INTRODUCTION

          Standing in a field of gold wildflowers on the Comanche Grassland as morning fog gives way to sun and blue sky, revealing canyon walls and textures of grass and cacti, the aroma of wet sage filling the air—another prairie moment to be captured through the eye of my lens. In these moments, this photo project seems so perfectly natural.
          While living in the Denver metro area for more than 20 years, I have always been fascinated by our natural surroundings. All along the Front Range, wildlife sightings are commonplace as we are treated to spectacular sunrises and sunsets, while watching banks of clouds rise from the great Rocky Mountains and drift over the eastern plains. This infatuation with nature close to home was the genesis of this project.

          Why the prairie?

          I have grown accustomed to the blank stare when I tell someone that I'm working on a Colorado prairie book, and the inevitable follow up-question, “Why the prairie?” Friends know my wife, Marla and me to be people who love the mountains—climbing fourteeners, backpacking, trekking, the whole bit. I'm also well aware of the common perception that the prairie is flat and boring, a place to drive through on the way to the mountains. What happened with me is what happens with a lot of folks; the prairie grew on me. In fact, it burned into my soul. Maybe it's because I took the time to watch and listen, to anticipate the changes within seasons and note the ever-changing nature all around me. That's how it starts. The prairie doesn't have the bowl-you-over scenery of the mountains. It is a subtle beauty that is completely dictated by not only changes of season, but micro changes within seasons. Native grasses may look sparse and over- grazed in March; but visit in August after the monsoon and you may discover an “ocean of grass,” waves flowing on the wind. A land that seems devoid of wildlife in the dead of winter comes to life around the first of March; and by May, the abundance of wildlife and rich tapestries of green can be overwhelming. Missing a few weeks on the prairie requires getting reacquainted—it changes that fast, and something magical happens every day. There is something else, though, a larger emotional connection to grasslands that even the most ardent prairie lovers have trouble articulating. Most just say “I don't know what it is—there's just something about the prairie.” In Grassland, author Richard Manning discusses human evolution from forest apes, explaining humans' “ability to stand erect and see over the grass, humans fit grassland.” Although I love to talk about the emotional reasons to love the prairie, it seems that we evolved with grass and may simply be hard-wired to grassland.
          Four years ago, I contacted Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge in hopes of further developing my close-to-home photography into a full-blown book project. Timing is everything, and I met with Dean Rundle, then refuge manager at a time when the refuge was in-between photographers. I thought that I knew quite a bit about the Colorado prairie, the arsenal history, the massive mule deer, but I can now readily admit that I didn't know much. I guess I made up for my lack of grassland knowledge with enthusiasm, and Dean gave me the opportunity to become “volunteer photographer” for the arsenal. More than anything else, Dean's trust and this partnership with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) is the reason for Prairie Thunder. My work at the arsenal is the foundation of this book.
My first interaction with arsenal biologists was photographing a deer study. The Colorado Division of Wildlife (CDOW) partnered with USFWS, trapping does, performing a battery of tests to determine overall health, including field ultrasound, inserting an IUD, and monitoring the deer for two years. The arsenal biologist community welcomed me into their world, answered all of my layman's questions and generally made me feel like a part of their team. My learning has been accelerated by participating in not only the deer study, but small mammal trapping, burrowing owl trapping and banding, bald eagle banding, a bat study, kestrel banding and west Nile testing, bird counting, and visiting the National Black-Footed Ferret Conservation Center. This window into the biological side of prairie preservation has opened my eyes to a level of commitment beyond anything I could have imagined.
          My work at Rocky Mountain Arsenal NWR led me to meetings with Gary Graham, PhD., Executive Director of Audubon Colorado. Gary has worked on grassland projects in South America, Texas and Colorado and encouraged me to broaden the scope of the project to include all of eastern Colorado. The shortgrass prairie ecosystem is a top priority for Audubon, largely because prairie birds dominate the Audubon “watch list.” These formative discussions led to the structure of Prairie Thunder.
          The shortgrass prairie ecosystem changed forever with the extirpation of bison and subsequent plow-up of land that should never have been turned over. The land and wildlife are still paying a price for failed land management practices leading up to the dust bowl. With roughly 90% of the central shortgrass prairie privately held, we are learning new ways to manage the land for preservation, while deploying new conservation tools. One of the many surprises on my journey was to learn that land owners and conservationists are not only speaking the same language, but in many cases sharing the same conservation goals.
          The Nature Conservancy (TNC) is a leader in grassland conservation and has accelerated their efforts to secure conservation easements from willing sellers and purchase important grassland parcels, which are then leased to experienced local ranchers. TNC helped form the Shortgrass Prairie Partnership, a consortium of private land owners, conservation groups and government agencies to address the wide range of conservation issues facing the central shortgrass prairie. The face of conservation on Colorado's plains is changing at warp speed.
          Thanks to partnerships with the Colorado Division of Wildlife, Audubon Colorado, Colorado Field Ornithologists, and the Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory, citizens can visit private ranches and public sites along the Colorado Birding Trail to experience world-class birding and wildlife viewing. We have the opportunity to contribute to uplifting prairie communities with our eco-tourism dollars. Nature is the new currency on the plains.
          The project has been a peeling away of layers, erasing many of my pre-conceptions while learning how we arrived at this crossroads. The conservation history is as rich and colorful as the land, while the issues of a century ago affect land management decisions today. Consider that cattle grazing patterns are now managed to mimic bison behavior for the benefit of grassland and wildlife, and you start to get the idea.

          “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” — Yogi Berra

          My own personal quest has resulted in thousands of photographs, taken from blinds, my truck, a small airplane, windswept plains, canyon and river overlooks, countless sunrises and sunsets (some panned out, some didn't), while covering more than 30,000 miles along the way. The images on these pages were taken with 35mm Nikon equipment, both film and digital, using four different camera bodies and lenses ranging from 18mm to 840mm. With the exception of black-footed ferrets (released into the wild one week later) and some of the bison (by necessity), all of the animals are wild. No “wildlife models” were used. My wife still makes breakfast every time I get up “too early” to go shoot, and applauds the result from each outing. She is a saint. I have sat at numerous kitchen tables on plains ranches, visiting with warm-hearted folks that I just met, with a love of the prairie as my only license for being there.
          I am very fortunate that Richard Manning, the foremost author on the North American Great Plains, graced these pages with his foreword. Richard agreed in our first discussion, before seeing any of my work, simply because “it is so important.”
          A visit to the local bookstore reveals shelves filled with wonderful photography books about Colorado's mountains. There have been relatively few photo books about the Colorado prairie though, and none for two decades. As the concept jelled, it became apparent that the only approach for Prairie Thunder was to make a photo conservation book. The imagery reflects my sense of wonder while traveling on a journey to understand the state of conservation on Colorado's shortgrass prairie. To that point, it is a collection of my experiences, not a catalogue of prairie flora, fauna and habitat. The great herds of bison may have vanished, yet much of the land remains intact; and we have the gift of opportunity, a chance to preserve on a grand scale and tell the greatest conservation story ever.