Article and Images
by Karen Messick
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The late night weather forecast motivated me to plan an early wake–up call the next morning! Fog was expected in the morning, and I thought it would be fun to make some images at the lake. I cleaned my lenses and packed by gear so when the alarm went off I would only need to get dressed and hop in the car.

However, I must admit when the alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. I had lost some of my enthusiasm for the fog. Upon opening the curtains I decided to go. Since I had forgotten to pack my over the knee waders the night before I just put on sandals and made a quick decision that all my photography would be from the shore instead of wading into the lake. 

Somewhere between my bed and the lake I decided that I did not want to go to the lake. I was being drawn in another direction. As I drove past the barns shrouded in fog I remember a service road that parallels Gunpowder Fall that I had discovered the week before. Gunpowder Falls is not a falls at all—it is a low flat trout stream in a small rural valley in northern Baltimore County, Maryland. I had obviously not planned this adventure very well, but I was on a path and I was going.

© Karen Messick, Field Contributor

On my Nikon N90’s camera body I mounted a 2x teleconverter and my 300mm .8 lens, providing me with an effective focal length of 600mm. I added a drop in polarizer to minimize glare off the water. The early morning sun was rising to the east which was the direction the bird was wading down stream, so I decided the polarizer would be helpful since the light was at a ninety degree angle. I attached my favorite accessory which slips into the hot shoe, the Hamma Bubble which help me keep horizons level. Of course my cable release was attached to minimize any shake form pressing the shutter button. I was working with slow film, Velvia rated at 40 and Kodak E100vs, as a back up. The light was overcast as the fog burned off, perfect for making images of the heron.

© Karen Messick, Field Contributor

Clicking off frame after frame I followed this bird down stream for two and one–half hours. At one pint when the bird had walked out of range I got back into my car and drove down stream. This new spot provided a natural blind behind a fallen tree. It also provided a natural resting place for me to set up and wait as the heron walked down stream right into my space in the river. Not once did he flinch or act nervous about my presence.

As I watched him hunting, I began connecting with him. Here I was fishing for a good image—there he was fishing for a good meal. I even looked like the bird; quiet, with my eyes intently focused on my catch, the long legs of my tripod extended out in front of me, moving in a calculated way. The heron only caught a small fish that I saw, so I did not get a marvelous images of a blue heron with a fish in its mouth. I did get two and a half hours of total amazement, wonder and relaxation as I racked the heron down stream.

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