“Now I am revealing new things to you,
things hidden and unknown to you.
Created just now, this very moment…
so that you cannot say, ‘Yes, I knew this.’”
— Isaiah 48:6–7
Welcoming Another Year Before Sunrise
March 19th was my birthday.
For the past three years, I’ve celebrated it the same way—by going to Grand Teton National Park. It has become my place, my quiet tradition with God.
I welcomed this birthday the way I love most—early, in the dark, full of anticipation.
By 4:20 a.m., I was awake. By 5:10, I was on the road, heading toward the Tetons with Levon as my copilot.
Levon is a lucky pup. At just six months old, his paws have already touched Grand Teton soil four times.
The Journey In: A Reminder to Stay Alert
The day began with a quiet warning.
On the way to Pinedale, a porcupine crossed the road right in front of me—slow, steady, and completely unaware of how fragile that moment was. It made me alert instantly, like the day was whispering: pay attention.
Driving through Hoback Canyon, elk appeared along the highway. Calm. Present. Watching.
Levon stayed focused on the road on the way in, fully committed to his role as copilot.
On the way back… not so much. He abandoned his post for the back seat, stretched out, and fell into a deep sleep. Three long walks in the park will do that to a puppy.
An Elk Day Under Golden Light
It turned out to be an elk kind of day.
We saw them everywhere—but at first, there was nowhere to stop. I always try to respect the park and only pull over in designated areas, even when it’s tempting not to.
Then, near the airport, everything slowed down.
A large herd stood in the soft light of sunrise. The sun was just rising, painting everything in gold. I spent an hour there, alone with them.
And in that quiet, I prayed.
I thanked God for 42 years of life.
For bringing us to Wyoming.
For moments like this—unearned, undeserved, and deeply felt.
But not everything was beautiful.
The elk were trying to cross the road. One would step forward, testing the moment… then retreat as cars rushed by, spooking the entire herd again and again.
Then I saw something that broke my heart.
One elk was eating a trash bag.
That moment stayed with me. When we go outdoors, we carry responsibility with us. What we leave behind doesn’t disappear—it becomes part of their world. Thankfully, it spit it out. But still… it shouldn’t have happened.
When I got back to the truck, Levon had chewed my brand new Peak Design backpack.
I just looked at him. Birthday lesson, I guess—nothing is perfect.
Moose at the Entrance: A Quiet Gift
We continued toward the Moose entrance—how fitting.
And right there, as if placed just for us, were two moose.
They stood quietly, almost like silhouettes against the morning. We stayed for about 45 minutes, photographing them as they slowly moved through the light.
I loved those images. Simple. Quiet. Honest.
And I couldn’t stop thinking how blessed I am to be able to pursue this dream—this life of chasing wildlife, light, and moments that most people never get to see.
Eventually, they disappeared into the aspens, like they were never there.
Sharing the Moment with Strangers
On the way back, we found the elk again—this time near the roundabout.
I parked and spent another hour with them.
But this time, I wasn’t alone.
People started gathering, curious. I let them look through my viewfinder so they could see the elk up close—the details, the emotion, the presence of a big bull standing watch over the herd.
There’s something special about sharing that moment.
Watching someone’s face light up when they really see wildlife for the first time.
The Long Walk to the Wedding Tree
After that, we headed to the Wedding Tree for a long hike.
The wind, the quiet, the open space—it felt like a pause. Like the day giving me time to breathe everything in.
The Ones We Didn’t See
Before heading home, we stopped at the place where the bighorn sheep usually gather.
This time, they weren’t there.
But that didn’t take anything away.
Levon and I still took a long walk. He deserved it—for being… mostly a good boy. (Even if my backpack would disagree.)
Ending the Day with Gratitude
I drove home with a full heart.
Grateful for every animal we saw.
Grateful for the ones we didn’t.
Grateful for the light, the quiet, the lessons.
And in the back of the truck, a completely exhausted puppy slept the whole way home.
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Final Thoughts: What This Birthday Meant
This day wasn’t perfect.
There were missed chances, a chewed backpack, and moments that hurt to witness.
But maybe that’s exactly the point.
God doesn’t just reveal beauty—He reveals truth.
In the wild, in the quiet, in the unexpected.
And this birthday, I didn’t just celebrate life.
I felt it.
