The sun is shining in Montana.
It’s a beautiful thing when something as simple as the first signs of spring showing up on a landscape bring enough joy to completely alter your thinking. Suddenly the same old repetitive rut that winter so kindly invites is met with changes. Temperatures rise, rivers swell, green roots and buds begin emerging out of their dormancy in town and elsewhere. Daylight reaches further and further into the evening, the air no longer cuts deep into your layers. The birds arrive! The world feels new again. 24 years later, and it still feels new again.
This week begins a journey that I only could have dreamt of as a kid in New York, fantasizing about what the world was like before our houses and highways. You see, the mountains here show glimpses of pre-development, between the cracks of industry and human influence. Centuries-old trees still stand not far from this computer screen, backdropped by 10,000ft peaks and incomprehensible beauty. Beauty I am itching to explore.
The great gray owls are singing, nesting season is beginning. I am beyond fortunate to be here, to have this opportunity to take the life of a seldom-seen bird and show it to the world; but more importantly, show it to those responsible for taking the forest away. If great gray owls are to thrive here for centuries to come, deforestation cannot. Harvesting of old growth trees cannot. New development on our public lands cannot. So this week begins a journey far more significant than anything I’ve ever found myself involved in. And thanks to those who have listened, I am now more confident than ever in my craft.
The sun is shining in Montana.
Kyle