Discover the natural wonders and photogenic beauty of the “Last Frontier” – Alaska! Perhaps no place fills the senses more than Cordova, Alaska’s hidden treasure. Cordova is a small, coastal town surrounded by glacier-carved mountains and nestled at the head of Orca Inlet in Eastern Prince William Sound. The area provides endless photographic opportunities with its wildlife, rich wetlands, lush forests, and countless waterways. Explore the natural grandeur not only with wildlife photography, but also hiking, kayaking, boating, and flightseeing. Each day you’ll enjoy hearty meals – home-cooked with local ingredients and plenty of fresh seafood – and stay in a cozy ecolodge.
~Seek out wildlife along the Copper River Delta as you take a canoe ride down the Alaganik Slough.
~Fly to explore Egg Island, a barrier island hosting a variety of bird species.
~Take a boat trip to the panoramic Orca Inlet to see the world’s largest population of sea otters.
~Hike through three complete ecosystems on the Heney Ridge Trail, where birds and wildlife can be spotted.
~Kayak the tranquil waters of Orca Inlet, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and home to eagles, sea otters, and seals.
~Participate in a discussion on global warming before heading to the Sheridan Glacier for an ice trekking excursion.
“If you were alive in 1970, more than one in four birds have disappeared in your lifetime.” So begins a Cornell Chronicle article about a new study by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. That loss represents about three billion birds, across the US and Canada and across all biomes. Researchers examined decades of data on 529 species and found massive declines (53% loss) in the numbers of grasslands birds as well as big drops (37%) in shorebirds. As Ken Rosenberg, lead author of the study said, “It’s a strong signal that our human-altered landscapes are losing their ability to support birdlife. And that is an indicator of a coming collapse of the overall environment.”
In 2010, as part of the International League of Conservation Photographers’ Chesapeake Bay RAVE (Rapid Assessment Visual Expedition), I found myself on the Anacostia River in Washington DC. The Anacostia is one of the most imperiled watersheds within the Chesapeake Bay watershed, a sprawling eco-region spanning most of the Mid-Atlantic. The Anacostia is also my home watershed, where the water that drains off my house and yard ends up.
Tonight, at 11 PM Eastern Time, the entry window for NANPA’s Showcase Competition closes. Have you got your entries in or are you a procrastinator? I’ll confess to sometimes waiting until the last minute to get something done. The important thing is actually getting it done. So, the good news is: You still have time. The bad news is: Not much!
You might have seen headlines about an “insect apocalypse,” a dramatic and alarming decline in the numbers of insects, collapsing bee colonies, once-common species becoming increasingly rare. Should we be worried? And what has this got to do with photography?
Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Haxby, and for the next year I will be the President of the Board of Directors of NANPA. I’ve been a member of NANPA for over 10 years and have been on the Board of Directors for the last two. I have always enjoyed photography, but several years ago, after a career of almost 30 years as a natural resource manager, it was time to leave behind the 10 x 10 cubicle, endless meetings, toxic office politics and administrative tedium. So, I dove into nature photography full time and have not regretted for one minute the photographic adventures and time spent behind my camera. Along the way, there have been a few photos that have made the Showcase top 250 and a few other award winners as well as six weeks as an Artist-in-Residence in 2016 in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. There have been so many trips to the Smokies, that some thought that I am local to there. Not yet! I currently reside in the Traverse City area of Northern Michigan.
The Rock Creek Conservancy is partnering with the National Park Service and working with the local community to strategically restore five sites (“mini-oases”) within Rock Creek Park.
Story & photo by Frank Gallagher
When we think of conservation photography, we often have in mind images of the grand and majestic: elephants, whales and tigers; the Grand Canyon, glaciers and coral reefs. You don’t have to be a well-known photographer like Joel Sartore or Florian Schulz, or work with National Geographic or the Sierra Club to have an impact. Those are all important, to be sure, but not everything has to be charismatic megafauna, epic landscapes, famous names or mass media. There are also many opportunities for conservation photography in the small, in the local and in the mundane. Sometimes, opportunity is knocking in places you’ve come to take for granted.
Crowds of tourists and photographers start to gather by Delicate Arch hours before sunset.
Story & photo by Frank Gallagher
Where do you draw the line between access and preservation? At what point does introducing a larger number of visitors to the wonders of nature start to endanger that very nature? It’s a tough call and one that land owners, government agencies and photographers are facing every day.
This is my last blog as NANPA president, the end of a year of maundering over the past, present and future of nature photography. It turns out my fear that the organization would suffer under my leadership, or lack thereof, was unfounded, just as many of my fears are. Not only is NANPA doing well, but its membership has reached a new high point. It’s tempting for me to take credit for our success, but the truth is I’m riding on the coattails of an incredible herd/school/pride/pod of talented and hard-working staff and volunteers. Without them I would have been president of nothing, and I’m extremely grateful for my addiction to nature photography if for no other reason than it introduced me to these wonderful people who have guided and supported me.
Cathy and I just returned from our last photo tour, a week of pointing lenses at colorful birds and ancient reptiles in some of Florida’s remaining wetlands. Just about every location we visited was outstanding, so crammed with photographic possibilities it was sometimes difficult to choose which subject to put in the viewfinder. A viewer, judging from the images we came home with, would assume all is right with this sub-tropical environment. What the photos don’t show is that each wonderful site was separated from the others by a couple of hours of driving on some very busy roads. It’s perfectly true that there are still some great venues for those who enjoy photographing wild things and the places they live, but these venues are becoming more and more isolated, islands of biodiversity in a growing sea of concrete, asphalt and golf courses.