One morning I got up early and looked out the window to see what kind of lighting conditions we had. I had to blink my eyes a few times because what I saw was…nothing. A foggy white-out! I had been waiting for a spring morning like this, so I didn’t hesitate to grab my camera, coffee and head out into the pasture. I knew better than to venture out in the truck, as these conditions would probably fade fast.
I put on my knee-high boots and trudged through the soaking wet (thigh-high) grass with my dog Solo leading the way. I was hoping to find a composition of a nice tree by the pond. Solo was more interested in finding a rabbit. Within a few minutes walk, I made it to my big pond. I have three ponds on my property, but this one has one particular Oak tree that I knew may be somewhat back-lit as the morning sun came up over the trees.
I set up just by the water’s edge. I loved how the warm glow of the fast-approaching sunrise contrasted with the cool tones of the still shadowed pond and pasture. It was serene, quiet and calm. The water was glassy and still. There was hardly a sound. I framed up the camera pretty wide, and shot a multi-frame panorama from the extreme left side of the pond, all the way past my favorite Oak tree.
Almost as if on cue, a cow scooted into frame just to the right of the Oak, and I shot another set as it stopped to graze. A few moments later, it slid on around the pond and I decided to set up further up the hill to find a different composition.
I was at the point of leveling up my tripod head when suddenly, I was startled by a sudden, distressed, bellowing yelp from just over the hill. The brush by the pond started to shake, and out came a young calf, being chased by my crazy dog. It bellowed again and ran up the hill towards me before turning and running away. I yelled at the dog and he obediently stopped and crouched down in the grass, but it was too late. The distress call had been sounded and I was in trouble.
Within a few seconds, I heard the thundering sound of momma cows stampeding towards me, sounding their own bellows of extreme disapproval. The shoot was immediately over. I sprang into clumsy action, juggling my backpack, tripod and coffee, as I made a run for it down the hill into the ravine—thundering momma cows charging behind me over the hill. Luckily they spotted Solo and charged him instead of me.
By this time, there were a couple dozen stirred up momma cows occupying my hill and the fog was dissipating, so I packed up my stuff and headed back with basically one set in the camera.
In Lightroom I stitched my panorama together and ended up with a less-than-amazing composition. It was too wide, flat and offered less drama than I had hoped.
The original pano, stitched together.
It was only after looking critically at the image that I realized I actually did have something great staring me right in the face from this shot. With a careful crop, I could simplify this image tremendously, eliminate a ton of distracting elements, and end up with a “keeper.”
This is the almost-final crop. I’m still tweaking exactly how much pond/sky to leave in.
Looking back, it was an amazing moment. If you situate yourself where your subject is backlit or sidelit through the fog, you can get some real drama. But the real photographic tip here is:
Take advantage of the moment while you have it. It could end with a stampede.
I found a verse that corresponds perfectly to this experience, this one from the New Living Translation:
James 4:14
How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.
How appropriate. The fog was diminishing quickly, and the calm, quiet moment I experienced also quickly diminished into a stampede of chaos!