National Cowboy Poetry Gathering

I just returned from the 26th Annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering at the Western Folklife Center in Elko, Nevada. Single digit temperatures and steady snowfall welcomed me from Florida. I couldn't help but ask, why host a gathering at peak of winter? I learned that the coldest months were the times when the cowboys' work slowed enough for them to assemble in town.

I went to Elko to present about Florida cowboys -- a group of people than many of the westerners didn't know to exist. There was great surprise when I shared that Florida has America's oldest ranches as well as the country's top beef producer today.

The Gathering in Elko was my first real exposure to cowboy poetry. The readings were resonant and powerful, representing a genre of poems from working people which I see to have tremendous application for social media campaigns. One of the poets told me that history according to the wealthy and powerful is written in articles and books while history of the working people is written in poems and songs. Poems as voices from the rural frontier? Combine them with photographs and we'll have a recipe for a transcending awareness.

Return to Peru

The last time I was on a flight to Lima was in 2000. I spent a month on the Amazon River living aboard a research vessel named “La Nutria” with Wildlife Conservation Society biologist Richard Bodmer and his team. They were conducting a survey of the varying densities of animals on “restingas” - seasonal forest islands created by flood waters, and I was documenting the expedition. I had just been accepted to graduate school at the University of Florida and taking advantage of a summer opportunity to build my photography portfolio.

Looking back now, these first Peru photographs were in many ways the basis of my career. They gave my portfolio the substance that led Francisco Dallmeier to include me on the first Smithsonian Institution expeditions to Gabon, and six expeditions to follow. It’s this Smithsonian connection that’s taking me back to Peru nine years later. Perhaps more importantly, however, is the philosophy for my ensuing career that my first Peruvian experience represents. By embedding myself with scientists in the field, I was using my camera to tell the story of the places and people on the front lines of conservation. In Gabon, Mali, the Bahamas, and Florida the same recipe has applied. I wrote a thesis titled Conservation Photography exploring the use of photography for conservation and at the same time, through the leadership of Cristina Mittermeier, the modern Conservation Photography movement was being born.

As I return to Peru this time, thanks to nearly a decade of experience and a new field lending credit to my pursuits, my purpose is even clearer than the first time. My challenge is now is to make sure my art has evolved as much as the philosophy behind it.

Conversation with Castro

Stetson hats and cowboy boots strode across the tarmac toward the Havana terminal. Ramon Castro was waiting to greet his US visitors. Among the handshakes and cigar smoke, the conversation soon turned to cattle. At lunch later that day, Ramon said, “We must take care of the calves because they will solve the problems of the world.” This was the common ground.

Cedar Key

The morning temps dropped into the 30s and there was little activity at the ramp in the morning. Cold clouds covered the horizon and the light was not good for shooting. I made a bunch of phone calls to line-up shooting opportunities and then drove to Gainesville for an oil change and tire rotation, deciding that the light would not be good again until 3:00 pm anyway.

Cedar Key

At first light I hung around the shell boat ramp, behind the new marina, talking with and photographing fishermen coming and going. I learned later that Heat Davis convinced the city commission to buy this land for $250,000, driving his point home with pictures of the new blue, metal marina, which many locals dislike, followed by pictures of the old “Cedar Key” way. He told them this was their chance to preserve water access for the fishermen who were otherwise being pushed off the island by land prices, they agreed and bought the land that makes up the natural boat ramp plus an adjacent area for parking vehicles.

It was there that I met Chris Topping and hitched an airboat ride with him, Mike Beckham, and their two cohorts out to a new clam lease they will be planting. It was an exhilarating ride though the wind cut through my jeans like they were mesh. Next time I will wear waders like the others on the boat. We met Jerry Beckham and his 320pound nephew out on the water and I rode back with them in their Carolina Skiff.

Cedar Key

This afternoon I was speaking with Jerry Beckham at Beckham Seafood. He has been an Oysterman all his life and easily made the transition to clamming. He spoke rather objectively about the Net Ban and seems to harbor less resentment than many of the other former net fishermen. He said he could see the day was coming when the nets would be taken away. Several times, he said how much things has changed. He said, “you couldn’t pay my daddy enough to put a crab trap on his boat.”

He explained that back then there were crabbing families, line fishing families, net fishing families, and oystering families, and that they didn’t cross over. His was an oystering family. Jerry also had some great comments about the moon, and how much his father talked about the moon. He talked about the power of the moon and its reflected light, saying that in the old days the fishermen went out at night would cover their mullet with palm fronds sand mangrove leaves to keep the moon from spoiling them. He said the moonlight would spoil fish faster than the sun, going on to say that a full moon would bleach the color out of your clothes faster than sunlight. He also talked about digging holes and the power of the moon. If you did a hole on a waxing moon you will have more than enough dirt to refill it, but if you dig a hole on a waning moon, you will not have enough dirt to refill it in the end. Something to do with the pull on the water in the earth, he added.

Earlier I photographed Mike and Beth Davis sorting and packing clams, Jeanine and Nancy Beckham shucking oysters, and Leslie Sturmer and others studying clam genetics.

What is Conservation Photography?

Letter by Carlton read to founding assembly of the International League of Conservation Photographers, Anchorage, Alaska, September 30, 2005

Here are my thoughts on a central question: What makes a Conservation Photographer?

In very simple terms, it is it relies on the two words: a Photographer working for Conservation. It is a given that all of us here are photographers (plus editor and reps), but the defining principal should be conservation.

A photographer should not qualify as a conservation photographer unless his or her primary purpose is advancing conservation. Loss of biological and cultural diversity is the most fundamental problem facing humanity, yet these issues are not receiving the necessary attention. In a modern world, photography needs to help solve this problem and is arguably the most powerful tool available for doing so.

Each person who claims membership to the ILCP should be a conservationist first. He or she should be choosing projects based on the ability to make a difference. With the privilege of being the eyes of the world comes a serious responsibility to help steer society in the right direction. And while an ILCP member should be a dedicated professional producing photographs of the highest quality possible, their role should not stop there. The photographs should be embraced as a means to an end goal of conservation, not an end in and of itself. Photography is a potent force only when applied.

The ultimate measure of successful conservation photography should be creating tangible advancement for the conservation agenda. The benchmarks have been set: the early American landscape photographers and the creation of the national parks, Nick Nichols and the new national parks in Gabon, Peter Dombrovskis and the conservation movement in Australia, Patricio Robles Gil and the trans-boundary Wilderness in Mexico. These are the examples of our mission.

Each ILCP member should be an ambassador for conservation and for the mission of the league, and they should use their pictures to champion for conservation causes. If the photographer cannot do their own campaigning, they should make sure the photographs are placed in the hands of people who can use them to affect change.

I believe the most important achievement of this symposium will be for the photographers to leave here will a common vision of what ILCP stands for. There are seemingly endless possibilities for how the principals of conservation photography can be applied and for what role the ILCP will serve in advancing their principals. But the principals are the guiding factor that all decisions should come back to. Like a constitution, our principals will define us and must be cauterized before we take the next steps.

As such, please remember this opinion: Conservation in the essential mission, applied professional Photography our solution.

Thanks you for considering my thoughts,

Carlton Ward Jr.

Omotepe, Nicaragua

The island of Omotepe is surrounded by Lake Nicaragua. It is the largest freshwater island in the world. I sit on the patio of the Omotepe Biological Station, looking out over the lake. The surface is calm, resting from the stiff easterly winds that stir the waters 300 days out of the year. Behind me, the dominant volcano is hidden by fog. After breakfast we will hike into the mist toward the San Ramon waterfall which plummets 350 feet.

Mali Before Christmas

I'm sitting in the Bamako airport waiting for a delayed flight to take me to Libreville so I can then wait 6 hours and get on another plane to fly back north overnight to Paris, where I will wait again for my flight west to the US and hopefully arrive in Tampa in time to join my parents and brother for Christmas Eve together. But considering I'm still in Africa with some many different flights to potentially go astray, its anyone's guess when I'll actually get home.

I spent the last week in Timbuktu doing aerial photography of the elephant range and mainly waiting for sand storm conditions to clear, which they did only after only after the tired planes and pilots threw in the rag and resumed they journey toward Europe. I was super frustrated by not being able to fully capitalize on my investment here and Mike Fay was pretty pissed too. But the pilots own the planes and can couch any vested interest in getting out of Africa in arguments of safety and aviation law. In the end I got some good and useful photos, but not at the level was shooting for.

I've got to admit its a bit strange being in a predominantly Muslim country in Africa with 95 degree desert conditions. I don't exactly have visions of snow or colored lights or sleigh bells ringing in my head. This should be an interesting transition.

Birthday Bonfire in Gabon

Last night I celebrated by birthday in firelight on the beach in Gamba. It was an excellent evening with an eclectic circle. Me, Michelle who pulled it all together, Mike the South African large animal vet who was master of the barbeque, Steve the crazy British American elephant ecologist, Mombalame and Mossimbo the Baka Pygmies elephant hunters from Congo, Tumtum and Djobo the Gabonese pygmies from Makuku, Laura and Kevin the oil engineers from the UK, Carolina and Miguel from Spain and France who brought a perfect bottle of Spanish wine, Mark the African musician from the UK with Gabonese singer Pierre and Kentucky-born Australia-living girlfriend Pat, and Tobi the lab manager from Cameroon who gave me a delightful frog necktie. Sitting on sand by the fire, we smoked Cuban cigars from Michelle’s freezer and after a few drinks Mossimbo was trying to speak French with the European ladies. We floated in conversation to the sound of heavy waves rumbling along the wild coastline where elephants and hippos roam.

Return to Gabon

It’s great to be back in Gabon. I was here in February for a photography exhibition and the launch of The Edge of Africa, but this is the first time in 18 months I’ve come with the purpose of making new pictures. I arrived in Libreville early on Sunday morning. After the dizzying flurry of last minute preparations and tying up loose ends at home, my mind was not yet focused on the journey ahead.

Opening Day

Fog clings thick to the pasture and silhouettes of scraggly oaks float in the distance, their branches left ragged from Hurricane Charley. Crimson hues feather the top of the tree line and the mosquitoes swarm thick around my exposed skin. I would say the scene was timeless, a slice of the real Florida that could be a century old, if it weren’t for the almost deafening sound of tractor trailers banging over the railroad tracks in limestone, and then grinding through their gears as they hum to speed down Murphy Road. The noises start south and wrap around the corner to the east, making me feel squeezed by burgeoning humanity, even here. It makes me wonder how long this land and the way of life it breeds can hold on. I wonder if the animals hear the noise coming too.

Last night I was signing books at the Clearwater Library’s Evening with the Authors. To be hunting this morning seems a world away. Next time I attend such an event, I want to be sharing this world with them. In five days I’ll be in Gabon on my next assignment, and then I must return to begin work here at home. Now I need both hands to shed mosquitoes. The sun’s almost rising.