I mentioned yesterday that I was feeling out of sorts and intended to go out for some fresh air and exercise. I headed for the hill, where I sometimes walk; the theory is that the uphill trudge is good for my heart, although who knows. When I left the house I actually looked right at the camera, my old X-T1 and the fast 35mm lens for it, and thought, should I take that?
I swear I had just this exact thought: I always see something good up on the hill.
But I only took the phone, the real purpose of which is so I can call somebody if I keel over with the apoplexy from hill-climbing, at my age. It was a beautiful evening, high 40s (about 8 degrees for those of you in civilization) and clear as can be. A nearly full moon risen against the still-blue sky, and gorgeous, delicate clouds. A dissipating contrail rose like a plume from where the road met the horizon.
As I was passing my friend Honeybee Dave's western pasture, I noticed a young cow who's solid brown—how now, brown cow? All the rest are black and white. Further up the hill I spied Dave himself, up by his barn on a higher knoll, turning hay in a bale feeder, so I headed off the road along his fencerow toward him. I hailed him and waved.
When I got closer I said, "I see you've got a youngster in the lower pasture who's brown."
"A youngster," he answered. "You want to see some real youngsters?"
"You've got a new one?"
"Two new ones," he answered, "Three days old. I'll show you."
His Daisy had thrown twins, turned out. Her third time as a mother. "I didn't see it coming," he said. His first clue should have been when she "blew two bubbles," as he put it, meaning her water broke twice. The second birth was a near-run thing. The two youngsters are Hope and Moses, and Moses, the male, spent too much time in the birth canal, and came out not breathing. Dave himself gave the newborn calf his first breath, and then he and his friend Pam, who was helping, had to keep Moses "roughed up and agitated"—up and moving—for the first two hours of his life while his lungs cleared.
Moses and Hope. At three days old they're about the size
of St. Bernard dogs, and soft to the touch.
Daisy trusts Dave so much that she didn't even have to be haltered and tied during the whole birthing procedure. She just stood for him.
The calves, too, are laid-back as can be, not skittish at all. Hope came right over to me and stood while I patted her head and skritched behind her ears. They played un-selfconsciously in their pen, relaxed as can be.
Hope at age 30 seconds. Taken by Dave right before
all the commotion with Moses began.
Was I ever feeling sheepish, though. I just got accused by a reader of not being a photographer, and there I was taking pictures in the shady barn with a phone. Dang. We need to talk about this thing where you leave your camera behind because you kinda have a camera on you. But more about that at a later time.
Seeing the calves restored my spirits—"made my day," as the saying goes. As Dave and I were talking outdoors, while he worked at the bale feeder, a magnificent sleek raptor came by, flying low and steady. Dave didn't have his glasses on but he thought it was bird called a harrier. A moment later its mate followed across the tops of the trees, against the clouds and the lowering sun. Dave has a thing about raptors, and he lives in the right place, because there are a lot of them around here.
As I started back down the hill, having taken my leave of Dave and his cows, the sun setting behind the high ridge of the bluff across the lake, I saw three deer running stiff-legged along the tree line at the back of a fallow pasture, the smallest one kicking its heels up. It was that kind of evening, when you feel glad to be alive.
Moses, who is fine now, is a handsome young fellow, with a
distinctive white face. The tip of his tail is white too.
"Want to know why I named him 'Moses'?" Honeybee Dave asked. "I'm going to call him 'Mo.'" He paused and then with a peal of a laugh said, "There was one Mo!"
Mike
P.S. Did you notice the lens flare in the first shot? A faint echo diametrically opposite the bright sunlight coming through the slats, on Moses' leg and below it.
Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.
Please help The Online Photographer via Patreon
(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
hugh crawford: "Holstein with maybe some Jersey?
"Cows are pretty stoic about calving. Goats, on the other hand, go completely bonkers. My grandmother used to bring her Sunday school class out to the farm to watch cows calving, because it made sense to her I guess.
The first time one of our goats had a kid, she had her Sunday school girls out to watch, and it was a huge hullabaloo. She called the large animal vet, who said, '...so is she acting like she’s having a seizure or is it more of a possessed-by-demons kind of thing?' and without pausing added, 'they’re like that.'
"That evening my mother asked my grandmother how things went, and she said, 'I don't think they'll even have boyfriends.'"
James: "Re 'I always see something good up on the hill.' OK, so from now on why don't you make a regular point of... a.) going up the hill for your health and b.) taking a camera with you for TOP's health?"
Kenneth Wajda: "Speaking for myself, I am unable to go anywhere without bringing a camera, I can’t leave the house or step out the door for a walk without one. I guess it's just years of repetition. I'm a firm believer that inspiration exists but it has to find you working.
"A year ago I was in a small town at sunset and thought, there is nobody out; it's not going to be good for anything; I should just go home. But then I decided to walk the alleys between the houses and I ended up with photographs that I love that I never would’ve gotten except that I showed up. Taking the camera brings the photo opportunity for you."
James: "Re 'Was I ever feeling sheepish, though.' In a post about cows. Thanks for that, Mike. ;-) "
Mike replies: :-)
RubyT: "This reminded me of last summer. My family had arrived at our motel in Wisconsin, where we would meet with my stepdaughter and grandkids to see Cave of the Mounds. My daughters and I decided to walk next door to Walgreens for the heating pad I'd forgotten to pack. I thought to myself 'there is no chance I will need a camera for Walgreens.' We ran into a herpetologist who was exercising his snakes, many of which we got to hold, and there I was with only my phone."
Mike replies: Oh, ouch. That's certainly something you can't go back for another time.
Sometimes I get the 'umbrella effect' too, when I think that taking my camera causes all the picture opportunities to disappear. (Like, when you take your umbrella, it doesn't rain.) I guess having a camera with you all the time irons out both effects.
Keith Mitchell: "I'm still haunted by the time I left my camera behind when living in Vancouver Canada in 2008. A mother Skunk and her half dozen very young offspring trailed along a wall In front of me when I was out walking. In my family I famously always have a camera with me. Here I am in my home town of Perth Australia, in isolation, still pondering a lost opportunity 12 years later."
Sara Piazza: "The best thing I've done for myself in a long while is picking up a little Lumix LX100 Mark II. It is with me at all times. It is very handy and has all of the professional bells and whistles. It took me awhile to learn all of the settings and knobs and dials and at first it seemed quite a bit like flying a jet plane or maybe flying a jet plane would have been easier, but I love the little thing. For the first time in a long time I feel as though I have a camera that is a true extension of myself, and so much better than the phone (and I have great phone/camera). Yes, I still get the big cameras and lenses out every now and then but the Lumix is always on my hip. Sara on the Vineyard."
Mike replies: I was just looking at that very thing last night! What was the tiny Panasonic that they made a while back? Couldn't find that one.
I had to go back for my camera yesterday - spent teh afternoon with my phone on Zoom showing bison to my Cub Scout den, and when my wife wanted to go for a walk...I figured I needed to get at least one closer shot.
Seeing the bison and then deer come out , all of them peaceful and playful, was a really nice cap to the day.
Posted by: Rob L | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:33 AM
Sometimes it's nice to just experience life unfiltered and allow yourself to be "in the moment" (as the Buddhist and mindfulness folks would say) as opposed to trying to document the moment. I find that my desire to take photographs and my desire to try to stay in the moment frequently conflict, so have tried to balance them somehow. Of course, it is possible to use photography to actually pull you more into the moment but that requires a discipline and headset that I don't always have. I think that film photography lends itself more to this approach--less technological stuff to bring out my "monkey mind". "Chimp-ing Mind"? =-)
Posted by: Steve Rosenblum | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:40 AM
" there I was taking pictures in the shady barn with a phone. Dang. We need to talk about this thing where you leave your camera behind because you kinda have a camera on you. But more about that at a later time."
How about now - from me! As I await the arrival of funds to start a new project, I am in a similar state of using a venerable Fuji X Pro 1 and an iPhone 7 and I, too, have found myself frequently going on an exercise hike with only the phone with me for mostly just emergency reasons.
Your story produces a theoretical parallel in my mind. What should I buy soon to "replace" the Fuji? I have a choice of going all out and getting a high megapixel camera coupled with a hunkin heavy 2.8 zoom and/or some primes OR just a nice small and light but capable upgrade to the X-Pro 1, which would technically satisfy the needs of my project (even an XT-30 would). Money aside, I have been thinking about what I would do after my project is over. I can honestly see a future "fun" photo hike with just the iPhone or X-Pro 1 still with me rather than carry some far more proficient outfit that weighs 1 to 2 lbs more...
Posted by: Dave Van de Mark | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 11:42 AM
I assume you're aware of the contradiction between posting on Sunday, April 5 that it's all about lenses for you, and then on the very next day you feature photos you took with your iPhone. I understand why this is the case: an iPhone is undeniably more convenient for posting photos to TOP. But speaking only for myself, there's a limit to how persuasive and instructive you can be about the look of film and lenses without showing actual examples.
[Missed the P.S.? --Mike]
Posted by: Gordon Lewis | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 12:08 PM
It was worth reading that for the last line, not to say the rest was chaff. If you ever get a chance to watch the Dutch mini-series "Holland`s Hope", it is like that. Good all the way through, but the last line will bust you up.
Posted by: Clayton | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 12:27 PM
Have you considered packing a really compact camera, such as the Lumix LX7 or later? I carry mine in a small belt pouch. It's a snug fit, but the camera is always there, and small enough that I don't notice that I'm carrying it.
Posted by: MikeR | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 12:35 PM
Mike, as an avid fan of your prose style, I often feel like I’ve been transported back in time and reading Poor Richard’s Almanack—this installment a good example. TOP is always a joy to read, whether it’s a photographic topic or not. As you’ve mentioned, ‘made my day.’
Posted by: William Cook | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 12:47 PM
"P.S. Did you notice the lens flare in the first shot?"
A good reminder for your past article:
https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/how-to-stress-a-camera-le.html
That post about Daisy and her offspring was very enjoyable. I'm glad you had at least some kind of camera with you. (The photos looked perfectly fine to me.)
Here was an expression that was new to me: "His Daisy had thrown twins . . . "
Thanks also for continuing to keep virus-free so that we get to read your blog entries, either while at home or trying to stay awake at work during this slow sales period.
Posted by: Dave | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 03:18 PM
That would do, Mike. That would do.
Posted by: Richard Man | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 03:26 PM
"It was that kind of evening, when you feel glad to be alive."
Beautiful post. Thanks, Mike. Maybe it was better not to have a "real" camera with you. Like Steve, sometimes a camera gets in the way of my living the moment; though on the other hand sometimes one helps me see more deeply.
I'm curious how the crafts of photography and writing interact for you, particularly in these moments, but more generally, too.
Posted by: robert e | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 04:24 PM
I'm reading this and thinking 'how close was he to the farmer? doesn't he know what's coming? does he want to die or kill his friends?'. It's like reading something from some kind of prelapsarian fantasy world. This is why hundreds of thousands of people are going to die in the US.
[I've been sheltering in place for two weeks and a day now, and Dave and I didn't break social distancing. 100% compliance here. But still worried, like everyone. --Mike]
Posted by: Tim Bradshaw | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 05:20 PM
Mike, it's not your age that could cause you to keel over but your condition (or the lack of it). Regular brisk walking - up that hill, down it and around the whole place - is the solution. You've worked on your diet and now you really need to get to grips with exercise. And make sure you take a camera!
Posted by: Simon | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 06:06 PM
So, Mike, with lockdown/shelter-in-place, why are you visiting someone else? Please, stay home/stay safe/keep others safe.
[I never got closer than a dozen feet to Dave. It's the grocery store that's the problem. --Mike]
Posted by: Michael Potter | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 06:13 PM
Mike, your lyrical writing in this piece reminds me of Verlyn Klinkenborg's editorials in The New York Times. I think they were a long series called The Rural Life, or something like that. Thank you for sharing your stroll up the hill and into the barn.
Posted by: Gary Merken | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 06:49 PM
Mike, I love it. Get out and photograph. Discover what's around you and share. Too little of that happening - maybe our restricted travel will allow us to see more of the world around us. Social distancing does not preclude social interaction.
Posted by: Rick in CO | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:05 PM
They make this real high quality camera that fits in any pocket called Ricoh GR, you know ;)
Posted by: Chris | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:10 PM
Remember heavy hands jogging. I think the idea was to run while carrying weights in your hands to tone your arms or something, not really sure anymore. Well, if walking up that hill is a good cardio workout, then walking up holding one of those medium format cameras would be better, no?
Animals are surprisingly good company.
Posted by: Robert Roaldi | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:11 PM
Due to the universal constant that the likelihood of a photo happening is in inverse proportion to the amount of camera one is carrying, I always have one on me; I just don't tell the universe about it.
Posted by: TC | Monday, 06 April 2020 at 10:54 PM
Hey, Mike Slip a 27mm 2.8 pancake on that X-T1 and you should be able to slip it into a large pocket or very small shoulder bag. This is a very capable lens and relatively inexpensive--my choice, on an X-pro 2, when I just want to be sure I've got a camera with me. Just an idea.
Posted by: William Poole | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 12:01 AM
The more you carry your camera the easier it is to carry your camera. I always bring a camera. My friends, neighbors, and coworkers have come to expect that I'll document our times together.
Posted by: David Raboin | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 01:14 AM
Hi Mike,
I don't think that's flare on the iPhone. I see this quite often whenever I have the sun strong and clear in the frame, e.g.:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BpDHq3Vl7DR/
If I consider the position of the sun in the frame, the corresponding blob (here quite subtle due to the morning fog - it's often very much stronger) is always "twice mirrored", i.e., mirrored along both the horizontal and vertical axes. I see the exact same thing in your picture, except it's not a dot but a streak, since the extreme highlight is also a streak (of the same shape, you will notice). Hope this explanation makes sense :-)
My theory is that it's a reflection coming off the sensor, hitting the rear lens element, and then reflecting back onto the sensor again. I remember occasionally having seen it on film as well in nighttime photography.
You should be able to replicate the effect yourself quite easily.
Soeren
[Sounds very logical Soeren, but that's still flare, which is stray light within the optical path of a camera-lens system. There are all sorts of types and causes of flare. No one's ever bothered to specify them all, that I know of, because they're all mostly, well, a bother. --Mike]
Posted by: Soeren Engelbrecht | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 09:44 AM
I second the suggestion for the 27mm pancake, though on one of the more pocketable Fuji’s of the X-A or X-E series.
Posted by: Richard Parkin | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 11:33 AM
Mike replies: I was just looking at that very thing last night! What was the tiny Panasonic that they made a while back? Couldn't find that one.
Are you thinking of the Panasonic LX2? I got one of those years ago to take when traveling. When traveling I like to carry a very small pocket camera at absolutely all times, even if I'm carrying my "real " camera, and this on caught my attention. It has a 16:9 sensor(!) and a setting for 4:3 or 3:2 format, and when you choose one of those, it quite simply lops off the ends of the frame. So it's not a tiny slip cut out out of a more "normal" frame. And, it has a CCD sensor, so the color is very good.
As a result of the sensor being CCD, it gets noisy quick. Really quick. But I've still got it and I forever hold it against Panasonic for not upgrading it. Like my Sony R1, sometimes there's no substitute. It's my digital xPan.
Bill Pearce
Posted by: Bill Pearce | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 12:15 PM
Instead walk to the cow they walked to my tiny patch of grass daily. Just passed by but stayed for a few bite. Black and brown. Buffalo is seldom seen.
Posted by: Dennis Ng | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 12:53 PM
Photographer? Writer? You are a seer, what you do with what you see is up to you. Your prose was beautiful and evocative. It painted pictures in my mind, and made me want to see what your photographs of those scenes would have looked like.
Posted by: Tom Hassler | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 08:09 PM
It's a good week for a Moses: tomorrow evening begins Passover, where we celebrate the story of Exodus.
Posted by: Ben Rosengart | Tuesday, 07 April 2020 at 10:59 PM
Mike replies: I was just looking at that very thing last night! What was the tiny Panasonic that they made a while back? Couldn't find that one.
Do you mean the LF1? It had a 1/1.7" sensor and a 28-200 equivalent lens (although fairly slow at the long end). Panasonic stopped making it a number of years ago. Below is a comparison to the LX100 II. The height and length are not too different, but the LF1 is much smaller in width.
https://camerasize.com/compare/#456,793
Posted by: Duncan | Wednesday, 08 April 2020 at 05:47 PM