A teachable moment occurred to me while editing through images captured this morning on the Santa Fe River. Below is a photograph taken with a very wide 10 mm lens. It's dark and foreboding, offering a chance of escape through the tunnel of light. Just follow the light, and all of your worries will disappear. I like that this photograph conjures up the emotions that I described. And I like the photograph. 

But below this image you will see another. It was taken from the exact same position, only with a longer lens. It's also foreboding. You see the vines and branches you must fight through to get to the light. It's eerily beautiful. What makes this image more effective than the other (in my opinion) is that I've isolated the more striking elements of arching branches, vines and light from the rather featureless water and opaque blackness of the giant cypress trees in the previous image. The closer-up image not only highlights form but also color. (You might notice the subtle blue where the shadow of smoke and water lie untouched by the orange sun.) This image is also more interesting. You can't quite tell what it is right away. It quizzes you to discover its beginning and end.

The teachable moment is that next time you are out photographing nature, think about what the scene before you will look like if you zoom in, cutting out the extraneous peripheral elements. Challenge yourself to cut out as much as you can. If you feel like you've cut out too much, back off a little. The point is remember to try different ways of seeing one thing. Often one scene, especially landscapes, can be photographed well in many different ways. Explore them all to ensure you return home with a great image that tells the story.

Below are more images that show a mid-range view of the flooded cypress forest I photographed this morning. I sought to photograph a "grand" landscape using a wide angle lens, but quickly changed my point of view after seeing that using a moderate telephoto lens to isolate the backlit steam fog, trees, branches and water would be more effective at telling the story of my experience in this flooded forest.

I hope to head back  tomorrow at sunrise for more photographs of rising steam fog in the Santa Fe River. We've had record cold temperatures here in Florida and the inland freshwater rivers and springs are especially dynamic at sunrise with all that moisture from the warm water condensing with the cold, dry air. Tomorrow, I just might have to get my feet wet. Stay tuned ...

On one of the coldest mornings of the year, I spent the night outside in my tent not only to test how well my 15 degree sleeping bag would hold up, but also to challenge my fortitude. Eighteen degree temperatures presented me with an opportunity to be challenged, not just to scrape ice crystals off my windshield.

I survived. Accompanied by a silk cover, my down-filled sleeping bag keep me insulated from the cold, mostly. The biting cold nipped at my body where the down was most thin. A  balaklava kept my nose, forehead and neck insulated. I slept only in a skin-tight base layer made of polyester and spandex, with wool socks and gloves covering vulnerable digits.

After waking, I made my way to the Santa Fe River to photograph steam fog rising from the warm water.

Rise and shine! I awoke to 18 degree temperatures at 7 am.

A small spring feeds into the Santa Fe River. This river runs within a few miles of my home and is central to my earliest experiences in nature. Despite having a lake as its source, the flow is largely driven by springs. Some, like this one, are but a trickle and have no official name. Others feed hundreds of millions of gallons per day into the river and are known to professional cave divers the world over.

Many islands (Rum Island is pictured here) and shallow spots rise from the limestone bottom creating habitat for many animals. The Santa Fe River is visually untouched. No dams or developments. Few homes and farms. Pristine to the eye. But it is not immune to human impact. Pollution from agricultural and residential fertilizers, invasive aquatic plants such as hydrilla, and, as of late, water bottling threaten the river.

Shortly after the New Year holiday and just before school started, I took my 12 year-old-nephew camping on Florida's Nature Coast. As cold weather moved into the state (and has stayed ever since), we embarked on a short but exhilarating canoe trip to Piney Point in Taylor County where Tony spotted a small clump of trees he determined to be a great place to camp. I agreed. It was one of many agreements we had on our trip, as I challenged his judgment to make decisions under my oversight. He was keen in addition to being a great companion. I had one rule – don't complain. He didn't. We explored beaches, marsh and coastal scrub, dirtying our clothes and body, even drawing blood. We stayed warm by a small camp fire and ate well. In short, we enjoyed every second of our adventure.

A baby horseshoe crab backlit by the setting sun.

Fire by star light.

I wish I could get my peer camping buddies to be this helpful!

My best Homer Simpson impression. "Why you little ... !!"

We found all sorts of totally weird stuff. This is the partial legs and body of an adult horseshoe crab.

I promised Tony I'd take him to my secret beach on our way home. We decided to call it, "Uncle Eric's Island". (See blog entry "My Island" for more images of this place.)

© Tony Tell. Tony captured this photo. (I have have a budding photographer on my hands ...)

The Florida Forever Coalition has published the 2010 Florida Forever Conservation Photography Calendar on their Web site: www.supportfloridaforever.org.

The Florida Forever Conservation Photography Calendar is a publication initiative of the Legacy Institute for Nature & Culture to educate Floridians about conservation in their home state. LINC has identified Florida Forever as the right message to highlight with this unique calendar. Thus the calendar is a publication dedicated solely to Florida Forever, and a partnership between the coalition and LINC's calendar is as natural as a longleaf pine soaking up the warm Florida sun.

I have managed the calendar for the last three years, with increasing  responsibilities as time goes by. I assign landscapes to photographers, collect images, edit, write, steer design, fundraise, market, sell and distribute. Oh, and I am also one of the 12 photographers. Below is my image in the new 2010 calendar, captured early last spring while photographing the Florida Forever project of South Goethe.

You can purchase the calendar for $17 through my Web site by clicking here. Your purchase supports LINC and my effort to help Florida conservation. Shipping included.

If I faced into the wind, horizontal snow would invariably blow right into my face and eyes. So I walked backwards.

Only one day before, the landscape was mostly barren except for fallen leaves. With the snow today, I have officially seen every weather condition possible. The week started with fog, low clouds, drizzle, rain. Sun followed, complimented by puffy white clouds and crisp blue skies. The air was warm. Then the clouds came back, higher this time and without moisture. That was yesterday. That was the day I killed my first deer. It was Thanksgiving day.

I watched it eat for more than 10 minutes. Every 30 seconds or so it would stop and look up, scan, sniff, then go back to grazing. It was moving my direction and had no idea I was there, waiting, with a 30-30 rifle pointed at it. I couldn't help but to think that this creature, doing what it does naturally, peacefully, was about to die, violently, because of me. I shot that buck. The bullet went straight through. It could only run 30 yards with both lungs punctured. The sound of it trying to breath went straight through me, like that bullet went through it. Except I wasn't going to die. I just wept, not out of sadness or guilt. I wept because of the power of the moment, and of the magnitude of my appreciation for life, now that I had just taken one. Through closed eyes, I said thank you over and over again.

The whole week I had hunted, thinking about how hunters can be just like photographers. Going out during early morning and late evening, seeking to get close to wildlife, and silently watching the wildlife that are not prey, stalking, waiting. I didn't shoot any photos of that fateful moment, my first kill. Now that I had succeeded, I was out for the first time, in the snow, shooting with my camera instead of a gun. I walked to the spot where the deer had fallen and stared at it, covered now in a fresh coat of snow, the wind howling. Maybe I felt the need to be at peace before leaving for Florida. I was.