We were about thirty minutes north of Kaslo, on our way towards John Fenger Memorial Trail on an ice-misted Kootenay afternoon, when wildlife photographer Jim Lawrence began describing the best way to spot an owl in the wild.
“We can’t talk too much because we have to focus on looking for owls,” Lawrence said, his truck grumbling along as we got further and further from his already-isolated house in Cooper Creek. He leaned forward against his steering wheel, his eyes aimed upwards.
I tried to follow his example, scanning the snow-weighted boughs on either side of the road for any flash of feathered movement. My eyes skimmed over the glittering white snowbanks of Meadow Creek and rose up to the skeletal-fingered branches that arched overhead.
“The best method of finding an owl is thinking owl. You have to look in every tree, plus this time of year they hunt close to the ground. They hunt with their ears and they need to be low to hear the mouse on the snow.”
Shortly later an avian smudge appeared on the road ahead, panic-flapping into the trees with our approach.
“Now that’s a raven,” Lawrence said, stroking his moustache with two fingers. When asked how he could tell from such a distance, he shrugged.
“There are no crows around here. Further south and around my pond maybe, but not here. And it didn’t fly like a barred owl.”
DECADES OF EXPERIENCE
Lawrence speaks with the casual assurance of a man confident in his natural habitat, with an almost encyclopedic knowledge of his surroundings.
And though some may balk at the idea of spending most of their working life in extreme isolation, patiently waiting for elusive and potentially dangerous subjects to show themselves, it’s something that he cherishes.
“I’m not very good at checking in with my wife, because I never know where I’m going. There’s no cell phone coverage out here,” he said, happily. He brings a chainsaw with him on every trip in case he gets trapped by a fallen tree.
Lawrence explained this was the route he takes pretty much daily, as he heads out to search for yet another perfectly timed natural moment. And no matter how many he gets, he’s never quite satisfied. Only a few days earlier he’d captured a river otter scampering along the road.
“I saw it running along the side like a little dog. It’s movements were kind of like an inch worm, with tiny legs. I got a few good photos of him.”
Lawrence had invited me along to experience his work day firsthand, and together we were planning to spend a few hours snow-shoeing for a feature article I was writing for Route 3 magazine.
In October last year Lawrence, who has had a successful multi-decade career in both photography and teaching, got a taste of a new sort of success when his image of a five-year-old grizzly bear looking through his camera tripod went viral online, earning him attention nationwide.
I’d already written about him for the Star, after he was the subject of local filmmaker Miriam Neeboda’s documentary Eyes in the Forest, and was fascinated by how he described his photographic aesthetic, based on the portraiture of Armenian-Canadian photographer Yousuf Karsh.
“He focused on the eyes,” Lawrence told me. “You can apply that to all of wildlife, because animals will look at you. They’ll look you right in the eye and you just have to be patient and be ready for that.You see it with your eye. You feel it with your heart and then you push the shutter.”
ANIMAL PASSION
Before we reached our destination, Lawrence spotted a friend eating lunch in a gargantuan orange snowplough parked snow-chained on the shoulder.
“This is what it’s like when you live in the middle of nowhere. You recognize everyone,” he said.
Lawrence pulled over to chat, and within moments the two friends were discussing a cougar hunt that had happened nearby, a topic that both had strong feelings on.
“These hunters, they get dogs with GPS to chase a cougar up a tree and then they come along and shoot him. It’s disgusting as hell, and degrading. It’s a new event in the valley here. We’ve never had outfitters coming in before,” Lawrence said, with disgust.
He was particularly angry that the government is allowing foreign hunters to come to Canada to kill grizzly bears.
“Until 2001 there was a moratorium on trophy hunting in B.C. Then the Liberals came in and undid it, and they’ve been going ever since. The problem is nobody knows how many bears there are in B.C. In 2006 they claim there were 6,000, but it 2007 they claimed 11,000.”
And bears are more than just numbers to Lawrence—some of them he knows quite well. Take Apple, for instance, the solidly built grizzly that he’s captured in photos multiple times. Because of the long-term trust he’s developed with her, Apple is no longer bothered by his presence.
And since the province takes in more money from wilderness viewing than selling hunting licenses, Lawrence feels there should be a shift in priorities. But he tries to be respectful about it.
“One guy I know was walking up and down the road with a rifle. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was searching for an elk to shoot. I tried to convince him, you know, chicken tastes really good. I don’t know know if he got the humour in that or if he got the message, though.”
Perhaps the subject he’s most upset about is the ongoing wolf cull, which is intended to protect endangered caribou from extinction. Lawrence’s voice cracked with emotion as he described snipers firing their weapons from helicopters mid-flight, picking off the wolves as they try to hide—an action he considers reprehensible.
“It’s a lose-lose-lose situation,” he said.
TRYING TO KEEP UP
After saying goodbye to Lawrence’s friend, we arrived at our destination. According to Lawrence, nine times out of ten he comes home with nothing to show for his efforts. And though he didn’t know exactly what we were going to find, he had a pretty good idea of what we were looking for—an image that expresses reverence for the creatures and the landscapes he encounters.
“You ready to have some fun?” he asked.
By the time Lawrence and I hiked over a few embankments, stopping periodically to marvel at the ethereal light dancing on the snow banks and the quiet groan of the ancient trees ascending into the canopy above us, I was already sucking back nostril-shots of the winter air.
Lawrence, meanwhile, was trekking ahead tirelessly. He pointed out some devil’s club, bobbing under the snow, and gave me a lesson in the different kinds of mushrooms.
If I’d been capable of taking notes at that point, I’d be able to go into more detail right now. But at the time I was more concerned about the body-wide onslaught of sweat, which was stinging into my eyes and dripping off the tip of my nose. My shoulders steamed.
During one of my moments of rest-heaving, I raised my eyes and was met with a glowing bulb of ice dangling from a delicate strands of emerald moss. Inspired, I pulled out my camera to get a macro shot. Within moments Lawrence was by my side, pulling out his camera as well.
It occurred to me in that moment that we must have made a funny sight, two grown men trying to capture this minuscule detail amidst the enormity of the forest, passing our cameras back and forth excitedly like wonder-filled children.
ENGAGING WITH NATURE
After a few hours, Lawrence easily navigated us back to his car. We hadn’t spotted any wildlife, but I was feeling invigorated regardless. After stopping at Drifter’s, a local diner that happened to be displaying his work on the walls, I asked Lawrence if he had any sort of advice for those interested in engaging with their natural surroundings.
“Engage? Is that a word you use?” he asked, pondering the question. “I would say get a bird feeder, somewhere where you’re going to see birds, then try to identify them. They’re so inexpensive and it can be thrilling because it’s right there every day.”
His other key piece of advice: walk.
“Walk around and go looking. It’s infectious and it grows on you, until pretty soon the only thing you’re doing is looking for animals.”
He told me a good wildlife photographer should also have three lenses—a wide angle, mid-range and telephoto. But the most important part isn’t the gear, according to him. It’s the mindset—paying attention to the world around you and giving it the attention and respect it deserves.
In other words: always be ready to take in what the world’s offering.
“If you pay attention, Will, I promise you’ll eventually see an owl,” he told me, reminding me to scan the trees during my trip back to Nelson. We shook hands in his driveway and he thanked me for the visit, promising to take me out again during bear season. (Maybe we’ll see Apple!)
And though I didn’t see an owl that evening, I got a pretty good shot of the sun setting over Kootenay Lake.
For more information on Jim Lawrence visit kootenayreflections.com
