“My pretty birds are back.”
That was the message my friend sent me.
I knew exactly who she meant.
The sandhill cranes.
And I couldn't wait to see them.
How I Started Getting to Know These Birds
I've been a wildlife photographer for the last five years.
Over those five years, I've looked through my viewfinder at hundreds of animals. Some I've seen only once. Others I've been lucky enough to see again and again.
And somewhere along the way, something happened.
I started getting attached to them.
When you photograph wildlife long enough, you start recognizing things.
You recognize a face.
A certain walk.
The way an animal moves through the grass.
You remember where you've seen them before.
You start wondering what happened to them when you don't see them for a while.
I have a friend who lives on a beautiful piece of Wyoming where wildlife seems to know they are welcome.
Moose come through. Blue herons stop by. Sandhill cranes wander around. Deer and horses are regular visitors. And all kinds of little critters show up.
I've even seen a skunk casually cruising through the property.
You never really know what you're going to find.
And that is one of the things I love about it.
This is my second year going to her property before sunrise to photograph wildlife.
Last year, I got to know a family of sandhill cranes.
A mom.
A dad.
And their baby.
Watching a Sandhill Crane Colt Grow
Every time I saw them, the colt was a little bigger.
I watched it grow through my viewfinder.
At first, it was so tiny that it almost disappeared into the grass.
Then, little by little, I could see it changing.
Those are the moments that make wildlife photography so special to me.
It's not always about getting the photograph.
Sometimes it's about being there long enough to see a story unfold.
This year, the little one arrived first.
A couple of days later, the parents came back. They kick out the colt and started a new nest.
And then my friend sent me that message:
“My pretty birds are back.”
I went the next morning. they came and check me out.
And when I looked through my viewfinder and saw that familiar curved bill, my heart jumped.
It felt like I was seeing an old friend.
I know they don't know me.
They are wild birds, and I'm just this person sitting quietly with a camera.
But I knew them.
At least, I knew their little family.
And seeing them again felt like coming back to something familiar.
I Had Missed My Quiet Mornings in Wyoming
This summer has been busy.
Really busy.
We've been going from weddings to senior sessions, camping trips, the STOL competition, and trying to find wildlife whenever we could.
I've photographed a lot this summer.
But I haven't spent nearly as many mornings looking for wildlife as I wanted to.
And honestly?
I missed it.
I missed waking up when it was still dark.
I missed driving somewhere before sunrise without knowing what I was going to find.
I missed sitting quietly and waiting.
There is something about those mornings that I can't really explain.
Everything is still.
The world hasn't quite woken up yet.
And for a little while, it's just me, my camera, the cold Wyoming air, and whatever God decides to put in front of me.
The Tiny Sandhill Crane Colt
I did get to see the crane family this year.
The baby was tiny.
And getting a photograph of it was almost impossible.
Sandhill cranes are incredibly protective of their babies, and I wasn't about to get too close just for a photograph.
The little colt would disappear into the tall grass, and sometimes I could barely see it.
And honestly, I was okay with that.
I'm very protective of their space.
I would rather go home without a photograph than make an animal uncomfortable just so I can get one.
So I watched.
I waited.
And I hoped I'd get another chance.
The Morning They Danced
Then one day, I got another message.
The sandhill cranes were in her front yard.
And they had brought their baby.
They were introducing me to their little one.
So I went the next morning.
Before sunrise.
And something happened that I had never seen before.
They danced.
I've photographed sandhill cranes for years, but I had never seen them dance.
And of course, I was completely unprepared.
My shutter speed was too low.
My ISO was high.
My camera settings were absolutely not ready for what was happening.
But honestly?
I didn't care.
I was just watching.
There they were, dancing in the darkness before sunrise.
And I remember thinking how lucky I was to be there.
Sometimes you get the photograph.
Sometimes you get the moment.
And sometimes you get both.
That morning, I mostly got the moment.
Then I Tried Something Different
One morning, I went back again.
Usually, I sit in the same little corner and wait for them.
But this time, I decided to move into the field.
The fall colors were starting to show, and I thought it would be beautiful to have all those colors behind the cranes.
It seemed like a good idea.
The cranes disagreed.
They didn't like my new position and walked away.
I watched them leave.
I waited.
And, because this is wildlife photography, they came back right when I was getting ready to leave.
Of course they did. that's the story of my life.
I smiled and packed up anyway.
I'd see them again.
Or at least, I thought I would.
The Message I Didn't Want to Get
That afternoon, I received another message.
This one wasn't exciting.
It was sad.
The sandhill cranes had arrived around 1 p.m.
But they didn't have their baby.
My heart sank.
I went again the next morning. Hoping to see the 3 of them.
I watched the two adults arrive.
And there was no colt.
Just the two of them.
We don't know what happened.
And that's the part that has been bothering me all day.
There is no answer.
Maybe the baby is hurt somewhere.
Maybe it's hiding.
Maybe something happened that we will never know about.
I keep hoping for the first possibility.
But I don't know.
And not knowing is hard.
Wildlife Is Beautiful, But It Is Also Hard
I've been distracted all day thinking about it.
I keep thinking about how easily we take things for granted.
We see a family together and assume they'll stay together.
We watch a baby grow and assume we'll see it again next year.
We get used to seeing them.
And then one day, they're not there.
I've done some reading about cranes and other social birds because I couldn't stop thinking about it.
There is still so much we don't understand about how animals experience loss, but we do know that these animals have strong social bonds and complex relationships.
And that made me think about the pair I'm watching.
I don't know what they're thinking.
I don't know what they understand.
I don't know if they're looking for their baby.
But I know what it feels like for me to see them without it.
And that is enough to break my heart a little.
Sometimes We Don't Get to Know How the Story Ends
I wish I could tell you what happened to that little colt.
I wish I could tell you that tomorrow morning it will suddenly pop its tiny head out of the grass.
I wish I could tell you everything is okay.
But I can't.
I don't know.
And maybe that's one of the hardest things about loving wildlife.
You don't get to control the story.
You don't get to protect them from everything.
You don't get to know how every story ends.
Sometimes you are simply given the privilege of witnessing a small piece of it.
I watched this little family last year.
I watched their baby grow.
This year, I watched them protect another tiny colt.
I watched them dance before sunrise.
And now I'm watching the two adults arrive without their baby.
It's a hard world out there.
There is so much wildlife has to endure that we never see.
And maybe that's why this has affected me so much.
Because for a little while, I felt like I knew these birds.
God's Plans Are Perfect, Even When I Don't Understand Them
I'm a little heartbroken.
I won't pretend I'm not.
I've been thinking about that little crane all day.
And I've been praying that somehow, somewhere, it is okay.
I believe God's plans are perfect.
I just don't always understand them.
And this is one of those times when I really don't.
Maybe the little one will come back.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get a message telling me the baby is okay.
I really hope so.
But whatever happens, I'm grateful I got to know this little family.
I'm grateful I got to watch them grow.
I'm grateful I got to see them dance.
And I'm grateful God allowed me to witness these little pieces of their lives.
Because maybe that's what wildlife photography has taught me more than anything else.
Pay attention.
Slow down.
Don't take the ordinary for granted.
That sunrise.
That bird.
That baby disappearing into the grass.
That familiar curved bill appearing through my viewfinder.
Because sometimes, without knowing it, you're looking at something for the last time.
And maybe that's why I'll keep going back.
I'll sit quietly.
I'll wait.
I'll watch.
I'll photograph when they let me.
And I'll leave them alone when they don't.
Because somewhere along the way, these sandhill cranes stopped being just photographs to me.
They became part of my story.
And I think that's one of the greatest gifts wildlife has ever given me.
If You'd Like to Support My Wildlife Photography
Stories like this are why I keep getting up before sunrise and heading out with my camera.
If you enjoy following along and would like to help me continue doing this work, there are a few ways you can support my photography business.
Bring a piece of Wyoming home.
My wildlife and Wyoming landscape photographs are available as prints and artwork. Every photograph comes from a real moment I've experienced here in Wyoming.
Join my newsletter, Notes from Wyoming.
I share stories from behind the photographs, wildlife encounters, adventures, and the little moments that don't always make it onto social media.
Hire me.
I still photograph weddings, seniors, families, and special moments here in Wyoming. If you're looking for a photographer, I'd love to be part of your story too.
Share my work.
Send one of my photographs to a friend who loves Wyoming. Share a story. Tag someone who might enjoy following along. Those small things make a bigger difference than you might think.
Follow The Overland Diaries.
Come along with me as I explore Wyoming, search for wildlife, chase the light, and try to capture the little stories God puts in front of my camera. Facebook, Instagram and YouTube
And if all you do is read these stories and spend a few minutes looking at the photographs, thank you.
Really.
It means more to me than you know.
Thank you for caring about these animals with me.
— Julieta
