Two winners in the Top 100 of the 2022 Audubon Photography Awards
19th July 2022
I was thrilled and honored to have 2 of my images win spots in the top 100 of Audubon’s most respected annual photo contest. The winning photo and write up are on the Audubon website here. Mine are #35 and #58, not ranks, but just to help you find them easier.
Also, my flicker shot was included in the 2023 Audubon Photography Awards contest promotional video and selected as the thumbnail https://vimeo.com/786054542
Congrats to all of the winners! The competition was stiff with 10,000 entries from 2,500 photographers. I was inspired by viewing the winners work and loved learning little tidbits about each species along the way.
Below are my two winning photos and my write ups as they appear on the Audubon website.
Canada Jay
Behind the Shot: In winter, the world above 4,000 feet in the White Mountains is brutally cold but enchanting. Impressively, Canada Jays will mate, nest, and raise chicks up here between February and early April, when temperatures are still below zero degrees Fahrenheit, and the forest is buried in snow and encased in rime ice. I made the 6-mile roundtrip hike with 2,200 feet of vertical gain on a 10-degree January morning to photograph this bird. The biggest challenge was standing still in the biting wind, and I routinely stuffed my hands under my clothes to regain feeling in them. It paid off when this Canada Jay landed on the top of a stunted spruce tree, shattering delicate rime ice crystals.
Northern Flicker
Behind the Shot: At the outset of the pandemic, my family was delighted to discover a pair of Northern Flickers making their home within sight of ours. Early in the nesting cycle, we observed the pair switching off who would stay in the hole, presumably to incubate the eggs. I set up some concealment in the nearby bushes and would shoot through overhanging leaves to create this natural blurred green frame. As the season progressed, we observed both parents making many more return trips to the nest, feeding the chicks who grew bigger each day. They poked their begging bills out of the nest hole. We may have spent more time at home that spring, but we still felt connected to the wider world through this window to the wild.
Also, my flicker shot was included in the 2023 Audubon Photography Awards contest promotional video and selected as the thumbnail https://vimeo.com/786054542
Congrats to all of the winners! The competition was stiff with 10,000 entries from 2,500 photographers. I was inspired by viewing the winners work and loved learning little tidbits about each species along the way.
Below are my two winning photos and my write ups as they appear on the Audubon website.
Canada Jay
Behind the Shot: In winter, the world above 4,000 feet in the White Mountains is brutally cold but enchanting. Impressively, Canada Jays will mate, nest, and raise chicks up here between February and early April, when temperatures are still below zero degrees Fahrenheit, and the forest is buried in snow and encased in rime ice. I made the 6-mile roundtrip hike with 2,200 feet of vertical gain on a 10-degree January morning to photograph this bird. The biggest challenge was standing still in the biting wind, and I routinely stuffed my hands under my clothes to regain feeling in them. It paid off when this Canada Jay landed on the top of a stunted spruce tree, shattering delicate rime ice crystals.
Northern Flicker
Behind the Shot: At the outset of the pandemic, my family was delighted to discover a pair of Northern Flickers making their home within sight of ours. Early in the nesting cycle, we observed the pair switching off who would stay in the hole, presumably to incubate the eggs. I set up some concealment in the nearby bushes and would shoot through overhanging leaves to create this natural blurred green frame. As the season progressed, we observed both parents making many more return trips to the nest, feeding the chicks who grew bigger each day. They poked their begging bills out of the nest hole. We may have spent more time at home that spring, but we still felt connected to the wider world through this window to the wild.