Welcome to The Dusty Unknown Gallery Stories
If you found this page you will have just scanned a gallery label like this one here. Before we move on to behind-the-scenes thoughts and tales, let’s break down what’s included on each gallery label.
At the top of the label you will find the name of the piece. I like to give each print a clever name associated with the moment or the species captured. Below the name, you will find the medium that the image is printed on, as well as the year I captured the photo. Below that, are the dimensions of the print and the price should you wish to purchase the print. Underneath the medium and price, you will find a short introduction to the piece, followed by my website url and instagram handle. Should you wish to inquire further about a print, please send me an email at thedustyunknown@gmail.com.
Aamoo - Bumblebee
As a wildlife photographer, bees are an interesting conundrum. They are small, fast moving biological wonders that almost everyone has some sort of interaction with. Bees transcend the boundaries of urban and wild spaces, and are directly connected to the production of our food and the survival of our species. Bees also sting, are considered pests by some, and are often linked to the European Honey Bee - an introduced species that can overshadow the conservation needs of native bees. The size of most bees can also make them difficult to photograph, and they are often buzzing through busy backgrounds crowded with light, shapes, and colour. So, how do you capture such an important species in an image that encompasses everything that they are? You can’t.
One of the first things that you learn about putting your photos out in to the world is that your work can’t be everything to all people. You have to pick and choose what you want to photograph and why, and then let the rest go. No easy task, I assure you, but if there is one thing that is out of your control, it is what other people think of your work. That being said, over time most photographers develop a style, or a way of presenting their work, that connects to an established audience. For this particular photo, I wanted to try a style of insect photography that appealed to me as a viewer, hoping the end result might appeal to others as well.
To capture this specific shot, I travelled to the stunning Riding Mountain National Park visitor’s centre gardens in the hopes of finding a solitary long-stemmed flower that would highlight the bee while also giving the eye something to explore. I used a telephoto lens to create distance between myself and the subject, allowing the bee to feel comfortable resting on the flower. The long lens also helped to create the soft crushed out background, helping me to find a complimentary colour scheme for the image. I also made sure to search out a native bee species in the garden, choosing to highlight a bumble bee rather than a honey bee. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I shot an image that I enjoyed first and foremost. Appealing to as many people as possible can create popular images, but appealing to yourself creates an enduring love for the craft.
Child of the Marsh - Moose Calf
Where I grew up moose were like big goofy cousins of the unicorn. As majestic as they were awkward, I rarely ever saw a moose and when I did, I would marvel at the sheer silliness of their composition.
Later in my life, I developed a deep respect for these miraculous mammals, after learning how powerful and protective they were. I remember a girlfriend’s sister telling tales of moose attacking cars on Hecla Island, and seeing the immense size of bull moose antlers in museums. Once I became a wildlife photographer, I knew that I would have to capture the majesty of this species. What I didn’t expect was how tiny the subject would turn out.
On a beautiful spring day, as I drove through Riding Mountain National Park, movement caught my eye in the marsh on the side of the highway. Making sure there was a safe spot to pull off the road that wouldn’t endanger myself, or the animal, I slowed down. What I saw was a gorgeous cow moose pulling up aquatic plants for a midmorning meal. I snapped a few shots, taken back her beauty. That’s when the moose calf stepped from the grass. A fraction of momma’s size and full of curiosity, the calf proceeded to tentatively explore the surrounding area. It was a wonderful moment, and as I drove away watching the pair in my rearview mirror, I couldn’t help but smile at the tenacity of nature’s young.
Cold Play - Evening Grosbeak
When I was a boy there were only a handful of birds that I saw regularly on the farm, house sparrows, barn swallows, and Canadian geese. Of course there was the odd sighting of a hummingbird, or killdeer, but my knowledge of Manitoba’s birds was limited to say the least. That’s not to say that I didn’t know about other species, I remember being fascinated by osprey in grade school, but my lived experience was limited.
As I grew older, and ventured beyond the farmyard fence line, I discovered that there were marshes filled with ducks, swans, and blackbirds. I also began to understand that migration brought species to our province that only stayed for short periods of time, before moving along to greener pastures. It wasn’t until I got my first DSLR camera in my thirties, however, that I truly realized how little I knew about my winged neighbours.
The first time I saw a grosbeak I was blown away by the fantastical quality of their presence. The reds of the pine grosbeak were like something out of a fairytale, and the yellows of the evening grosbeaks were almost exotic - like a jungle spirit that wound up on the wrong side of winter. It was love at first sight.
Turns out photographing a grosbeak would be harder than I imagined, and it took building and an elaborate perch set up to capture the image you see here. After several winters of missing great shots due to cluttered branches, I decided to use fallen branches to make a series of perches near a local feeder. I also left my camera outside on a tripod so that the birds would get used to its size and shape. In the end the complex setup worked out and I was able to capture males and females of both pine and evening grosbeak species.
Cover Girl - Common Loon
I knew early on in my photography career that I wanted to capture as many of Manitoba’s most recognizable species as possible. Over the years I have photographed everything from salamanders to moose, but it was the loon that proved particularly challenging.
For those who don’t know, photography equipment is expensive, and while most gear is made to be used in unforgiving elements, the bottom of the lake is not the place to want to lose your camera. This was my thought as I wrapped my first DSLR in a garbage bag and shoved off the beach in a kayak, bound and determined to get a loon photo. Turns out the only thing that would come back soaking wet was me, as kayaking with a camera on my lap was more difficult than expected. Needless to say, I persevered and, despite going out on several occasions, I didn’t dropped my camera, or capture the loon image I was hoping for.
It wasn’t until I was returning back to the family cabin after an owl scouting trip, that my ideal loon encounter transpired. Not balancing in a kayak, white-knuckle gripping my camera, but on the side of a gravel road in a large marsh. Sitting in the dirt watching this loon dive and re-emerge, I realized how lucky I had been during my previous loon encounters. Not only was I able to keep my camera dry, but I had also spent hours enjoying the beauty of life on the water. As droplets clung to the loons shimmering body, I snapped a photo and smiled.
Facing Winter - Plains Bison
Coming soon…
Ghost of the Valley - Great Grey Owl
When I say that great greys are silent, I mean it. There have been times where I have stood in a field and had an owl land nearby without making the slightest sound. For such a large bird, the silence can be a bit uncanny, but also utterly captivating. I have been in the company of this particular owl on more than one occasion and each time the grace and fluidity of the bird’s movements surprise me.
One summer, a few years back, I was able to find this owl repeatedly on the same collection of fenceposts. Each time I would quietly wade out into the swaying canola fields and watch as the owl glided from post to post scanning the vegetation below. I always walked away feeling blessed to have witnessed such a magnificent creature in the wild. On two separate instances, however, I was privy to something extra incredible.
While watching the owl search the grass below it’s perch, moments after taking this shot, I noticed that the its body language suddenly shifted. The owl tensed and its gaze focused as its feet lifted one after the other like a runner about to sprint and then, with and arching dive, it disappeared in the grass below. A few moments later, the owl reappeared, with an effortless hop, holding a mouse in its talons. I stood in awe, snapping a few photos – one of which is in my online portfolio – and watching as the owl picked away at its prey before flying off into the trees.
I have yet to be disappointed by a great grey encounter, and don’t foresee tiring of this species anytime soon.
Herald of Hermes - Ferruginous Hawk
People often ask me how I find so many different species, stating that it must take a lot of patience to get the shots that I do. While it is true that patience is an integral part of wildlife photography, it doesn’t always come in the form of sitting quietly and waiting for something to happen. Sometimes, the real test is not going home when you decide to keep moving.
There is nothing like scouting out a location, learning about a species, setting up your shot and getting the exact image you hoped for. The catch, is that, that process takes a large time investment and doesn’t always pay off. That’s why I will often take a drive when I feel the itch to capture an image, but don’t have the time to search out an ideal location. It is remarkable what you can see from a moving vehicle and, when used intentionally, an automobile can act just like a blind. Of course, not all animals tolerate vehicles. Such is the case with many hawk species.
Most of my encounters with hawks end the exact same way, I see them, I try to approach, and they take flight the second they spot me – vehicle or no. When I saw this particular hawk, I expected much of the same, but when I slowly pulled up beside it, the hawk remained stationary. Not only did the hawk not fly away, it turned to look at me, studied me, and remained calm. I was able to capture several photos before the hawk swoop to another post and I drove off. Little did I know at the time, that this particular hawk wasn’t a local species, but a ferruginous hawk, named for the feathers that go all the way to its feet. You just never know what you’ll find on a wildlife drive.
Hoop Dreams - Red Fox Todd
While visiting relatives in Whitehorse, my cousin suggested we drive the neighbourhood looking for a family of urban foxes. It wasn’t too long before we spotted a stunning vixen watching over a few adorable kits as they wrestled amongst detritus in a unkept yard. After slowly inching our vehicle towards the cute Canidae, we were surprised to see another adult fox sunning himself atop a garbage filled car.
In a relatively short period of time, I was able to photograph the kits, vixen and the todd, who lounged in front of a Fisher Price basketball net – hence the name for this print “Hoop Dreams”. It was truly special to watch the young ones try to tackle their mother, who was having none of it, while the todd watched sleepily from above.
As the daylight began to fade, the vixen gave a quick yip and all but one kit left for an evening hunt. As dad hoped off of the car to follow the family across the street, the smallest kit returned to the den to play with an abandoned sock and wait for supper to return.
Kluane Princess - Grizzly
The summer of 2024, when I visited the Yukon for the fourth time, I was beginning to think that I would never get a chance to see a grizzly. After arriving in Whitehorse, I spent several days driving areas with well-documented grizzly sightings, only to come up empty-handed. I had all but lost hope, until my cousin set up a meeting with a local wildlife photographer who was kind enough to share some tips on when, and where, I might see a bear.
Unfortunately, the location where I was most likely to see a grizzly was over three hours away, in one direction, and I didn’t have a car. Thankfully, the world’s best cousins came to the rescue again, and I was able to borrow a vehicle for a 24-hour window of time to try and capture my first grizzly photo.
I planned as best I could, drove halfway to the grizzly spot the night before, rented an Airbnb, and woke up before 6:00AM the following morning. I drove for hours the next day, searching every nook and cranny for my elusive grizzly shot. By 8:30 that morning, I had not seen a single animal, let alone a majestic grizzly. That’s when I decided to make a pitstop at a small roadside museum and ask some locals about grizzly sightings. To my surprise, I was told that grizzlies were seen every single day, just outside the museum. The catch? I had to wait 12 hours until 8:30 that evening.
Bound and determined to get the shot, I did everything from nap, walk the museum, read comics, and drive through construction, all to kill time. Turns out, spending long hours in the field really does pay off and, as dusk rippled across the mountains in the land of the midnight sun, out walked two grizzly sisters.
I always feel a rush of adrenaline after snapping a long-awaited shot, but the feeling of capturing the shot you see here was pure euphoria. Now all I need is to photograph a grizzly fishing. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?
Little Prince - Ruby-Throated Hummingbird
One animal fact that most children from Manitoba can repeat is that hummingbird wings are fast. Most kids can also tell you that ruby-throated hummingbirds are quite small, or that they need to drink nectar from flowers to survive. What they may not know is that hummingbirds are vicious tyrants that rule their kingdoms with an iron wing. I joke, of course, but if anyone has set up a hummingbird feeder in their yard, they will know that I am not far from the truth.
At the time that I took this shot I was witness to one such gladiatorial battle that took place every day at my wife’s family cabin. I often sat at the table and watched as hummingbirds dove to and fro twisting and squeaking as they scolding and chased each other. Most of the birds that attempted a sugary swig at the feeder would fly off immediately swooping over the lake as they disappeared from sight. One hummingbird, however, never took his eyes off the feeder and would land only a few feet away in an old tree. He was specifically targeting all other feeder visitors so, in turn, I decided to target him…for a photo op.
At the time, I didn’t have camera gear that could capture a hummingbird in flight, especially in the shaded area where this particular fellow liked to perch, so I decided that my best chance of a photo was to capture a shot of the prince while he was surveying his kingdom. I stood, unmoving against the cabin, camera lifted chin high (I didn’t have a tripod either), until my arms began to shake, and when I didn’t get the shot I wanted, I went out again the next day, and again the day after. Eventually I was able to get the photo you see here, as well as a few hundred blurry images of a twitchy little hummingbird trying to keep tabs on his favourite drinking hole.
Mister Rogers - Barred Tiger Salamander
Growing up I wasn’t particularly fond of snakes. I found snakes fascinating, of course, but I didn’t actively seek them out, or grab onto them like many of my friends. I did, however, love salamanders. Again, not so much to touch, but more as a concept. The thought that there was a tiny little amphibian, with a twisty tail, adorable spots, and sensitive skin that could survive our harsh winters was incredible. The fact that I rarely saw them around the farm made them all the more intriguing.
When I got older and moved away to university, like many things from my childhood, I sort of forgot that salamanders existed. I mean, I knew that they were real, I just hadn’t had an interaction with one for so many years that they hadn’t crossed my mind. That was until an event my wife would dub the “great salamander migration”.
One summer evening, on our way to my wife’s family cabin, we began to see little black creatures crawling across the road. The further we drove, the more black there was until, eventually, the road was so thick with wriggling bodies that we had to stop the car. As we stood on a back country road, surrounded by the awkward movements of hundreds of salamanders the idea that small species could have a profound impact on someone’s life was all encompassing. Years later, when I became a wildlife photographer, I had the same thought as I lay in the dust on a gravel road, eye to eye with the salamander you see here. While they may not have the imposing size of a moose, or the haunting call of a loon, salamanders will always hold a special place in my photography journey.
Petite Langue - Stone Sheep
I want curls. That was the thought I had when I found out we would be driving through stone sheep territory on a family road trip in Northern British Columbia. I knew that male stone sheep could grow some truly impressive horns, and I wanted a photo of a ram with a full curl around its head. Afterall, we were staying in an area that was reported to be ideal Stone Sheep habitat and had heard form other travellers that herds of sheep had been seen just before we arrived. What could go wrong?
As it turned out, nothing went wrong, but I still didn’t see a single ram despite driving back and forth past several sighting spots over the course of a few days. In fact, the only stone sheep I saw in those first few days was no longer with the living and most likely the reason that the herds had vacated the area.
Thankfully, there was an incredible grouping of natural hot springs, just down the highway from our cabin, in which I could relax away my disappointment. It was on the way to one such soak that we spotted a single sheep on the side of the road, grazing quietly by itself. The sheep was so calm, that I was able to take several photos while it roamed about including the shot you see here. While I didn’t get the curls I was looking for, I did get a little tongue and a fun encounter with a cheeky sheep.
Pure Gold - Red Fox Kit
I love photographing fox kits. Not only are they adorable, but they are also incredibly curious. I have watched kits chase each other around baseball diamonds, fight over dirty socks, chomp at butterflies, and even chew on barbwire fences. There is an endless amount of joy in watching young animals play, but fox kits are especially wonderful to encounter.
The thing about species that are cute and fun to be around is that lots of other shutterbugs will also try their hand at photographing them. The task then becomes not so much about capturing the species as it is usually portrayed, but capturing how you see the species as an individual.
When I saw this fox kit playing in the glow of the setting sun, I wanted to showcase the intelligence behind the silly games of chase and heel nipping. I also wanted to highlight the majesty of the adult fox, that lay just below the surface of this tiny kit’s fuzzy exterior. In order to encapsulate these sentiments, I decided to use the light and shadow of early evening to my advantage and wait until the kit looked at me from the perfect angle – casting half its face in light and the other half in shadow. The result was the picture you see here, one that shows a knowing, almost piercing, gaze. Half mischief maker and half survivalist.
Road Warrior - Red-Crested Cardinal
Whenever I travel to new places with my camera there is a certain level of excitement that I can only compare to being a child on Christmas morning. Seeing a new species is like unwrapping a gift, and getting a great photograph is like Santa leaving exactly what you wanted under the tree. But, much like Christmas, sometimes a truly great present comes from the most unlikely of places.
Before going on a trip, I typically research which species I am likely to see, what the best time of year to see those species is, and where I’ll have the highest likelihood of photographing those species. My recent trip to Hawai’i was no different, and before I set foot on island soil, I had a checklist of birds I hoped to locate. Some, like this Red-Crested Cardinal, I saw very early on, but seeing isn’t photographing and the more times I see a species the more obsessed I get.
So, one afternoon, while driving the Road to Hana, I was delighted to see what had quickly become my white whale of the trip – a male red-crested cardinal. Now, the thing you have to realize about the Road to Hana is that it is a VERY curvaceous corridor through dense Hawaiian forest. With 620 curves, 59 bridges, and countless waterfalls, this 52-mile roadway can take upwards of four hours to complete with few places to stop along the way.
On one particularly picturesque portion of the highway we managed to find a single spot left in a busy parking area. Not one to miss an opportunity to take my camera out, I decided to walk the rest area to see if any wildlife was nearby. And that’s when I saw it, a stunning white bird with a radiant red crest. Not in a tree, or hopping along the forest floor, but zipping from car to car fighting its reflection in any shiny surface it could find. Not the natural setting I had hoped, but an incredible gift none-the-less.
Sun Spot - Saw-Whet Owl
When I went out to photograph my first Northern saw-whet owl, I wasn’t prepared for how the experience would change me. I had photographed other owls in the past and had been lucky enough to have close encounters with great horned owls and great greys. Every owl encounter is different, of course, but it was the size of the other owls I had photographed that had made those experiences memorable. Little did I know that big memories come in small packages.
While it may surprise you, I often go out for photography outings with other photographers. I love learning from other creatives, enjoy the company, and find sharing new experiences with others to be more fulfilling. Such was the case during my saw-whet outing. A friend of mine had found a saw-whet owl in her area and asked if I wanted to take a walk and see if we could spot it.
Unfortunately, after several passes through its normal roosting area, we hadn’t seen a hint of the saw-whet, and we were questioning whether or not we should call it quits. Thankfully we decided to look at one more cluster of trees before turning in for the day, and that’s when we spotted it. A tiny bright-eyed hunter with all the beauty an impact of its larger cousins, tucked away in the branches of a tree as it searched the forest floor for food. It was a magical moment, and one I won’t soon forget, made all the better when a nearby blue jay called out and the owl raised its head for this photo. Nature is wild!