift, a subtle ego-stroke even.

The real gift, however, came from my friends at Dolphin Cove. Jessica Lundstrum, Emily Campbell, and Jessica Lili are dolphin trainers who spend all their time interacting with these incredible animals. I’m sure everyone who ever visited Sea World at one point wanted to quit their job and take up dolphin or whale training. Thousands of people come down to the Keys to dive the reefs and to also spend an afternoon in one of the several swim programs they have around the islands with rehabilitated dolphins. Just before the busy season picks up, however, they need to acclimate the animals to strangers. This is where it pays to have friends at Dolphin Cove. I believe the text I received read like this, “Hey Mac, we need people to swim with dolphins this morning, can you come in?” It was 75 degrees and sunny. My reply? “Nah, I have some things to do around the house… uh… yes!”

Not 30 minutes later I was sitting on the bedrock bottom blowing big air bubbles while four bottlenose dolphins circled and squeaked around me. I strapped on my GoPro and got some fun clips of the playful animals as they tried desperately to figure out what that blinking red light on my head was. I couldn’t believe I waited two years to do this and even more so, surprised when the staff thanked me as I left, which seemed so backwards; like Willy Wonka thanking Augustus for drinking from his chocolate waterfall.

April 30, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Man’s Best Friend

In this world there are few bonds stronger than that of a man and his dog. In the Keys, where bars and restaurants kindly open their doors to people and canines alike, many of the four-legged animals begin to socialize and create their own circle of friends. While most locals know each other in the small communities, their pets are often more ubiquitous than their owners. There’s Layla, the barrel-bodied pitbull who’s bull-dozing gait clears tables and chairs if left unattended. Then there’s the half-blind basset hound, Beauregard, a dive bar junkie who lumbers along mopping the beer-soaked floor with his ears. But while these dogs are well-known for their quirky personas and general presence, there’s only one dog who actually engages, entertains, and receives invites at every social gathering. Meet River.

River attempts to place a coconut husk in my hand for one more throw while Badger looks on

River, an Australian shepherd and labrador mix was adopted by Garl Harrold four years ago. Within the first few months River managed to get her tongue stuck in a Kong ball and Garl faced either a $4,000 surgical procedure or the option to put her down. Fortunately, it was a good year for Garl’s Coastal Kayaking and he footed the bill. To this day, it seems she has tried every possible way of repaying her debt with the hundreds of coconuts she fanatically peels. Piles of husks litter the front lawn and Garl is always quick to offer a fresh coconut water to anyone that visits the house. Her half tongue has left her uncontrollably drooling, sliming anyone that dares to walk near her mouth. After years of shucking the hardened coconuts her canines have eroded down to what looks like a dentist’s solution for delinquent dogs. Garl has tried to ease her into tennis balls, racquetballs, and even baseballs, but she destroys them all the same as if there were something delicious waiting at the center of all round things.

Garl paddles River in Florida Bay on one of his sunset cruises

While Garl is out leading trips into the wilds of the Everglades he has to leave his dog behind. At home, unleashed and unbound River commonly takes off to explore the neighborhoods and retrieve anything that strangers offer to throw. When she’s not out on her own, friends and coworkers come by and voluntarily pick her up to spend an afternoon with the legendary dog. Unfortunately, her forever-loving labrador naivety has landed her in the cars of strangers excited to claim her for themselves. That is, until her captors cease from throwing objects, and finally bored, she follows her internal compass back home. So River, this post is for you. Even though you can’t read, I’ll feel better telling the world that you have made my last few years brighter. Oh, and I’ll go ahead and confess that I may have dropped your name once or twice at Sharkey’s to get the locals discount. So thanks.

April 27, 2012 | Categories: Uncategorized | 6 Comments

Spoonbill Monitoring: Central Everglades

A storm feeds the River of Grass with freshwater in the vast Water Conservation Area of the Central Everglades

While my work generally has me boating and paddling around Florida Bay and the Southern Everglades, the Tavernier Science Center also works closely with the district throughout South Florida. This relationship ensures that we have a comprehensive data set for roseate spoonbills and other wading birds nesting all along the River of Grass watershed. Since nesting starts later the farther North you go, I was invited with coworker Adam Chasey in early March to accompany Robin Bennet and Mark Cook on an aerial survey of bird colonies in the water conservation areas.

“Waterfront properties” in West Palm.

We left out of West Palm Beach and flew over the sprawling city. It looked so alien on the fringe of such a subtle environment.

Morning showers created a rainbow arching over Alley North colony

You all know by now how I am on small airplanes so I was relieved to learn we’d be flying in style; a 407 helicopter, which is one of the smoothest rides out there. A few weeks prior I tried to access these colonies by airboat with University of Florida biologists, but failed miserably when our vessel got stuck in the dense sawgrass and cattails. That’s another story though.

Thousands of white ibis nest on a tree island in Water Conservation Area 3

Our main goal was to get spoonbill counts and see if we could spot bands which would tell us if our birds from the Bay were moving north to find other suitable nesting grounds. This turned out to be a tall order, however, as we learned the hard way. I thought that with a helicopter we’d be able to set down and explore the colonies on foot to find nests and adults within a photographable distance. What we learned after walking 30 feet into the waist-deep mire revealed that these tree islands are far different from the mangrove islands on the Bay. Too easily turned around and unable to see above the sawgrass which lacerated our arms and legs, Adam and I returned to the helicopter and attempted to photograph spoonbills from the air.

A flock of spoonbills takes flight over the Everglades. If you look closely, the second from the left bottom has a band on

its right leg, hinting that our Florida Bay birds may be more mobile than we originally thought.

Thanks to our phenomenal pilot, Jake Wells, we were able to fly wing to wing with a small group and in no time, spotted our first band! For someone who spends most of his days looking up at spoonbills soaring across a blue sky, my heart melted as I flew side by side with these pink beauties. What an experience and better yet, what great data!

April 7, 2012 | Categories: Mac Stone, Roseate spoonbill | Leave a comment

Loxahatchee River

An adult barred owl sits atop a bald cypress, calling to its mate on the Loxahatchee River

There are only two rivers that flow freely into Lake Okeechobee, Fisheating Creek is one, and the Loxahatchee is the other. Before we started replacing our natural waterways with canals, Floridian creeks and rivers had personality, a sinuosity marked by thousand-year hardwoods and abundant wildlife. For this reason, unaltered rivers like the Loxahatchee are our best windows into the past. Early this month I had the unique opportunity to spend two days camping on the river while conducting spoonbill research via helicopters in the central Everglades. Fortunately, Adam Chasey and I met up with Radio Green Earth host Jim Jackson and Albrey Arrington, the Chief Executive of the Loxahatchee River District to learn more about the area and its role in Everglades Restoration. You can hear some clips of the recorded show in the podcast section here: RadioGreenEarth.org

I always wanted to put a paddle in the famed Loxahatchee. Its century-old cypress and winding blackwater gives it the title “Florida’s most scenic river.” Surprisingly it’s relatively unpopulated even on a weekend. When Adam and I were launching our canoe a couple came over to us and asked how we found out about the river, as if it were a local secret. I love places like this!

Our first day on the river we paddled a little over two miles in 4 hours. Not because it was a difficult paddle, but because it was difficult to stay in the boat and stop exploring the high banks studded with twisted cypress knees. On a branch not more than ten feet off the water a pair of barred owls preened and flirted paying us no attention.

Palms hung over the river, so of course we had to see who would be daring enough to walk across, which then promptly turned into a game of chicken, “who can go no hands… upsidedown?” This is my kind of swampin… I can’t wait to go back!

March 30, 2012 | Categories: loxahatchee river, Mac Stone | Leave a comment

American Crocodiles:

American crocodiles are probably my favorite animal in the Everglades. I grew up with alligators, played tag with their tails, swam with them, and even caught a few (all of which I would never condone). They’re a dime a dozen in most Florida waterways. Everglades National Park, however, is the only place in the world where alligators and crocodiles share the same space. Double bonus! I’ve photographed alligators so many times that I’m constantly trying to find new ways of photographing them.

Crocodiles, however, are completely different beasts. In the United States they are considered endangered species and estimates range from 2,000-3,500 individuals. Besides the physical differences (longer snout, more abrupt scales, coloration, eye color, and jaw line), American crocodiles seem to have little in common with the alligators I came to know as a kid. While their gaze and exposed teeth are more menacing, they’re actually incredibly shy and tough to approach. I’ve tried for nearly two years to capture a worthy image of these reptiles without much luck. It always seems that just as I am closing in with good light and camera ready, they scuttle off into the murky water. I do, however, have plenty of images of a giant splashing tail.

A large, 12ft crocodile basks at the edge of Lake Ingram

I embrace these types of challenges, though. The trick to any wildlife photography is figuring out the animal’s habits and then putting yourself right in the middle of it. Reptiles are fairly predictable creatures. Knowing that above all else they need to warm their bodies by sunlight, I tried a technique I employed while in South Carolina. Setting my camera trap up at one of their favorite basking locations I let the shutter run for three days at 2 minute intervals. I was disappointed not to find a single crocodile when I returned to retrieve the camera but they simply have too many places they frequent to depend on one location with a static, un-manned camera. I needed a bottleneck; some sort of biotic or abiotic factor that would increase my chances of getting close.

Crocodiles gather on a mud flat along the southern tip of Florida.

Taking to the air, I scouted out locations where I thought they might congregate. It turns out flying over Cape Sable during a cold winter day the best way to see American crocodiles in the Everglades. While this made for a couple “keeper” images, I needed something better, closer, where viewers could get right down in the dragon’s lair.

Luckily I’m not the only one down here who thinks these sorts of missions are fun. A few friends of mine, Garl Harrold, Mark Parry, and April Geisler were all patiently waiting for a cold weekend to sweep through the Everglades this winter to get close looks at crocodiles. We had one day where the temperature was just barely cold enough and water levels moderately low to concentrate the reptiles in a few remote locations. I had my bottleneck!

Garl Harold (front), Mark Parry, and April Geisler portage the canoes through a shallow creek

We woke up at 4 AM and trailered a boat loaded with a kayak and canoe out to the park. Putting in right at sunrise we headed out for the Cape Sable area. Anchoring the boat, we portaged the kayak and canoe loaded with enough food, water, and camera gear through salt marsh until reaching the water. While I cannot disclose where this area is, I will say that it’s no easy task to get there.

This deep, thick mud pit held me for about 5 minutes before I freed myself.

Luckily no cameras were injured in the making of this photo. Photo by Garl Harrold

Paddling 7 miles, we finally made it to the mud banks where the year prior I saw over 40 crocodiles, only to find they had all slipped into the water. It turns out the 60-degree weather just wasn’t cold enough to keep them from moving. I was almost heart-broken. Muddy, wet, sore, and tired, I knew I’d have to wait another year for a shot like this.

An American crocodile in its natural habitat reveals only a glowing green eye.

Disappointed, we anchored the boats and started eating lunch until Mark yelled out from the shore that he found a croc still submerged in the mud. We slogged over and it took me about a minute to actually see the crocodile. Its whole body was camouflaged with the mud and the only part visible was a neon green and yellow eye glowing in the afternoon sun. This is what I came for!

Slowly and cautiously, I walked around the crocodile so as not to scare it off or scare it towards me, and began shooting photos from a distance. Once I felt the 8-foot croc was comfortable or tolerant of us being there, I moved in a little closer. The tingling in my fingertips and tension in my thighs felt the palpable presence of wild nature. Those of you who have been close to large wildlife, know exactly what I’m talking about. I want to believe I made a connection with this crocodile, that we bonded for a moment, but the biologist in me knows that it’s a simple calculation in the crocodile’s mind which allowed me to stay. It was cold and he didn’t want to spend the energy to defend his spot. Ten very sweaty and nervous minutes later, I had the image I’d been envisioning for the last two years.

The difference between how I felt just before biting into my lunch, knowing that we hadn’t found the crocodiles we came to see and finding ol green-eye laying up in the mud was a complete 180. I know I shouldn’t rely on wildlife for the barometer of my happiness, but after years of planning I was too emotionally involved. Treasure hunters probably feel this way all the time. Luckily this year we didn’t come up empty-handed, or one-handed for that matter.

All jokes aside, wild crocodilians are not what I would consider to be aggressive animals. When unprovoked and unmolested they are simply observers and tend to avoid humans at all costs. To them, we’re big potential predators and they want nothing to do with us. To assume that every alligator or crocodile is just waiting for a chance to bite people is baseless. To this day there still has yet to be an unprovoked alligator or crocodile attack in Everglades National Park and there is no shortage of tasty tender-skin tourists running around. Still, I do not encourage people to get close to alligators, crocodiles, or other animals. I was accompanied by a wildlife biologist who works professionally with crocodiles and alligators and I myself have years of experience with these animals. No crocodiles were harmed in any way in the making of these photos. Please do not attempt this in your local swamps or parks.

March 27, 2012 | Categories: american crocodile, Everglades National Park, Mac Stone | 3 Comments

Mac Stone Photography

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Love for the Swamp

Congaree National Park

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Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition

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Spoonbill Monitoring: Central Everglades

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American Crocodiles:

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