What if?

This is Chaco, the New Mexico kitten:

"Lynx Point Kitten"

I call him that because we found him in the middle of the road to Chaco Culture National Historical Park on our 2009 New Mexico trip. We’re not sure if he suffered a glancing blow from a car or if some critter got hold of him. The only injuries we could find were on his face, so we cleaned him up the best we could once we reached the park, using antiseptic wipes and Neosporin from the first aid kit the rangers were kind enough to offer. He was in shock so I wrapped him up in my fleece jacket, but he came out of it pretty quickly when he smelled our roast turkey sandwiches! The volume of his screams and the fact that he got up and started searching out the turkey led us to believe he wasn’t injured too badly. We made a nest for him in the back of our car and took him around the park with us all day. He was sooo good–napped most of the time.

I REALLY wanted to keep him, of course, even though Oliver might not have been too thrilled about it. Even Kevin liked him, although the volume and frequency of Siamese kitten screams shocked him.

The only residence anywhere near where we found the little guy was well over a mile away. We weren’t planning on stopping as we left the park and even passed the place by. We figured we didn’t want to return him to somebody who was careless enough to let him out for critters or cars to get him. But we weren’t sure what we’d do with him and we’d only have one day to figure it out before our flight home. Our host probably could have found a good home for him, but I doubt he would have been thrilled to see us come back with yet another animal–he already had four cats and three dogs as it was! And finally, I couldn’t shake the vision of some little girl crying and heartbroken because her kitten was missing. So we turned around and learned it was his home. I was tempted to leave and to hell with the details of taking care of him or getting him home. The owner said she THOUGHT she had 13 cats but wasn’t sure. There were cats of varying ages all over the place, running in and out the house door that remained open. She THOUGHT he’d been missing for two weeks, but didn’t seem to really care. She also didn’t seem to care that he’d been injured or that he’d been returned. It was obvious she wasn’t going to take him to the vet or even make sure he stayed safely inside while he healed. But he seemed to know where he was and we could hardly snatch him up and run off with him. So we left, and I cried most of the way back to the ranch, which is about a three hour drive. I felt like we’d saved him from immediate danger only to hand down an indefinite death sentence.

The next day, which was the last day of our trip, I took this photograph:

"Three Room Ruin" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Yes, it’s the header image from the top of my blog. Because we chose to return the kitten to his home I had time to wander the ranch one last time and take one of the best photos I’ve taken in the last 5 years.

I was pretty sure I’d taken some fairly decent photos during our trip:

"Coal Mine Movie Projector" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Cracked" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Mason Jars" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Three Crosses" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Santa Fe Car 502" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

But I knew deep down in my gut that I hadn’t taken that one photo yet, and I was just as certain that it was out there waiting for me.

There’s no denying the fact that if we had kept Chaco I would not have photographed the ruins. I would have been 60 miles away in Santa Fe, spending most of the day at an emergency animal clinic, while simultaneously on the phone with the airline trying desperately to get official passage for him, because after having rescued him there’s no way I would have been able to leave him behind.

So…what if I hadn’t photographed it? Would I have been satisfied with the photos I already had, knowing that somehow I’d missed an important one? Would I have been so delighted in having a kitten that I wouldn’t have cared?

And what about Chaco? Was he able to heal without proper care, or is he maimed for life? Is he even still alive? Outdoor cats in that area are lucky if they live a year, what with cars, coyotes, and birds of prey.

What if I could go back and do it over?

I’d pick the kitten.

Favorite Image of 2011

This is the time of year when I gravitate towards organizing files, reviewing images, and attempting to unearth my office and gear closet. There’s not much else going on and after four years I still haven’t come to terms with Louisville winters. (I’m a winter weenie–I blame it on growing up in North Texas.)

When I look back over last year’s work several images stand out, but if I must choose then I’d say this was my favorite:

"1927 Lighthouse" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

I took this photo on our July trip to Florida, where we were fortunate enough to visit friends who were staying south of Tampa. It was an optimistic move to even bring a camera, much less the full Mamiya 645 rig:  Three lenses, four extra film inserts, two film backs, and assorted filters. (Or perhaps the best word would be “stubborn”.) I knew this trip was slated for relaxation, and carrying the Mamiya pack without a donkey definitely does not fall under that description. Add sand, sun, and my total non-interest in landscape photography and it just didn’t make sense to bring the whole shebang. But I did. (Did I mention I was stubborn?)

I can’t not go on a trip without a camera. Imagine separating Linus from his blanket and you get the idea. I could have taken one of the smaller ones, but I love my medium format Mamiya. It’s my workhorse and I’m unhealthily attached to it. That and I thought Florida would be the perfect place to shoot some of the medium format infrared film I was hoarding in the freezer.

Our friends, also photographers, knew I needed a fix and one day suggested driving us all to Boca Grande on Gasparilla Island. Yay, a shooting day! But I was worried, since the method that works best for me is wandering aimlessly with no real goal in mind, and no time constraints, until I start to notice things I want to photograph. Heading out to a specific destination doesn’t always work–I feel like I’m forcing it. The pressure built as I realized that after driving 25 minutes to our destination we also had to pay a $10 toll to enter the island. Everyone took time out of their heavy schedule of relaxation to humor me, and I wasn’t sure I would produce anything that would justify that.

I photographed an avenue of banyan trees, our main goal:

"Banyan Street" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

But I couldn’t keep my eyes off the dilapidated lighthouse. An avenue lined with banyan trees is definitely cool, but a deteriorating lighthouse is totally my sort of scene. It was so oddly spidery-looking. So our friends parked the car in a local lot and stayed behind to snooze in the comfort of AC while I headed down the tiny two lane road. Even with my wide angle lens I had to stand almost in the road to get the composition I wanted, which meant I couldn’t avoid attracting attention. I didn’t know if local authorities would be okay with me photographing the lighthouse or not–they kept cruising by, eyeing me. Since I could see pieces of the structure lying about I figured it was probably off-limits. I was sweating from nerves and the oppressive warm-wet-blanket-wrapped-about-your-head climate, as the Police drove back and forth, back and forth. My hands kept slipping on the heavy camera. My 80mm lens was awkwardly bulging my capris pocket away from my thigh like an aggressive tumor. My friends and husband (backup) were down the road and out of sight. But I must have only looked witless, and not suspicious, because they left me to do my thing.

I’m glad I was stubborn. And I’m glad I look harmless.

Why hello there, 2012.

"Photo 2012" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

So, yeah, that’s pretty much how my year will look.

Happy New Year!