Page 20 of Capture the Moment

If this was the last one, then it was going to be the best hunt of his life.

Six

The wildlife and its habitat cannot speak, so we must and we will.

—Theodore Roosevelt

Later that evening, lying in bed with a book on her chest, too exhausted to hold the book aloft, Kate couldn’t shake the scorn she’d received from the other photographers. She had tried to defend herself, to not take it to heart, but these last two days had given her a rude awakening to reality. While she had observed all kinds of animal behavior at the zoo, and she’d had the opportunity to photograph rare species, the truth was that she had no idea what it took to be a wildlife photographer. She’d planned for everything—the right equipment, the right clothing, the right venues. But she couldn’t plan for unpredictability. She couldn’t fake experience.

That was the difference between being a photographer of animals in the zoo or in the wild. Predictability.

Kate had grown up immersed in a family that upheld the tradition of predictability. Both parents were history professors at American University in Washington DC, and her older brother was diligently following their lead by pursuing an academiccareer. Their house in Alexandria, Virginia, a six-generation relic on the historical registry, bore witness to the family’s aversion to change. Even the wallpaper remained untouched, a nod to their steadfast commitment to the Cunningham Way of Life—safe, risk-free, and firmly grounded in the past.

Kate tried to fit in, but she was definitely a square peg in a round hole. It might not have been obvious to outsiders, but to anyone in the family, it was clear as day. She wanted to carve out her own path, find her own way. The family’s way just wasn’t going to cut it for her.

Unlike Kate’s brilliant brother and parents, school posed a lot of challenges for her. Rather than attending a traditional four-year college, her only option was a community college, much to her mother’s mortification. With an uncertainty about her vocation, Kate explored various classes until she stumbled upon photography. It was recognition from her instructor, who saw promise in her work, that marked a pivotal moment in her life.

With encouragement from the instructor and with his help, she embarked on a career of photography. Freelance, of course. Birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, a super casual wedding. One job led to another and another. She’d finally found something she excelled at.

The turning point came with a gig at the zoo, and just like that—boom—everything came into focus. She was hooked. Capturing animals became a thrilling pursuit. She felt she had grown to understand the creatures in the zoo, and she loved them dearly. She recognized their patterns, their habits. But there were no untold stories in a zoo. She had learned all she could from the zoo about wild animals. It was time to start applying her learning to the actual wilderness.

And then, six months ago, she’d learned about Grizzly Bear 399 for the first time. Consumed by curiosity, she delved intoevery available piece of information about her. For the first time, stirred by the tale of this grizzly, Kate yearned to confront the unknown. She’d done a deep dive into grizzly bears—their behavior, habitat, patterns, and everything she could learn about 399 (hours and hours of watching bear videos). She’d worked out to build her endurance and learned some survival skills (maybe not as many as she should have). She’d bought the Sony Alpha (maybe hadn’t quite mastered it, but she was getting there). But she hadn’t thought to study the fieldcraft—how different it would be with animals in the wild.

For that, she was getting a crash course.

Thoughts of photographing 399 in Grand Teton National Park, finding a shot that no one else had yet taken of her, occupied Kate’s mind incessantly. She planned to quit the zoo and head to the park, supporting herself as a freelance photographer ... until her parents, horrified, strongly objected. Kate compromised (caved in?) and agreed to use her vacation time at the park. For now.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at caller ID. Oliver. She let out a deep sigh. She couldn’t talk to him now, not when she was exhausted, needed a shower, and even more importantly, was feeling insecure. He’d sniff out her self-doubt and make it worse.

She remembered when she had first told Oliver about her plans to go to the Grand Tetons. They were sitting on her couch (Always at her place. Never at his. She’d never even seen where he lived. He traveled so often that he said his apartment was bare-bones. Modest and messy. She doubted it, though. Oliver was the kind of guy who never had a hair out of place, who even had his jeans dry cleaned.) and she was showing him her portfolio of animals taken at the zoo. When she came to the photos of the brown bears, she told him about her idea to photograph Grizzly 399 in the wild.

Amusement decorated his face, but there was something else behind his eyes, lingering just for a moment. He actually seemed intrigued. “Tell me more.”

So she did.

“The most famous bear in the world, you say? And you think there haven’t been enough photographs of it?”

“Well ... I guess it’s about finding a photograph that tells a new story about her.”

“Perhaps you should try a less challenging subject.”

“Why?” she’d asked.

“You’ve never gone camping. You’ve never gone hiking, for that matter. You live in a city.”

“Urban skills can translate to the wilderness.”

He gave her a look as if to say,Are you joking?

But she wasn’t joking. She really believed that city life had given her survival skills. Flexibility, heightened awareness, adaptability.

“What are you going to do when the weather gets bad?”

“What do you mean?”

“You spend rainy weekends at the Smithsonian. Hot ones too.”

Well, sure. She lived in Virginia where summers were beastly hot. Where rain could come down like bullets. “I can manage a little rain. Besides, I’m not expecting this to take very long. I just need to get the right photograph.”

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