Four O’Clock in the mornin’. Chill in the air.

Ya load up the gear. Load up the old dog.

Thermos on the floor.

Jets of warm air blast forcefully onto both of us… a welcomed rush. The world is asleep now, except for myself and the DJ on the other end of the radio spinning old-time favorites as I bravely attempt to sing along without hurting my beautiful friend’s ears.

Headed north, out of town. The sun will smile in about and hour and I have a date with Mother Nature that I have no intentions of breaking. The stars are out as they have been for most of the night, flashing messages in some sort of code. Good messages, I presume. Messages, unfortunately enough, may never be heard or understood by any one human being.

I head out to Flat Creek, where the Trumpeter Swans have already begun making beautiful music thru a rising fog. Onward, past Miller’s Butte and the National Elk Refuge where the elk have been wintering for over a century now. It’s just not that time of year.

Past the Park Boundary and the Gros Ventre River, where I hope to catch a glimpse of mamma moose and her stubborn calf cautiously traversing the shallows.

The Great Horned sails past my view at Ditch Creek, sprinkling her innate wisdom onto my windshield, thanking me for traveling the speed limit. I nod back with some level of acknowledgement.

The sky to the west is beginning to paint its own graduated canvas of saturated hues, mostly in Easter Egg Blue. I realize now that I am nearer to where Mardy Murie made her last stand. I wish to God I knew of her personally, but I can’t say I ever did.

Black Tail Butte comes into view, where Grizzly 399 and her three cubs performed their magic two years prior. Cell service begins to fade. I become unreachable. It has now become “The Perfect Morning”.

I glance down at Schwabacher’s Landing hoping to see another form of life unlike my own, but it is still too dark and unforeseeable.

I finally reach the Snake River Overlook where Ansel Adams once made famous his black and white image of the Tetons rising above the misty waters.

Onward, past Triangle X and Moose Head Ranch where the Buffalo River Wolf Pack has lately been making a solid name for themselves.

The bison are herding in Elk Flats once again. And further north, I pass the willows orange where mountain lions have been spotted on occasion. Turning left at the village of Moran, a coyote gracefully mouses in the meadows to the South.

Some few miles later I reach the Oxbow Bend, a meandering of the Snake River where the Teton Range skyrockets from an extended grove of aspens. I arrive just in time as does the light.

“ALL HER MAJESTY” !

I honestly feel like dropping to my knees and thanking the mysteries of life. But my little friend laying impatiently by my side remembers this place vividly and wants out of the vehicle.

The still water’s reflection enlightens my mind without a spoken word, that there is always two sides to every story. I long for the silence.

I’m a nature photographer.

Is there anything in the world better than this ?

I sense there is more than the presence of Mother Nature here. I sense here there is an Awakening… A Beginning…A Happening.

Here, everything happens. Everything !

Everything happens at Oxbow Bend.

Morning Log: July 15, 2009……

Daniel Muscatell

Dan and his Hero, Watson the Dawg (September 2008)