A feeling is worth a thousand photos

It is what we had all hoped for. The bear had accepted our presence and was now perched on a rock mid-stream scanning the creek for salmon. Her white fur was wet from an overnight rain and steam rose from her back in the morning sun. It was like a scene from National Geographic television – only this was live.

Our group of photographers and nature buffs was thrilled. Between snapping photos we glanced at each other – smiling widely, giving each other the thumbs up. We never could have imagined this exact scene beforehand, but the hope of being part of something like this was why we had come. 

Some photos are worth a thousand words, but a feeling is worth a thousand photos.

The bear spotted a fish and leapt after it. Water sprayed into the air as she chased the fish through shallow water. Then she pounced with both front paws, pinning the fish to the riverbed before sinking her teeth into its back. When the bear raised her head a plump pink salmon was writhing in her jaws. Camera shutters whirred.

The rest of the world faded away as we became absorbed in taking photos. To get a low angle I lay down on my belly in the moss. After clicking a number of photos, I took a few moments to look at the people around me. Some were busy taking pictures and some were simply taking in the scene, expressions of calm wonder on their faces.

Then all at once wolves started howling from within the forest behind us. We all looked up into the forest and then at each other. Jaws slackened, eyebrows raised. Everyone was still, except the bear, who kept working away at her fish.

The howls came from all around, but the wolves stay out of sight

The howls came from all around, but the wolves stayed out of sight. At this point my camera felt useless. A photograph couldn’t possibly capture a scene like this: there was a steaming bear, a group of photographers on the riverbank and, somewhere in the forest beyond them, a pack of wolves howling a message we could not comprehend. The creek gurgled and lichens swayed gently on the branches of old, old trees. We just stood there listening, watching, breathing. There is no way a photograph can convey all that.

They say a photo is worth a thousand words. But photos are constrained by their own dimensions. More importantly, they only capture what is happening in front of the lens; they fall short of capturing the emotion the photographer experiences from behind the camera. In other words, for most of us, the images we take do not capture the most important thing – the enlivening experience of intimate encounters with nature.

photos only capture what is happening in front of the lens; they fall short of capturing the emotion the photographer experiences from behind the camera.

Eventually the photographs we take become simplified mementos of those experiences. Pictures can evoke vivid memories within us – and help convey the power of the experience to others – but they are no substitute for being there. Sure, some photos are worth a thousand words, but a feeling is worth a thousand photos.

I have often said that I have yet to meet anyone who was not moved by a face-to-face encounter with a grizzly (or spirit bear, or wolf). For most, that reaction is a visceral thing – the pulse throbs, adrenaline gushes, knees weaken. That just doesn’t happen when you look at a photograph.

There were several bouts of howling that morning, but all sense of time was lost. Eventually the wolves trotted off – or at least they stopped howling – and we were left once again by the side of the river with the steaming bear. That day was a gift – a rich and emotional one. For me, that emotion is best described as reverence. And that feeling is worth a thousand pictures.