Posted on September 30, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Farewell to the Monarchs

By Christian Begeman

Nature has a rhythm. The seasons pulse through the year. The sunlight lengthens then diminishes again. We humans aren’t the only ones that pay attention. The wild creatures that share our world are far more in tune to these changes than we can imagine. Their lives and the future of their species depend on it. As summer fades to fall once more in South Dakota, I stumbled upon a vivid example of nature’s wondrous transition.

It was the day before Labor Day. This time of year is usually when the monarch butterfly migration peaks in southeastern South Dakota. The last few years I’ve watched the migration closely. The butterflies seem to be in pretty big trouble. Dry summers, decreasing habitat and a variety of other issues have significantly diminished the numbers of monarchs in the wild over the last decade. According to the Center for Biological Diversity, the 2014 count of monarchs was the lowest since records began in 1995. The winter count came in at 33.5 million, which sounds high until you compare it to the highest number on record, which was 909.5 million in 1997.

As a photographer, the monarch is a magnificent burst of color accentuating our native grasses and wildflowers. I remember the first time I had a telephoto lens on an old Minolta film camera. I spent at least a half hour one afternoon trying get a good shot of a lone monarch fluttering through our farmyard. I never did get a decent shot that day. Ever since, whenever I can get close enough to get a nice portrait of the remarkable insect, I count it as a win. In 2010, National Geographic ran a mini-series called”Great Migrations,” and one of the featured stories was the mystery and complexity of the monarch migration. It piqued my fascination once again. I didn’t have to travel to East Africa to witness this migration — it happens twice a year right here in South Dakota. The monarch is the only butterfly that flies up to 3,000 miles to winter in the warmer climes of Mexico, then flies back north in the spring laying eggs and spreading new generations across most of North America.

Back to the day before Labor Day … I had seen an eastern swallowtail and a handful of monarchs finding refuge in a windbreak the day before in eastern Brookings County. That prompted me to go to Lake Herman State Park to see if any monarchs had come to take advantage of the park’s attempt to grow native wildflowers and grasses. I was not disappointed. On a hillside filled with goldenrod and prairie blazing star flowers, I found hundreds of monarchs feeding. It is rare to be able to sit completely still and let nature come to you, but that is exactly what happened that afternoon. The butterflies were so intent on refueling for the next leg of their journey, they barely paid any heed to me or my camera. Later in the day, I found roughly a half dozen roosting areas each with 10 to 12 monarchs. These numbers are more than I’ve seen since 2011. So maybe the overall numbers are on the rebound. I hope so, because I’d like to make it an annual photographic tradition to say farewell to summer by saying farewell to the amazing monarch butterflies as they flutter through. So good luck and safe travels. Let’s do it again next year!

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

Posted on August 26, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Dramatic Summer Skies

By Christian Begeman

This month marks four years that I’ve been writing photography columns for the South Dakota Magazine website. I’m grateful for the chance to share what I’m doing and what I’ve seen while appeasing my South Dakota wanderlust. So far, no one has asked me to stop sending photos, so here is to year number five!

While picking topics, I’ve tried to find new things to shoot or different angles on familiar topics so the photos don’t get stale. This month, however, I’m going to revisit a favorite photography theme. This summer, I have chased more storms than any other year. It could be that there have been more storms to chase, but the main reason is that I believe there isn’t much better light to see and capture than the light produced by a thunderstorm rolling across the northern plains, particularly around sunset. Not only is the light dramatic, but the sky itself is often a wonder to behold.

Most folks who chase storms want to witness the power and danger that severe weather can bring. Many are also interested in the science. And some do it as a service to warn residents that may be in harm’s way. I am awestruck when the sky darkens and the clouds boil. However, the best part of the storm is after it has passed. That is when the re-emerging sunlight paints the sky with rainbows, or casts the whole thundercloud into amazing shades of yellow, orange, pink and red. The beauty is fleeting, and no two storm clouds are the same. That’s another reason why chasing is so special.

I have a personal project that involves finding and photographing country churches. An unforeseen but very useful outcome of this project is knowing where the churches are. Then I compare their locations to the radar maps our news stations so generously provide. When chasing the storm, I try to find a prairie steeple to place in the foreground of oncoming or retreating clouds. Having something in the foreground or on the horizon that denotes scale can transform an impressive storm image to an outstanding image. I like to use windmills and barns where possible, as well. I’ve also learned that an open road will do the same thing. Just be mindful of traffic and courteous to local residents.

My favorite windmill to photograph in any interesting weather is just east of Hartford, and I can get there in about 10 minutes. Earlier this month, a squall line on the south edge of a pretty major storm formed northwest of Sioux Falls about a half hour before sunset. I high-tailed it for the windmill in hopes of capturing something amazing. I set up my tripod on the edge of the county road just minutes before shafts of the setting sun broke through the western clouds to paint the southeast sky in colors and detail I had only seen in paintings. It lasted for about two minutes, and then it was gone. Witnessing that is why I chase storms. I am usually amazed and humbled at the same time. Sometimes I get wet too, but that is a small price to pay to take in the beauty after the storm in South Dakota.

Posted on July 29, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

The Season of Color

By Christian Begeman

If you could pick a color to represent summer in South Dakota, what would it be? Azure blue for the summer sky? Maybe green with yellow tints for the prairie pastures? The colors of the rainbow we see after a spring storm? How about a mixture of orange and red for our signature sunsets? How do you color the serene night sky? I don’t know, but one thing is certain: summertime’s palette of color is vibrant and full of life. The rains have been good. For a few months out of the year our landscapes transition from drab tans and browns to lovely green accented with yellow, blue and red flowers. We may not have the vast carpets of wildflower fields like other parts of the world, but the summer wildflower season in South Dakota is still beautiful.

Much of the state is prairie landscape, which means outside of the farm fields, grass is king. However, summer wildflowers aren’t difficult to find. These bursts of color often accent the wide pastures with pleasant shades of yellow or purple. Coneflowers, sunflowers and milkweed also attract colorful butterflies, moths and even birds. A walk on a hillside that has never seen a plow always surprises me with the abundant variety of life mixed with the grasses. It is a great way to spend an afternoon or evening hike with your camera.

Earlier this month, I was surprised to see that you don’t even have to leave the confines Sioux Falls to find wildflowers in abundance. Just north of Cherapa Place on the east side of the Big Sioux River is a large area planted back to native grass and flowers. Such a display of natural color in the midst of our largest city is a feast for the eyes.

Flowers are fun to photograph any time of day, but I’ve had the best luck early in the morning, before the wind comes up and the dew dries. Flowers look good under clouds, too, because the light is diffused more evenly and the shadows are less harsh. My favorite time to hunt wildflowers, however, is early in the evening when the golden light colors the land with warm hues. A macro lens will work wonders, but it is not necessary. A wide-angle lens can take great photos of wildflowers too. I recommend getting down on your knees or even your stomach to shoot the flowers at eye level. Getting down in the grass and looking up provides new and creative perspectives for you and your camera. Be warned, however, that un-photogenic insects like ticks, spiders and ants also live at this level, so be mindful of where you settle in and always wear repellent.

As summer wanes, the sunflower season will get into full swing. You’ll see blooming blazing stars and ironweed, and monarch butterflies will begin their migration to Mexico. But there’s still plenty of time left in the season to find your summer color. Take a hike, bring your camera and enjoy the color of summer while it lasts.

Posted on June 29, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

On the Open Road

By Christian Begeman

On a return flight into Sioux Falls a few years ago, I overheard an interesting conversation. As we taxied in, an out-of-stater asked a local sitting near him if he was home or would he have to drive further. Upon hearing there was still a 2 Ω-hour drive, he marveled at how folks from this region think nothing of getting in the car and driving what would be considered nearly insurmountable distances in other places. It was an interesting glimpse into what travelers from more urban areas sometimes think of our state — a wide-open space to simply drive through as fast as possible. I silently conceded his point about not being afraid of a little driving, but it was clear that this traveler didn’t understand the joy of South Dakota’s open road.

This June I embarked upon an epic road trip of more than 1,100 miles from one corner of the state to the other searching for country churches and running a few important errands. One of those errands was to stop and see my folks in Isabel and consume a slice (or two) of the first rhubarb cream pie of the season. Speaking of epic, that pie deserves a column of its own. It is pure joy for the taste buds. But I digress.

Early June is the best time for a road trip in our great state. The grass is green. The sky is blue and often accented with a dramatic storm cloud or two. The long evening light is golden and pure. When the stars appear on clear nights, the Milky Way makes a dramatic appearance in the southeast sky. Unfortunately the gnats and mosquitoes also love this time of year, but they are easily handled by generous (and sometimes multiple) applications of repellent. A few windshield cleanings will probably be needed as well, but that’s a small price to pay to get out and see the state at its best.

Photography has taught me a few things about the open road. First, don’t hurry. You can’t see the beauty of a cactus in bloom if you are cruising over 65 miles per hour. Second, if there is a back road or an alternate route, it’s probably worth taking. Third, don’t be afraid of gravel or names like”The Bad River Road.” It’s one of the best drives in the state, and it is all gravel. I try to always keep a camera”in the ready” while cruising down back roads. You never know when you’ll crest a hill and see amazing light play across the prairie or a bird of prey watching you from a roadside fence.

As I struggle to bring this to a fitting conclusion, I again realize I’m not a skilled enough wordsmith to truly explain my love affair with road tripping. The photos tell the story of my trip better than I ever could. That may sound like a cop out, but you know what? I’ve got the sudden urge to grab my camera and hit the road to somewhere. So I’m out of here. See you somewhere out on the open road!

Posted on February 25, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Upon Further Reflection

By Christian Begeman

As the end of February approaches, the days of melting snow, muddy shoes and the long awaited first signs of spring are right around the corner. I loved this time of year as a kid. Not so much because spring was coming, but for all the fun I found playing in the roads and trails on our little dairy farm. My imagination ran wild as I dammed and diverted melt water into canals and rivers. Then I’d turn into Godzilla and destroy all my work with stomping, kicking and gleeful mayhem. The only problem explaining to Mom why my coveralls were covered in mud. I suppose I’m too old to go play in the mud and melt water nowadays. But photography has given me another way to go have fun this time of year, because it’s a great time to shoot reflection photos.

Earlier this month, there was a brief warm up. It was enough to get some extra melt water flowing at Falls Park in downtown Sioux Falls. During this warm spell and after work one evening, I happened to notice the clouds were lining up for a colorful sunset. I hustled down to the park just in time to catch the sky turn golden with reflected light. My favorite photo of the evening wasn’t of the sky though, but the reflection of the clouds in the running water.

Just a week earlier, I had witnessed a beautiful pink/purple sunset times two in a reflection on the open water of the Missouri River at Myron’s Grove boat ramp in southwest Clay County. It reminded me of a view of our state capital building in Pierre that I witnessed last April on a still night from the Fort Pierre side. The graceful dome shone twice as nice with the help of the relatively calm waters of the Missouri River. Reflections like that can magically take a good scene and make it memorable.

I was asked recently if I prefer to get crisp and clear water reflection photos or the long exposure variety that smooth the flowing water and give it a misty, almost ghostlike quality. I had to think about that one for a while. To be completely honest I like to capture both if I can. A perfect mirror reflection requires a short exposure and often results in dramatic and powerful images. The long exposure water photos add a sense of mystery and elegance to the scene, which can be quite beautiful as well.

One last thing. I am fully aware that finding calm water may be difficult in our great state where the wind likes to blow. But all is not lost. This time of year provides ample opportunity to find interesting reflections in icicles and iced over melt water as well. As for the mud and mess that will result, I can’t help you.

Posted on February 3, 2015 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Only the Best

By Christian Begeman

As I write this, snow is beginning to fall outside my window and the wind is picking up. January can be a tough month to get photographically inspired. Cold temperatures, biting wind and the muted colors of winter won’t necessarily get a normal person excited to go out and make a photograph. Recently I discovered something that helped me get out and shoot consistently every month. I’m glad I did, as the cold months in the Northern Plains have proven to be just as photogenic as any other time.

Late in 2012, I ran across this Ansel Adams quote:”Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.” I spent a lot of time thinking about that quote and then began to apply it to how I posted photos on my blog. For all of 2013 and 2014, I resolved to only post the 12 best photos I took each month. This taught me two very important things: If I was going to post 12 photos labeled my”best,” then they better be good photos, and if I was going to post 12 a month, then I better get off the couch and start shooting.

Approaching my photography hobby in this manner actually inspired me to shoot more than I ever did. Getting 12 good photos meant I would have to shoot a lot more than 12, plus I wanted variety. I didn’t want eight photos of the various moods of my dog. I also learned a lot about self-critiquing, a skill that all aspiring photographers should have. I belong to a couple photography social media groups. I’ve noticed that photographers who I think are top-notch don’t post a photo every day or even every week, but when they do the photos are usually exquisite. It only makes sense. If you are going to show the world your photography, why not only show the best? How do you get your best? You keep searching, learning and creating.

Another great thing about approaching my photography passion in this manner is that it often creates diverse opportunities and new horizons. I never would have gotten into birding if it weren’t for looking for new and interesting photographs to make. Like most photographers, I used to be only interested in sunsets, landscapes and wildflowers. Now I can walk into a wooded valley, stop and listen and tell you species of birds that are in the area just by hearing their vocalizations, which is really fun even if I don’t take a photo.

The photos accompanying this story are 12 of my best photos taken in South Dakota in January. From winter sunsets to macro shots of frost on my window, it shows my photographic journey through the month. Whether Mr. Adams would find the photos”significant” or not, I don’t know, but I do know that I’ve become a better and more diverse photographer because of it.

Posted on October 20, 2014 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

The Golden Season

By Christian Begeman

With beauty that can be as brief as the next north wind, fall signals the end of the growing season and the coming cold of winter. I often hear people say autumn is their favorite time of year. I like it too, although I think its stay is too brief.

Finding the perfect fall foliage is not always easy. I have some favorite spots to check each year, and every once in awhile I find something unexpected. One constant is the cool overnights. This change in weather can leave heavy dew or even frost in the early morning. This has the potential to make photographic macro magic, so this year I tried more close-up detail than I ever have.

Early one September morning in Spearfish Canyon, I discovered the magic of frost on fallen leaves. Because my mind doesn’t always function to its fullest during the early hours of the day, I forgot one of my favorite lenses in my vehicle and didn’t realize it until I had walked all the way down to Spearfish Falls from the parking lot of the Latchstring Inn at Savoy. All I had was my macro lens. While getting ready to head back up the trail I noticed what looked like sugarcoated red leaves and grass in the chilly shadows by the creek. I spent the next half hour on my knees among those fallen leaves. It’s funny how things work out –as I tarried with the frosted leaves, I happened to be there when the first sunlight appeared over the canyon walls and bathed the falls in a unique display of color and light.

Have you ever noticed that fall foliage can look absolutely breathtaking from a distance, but among the trees that beauty can seem less than you expected? Maybe it’s just me, but I often run in to situations like that. So this year, I decided to shoot many of the autumn scenes I encountered with a long lens. A telephoto lens allows a photographer to better isolate the subject with its background. Since you”zoom in” from a distance, you can concentrate more color in your photo, whereas the full measure of that combined color may be lost when you’re close and shooting with a wide-angle lens. The high draws of the Sage Creek Wilderness in Badlands National Park are a great place to use this technique. I like to walk out on the hills above the little valleys and feature the color in the foreground while pulling in the distant and rugged badlands as the background. If I walked up to the start of the draw and shot with a normal lens, I would lose all that concentrated color and the drama of the distant badlands.

Whatever your style or favorite technique may be, autumn is a great time to get out and shoot. Even after the gold, red and orange disappears, there are still opportunities for colorful leaves on the forest floor or in your yard. But you better hurry. Soon the wind will leave the land bare with only a white cover for a blanket. That is, until the rhythm of the seasons starts all over again next spring.

Posted on August 26, 2014 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Beauty in the Storm

By Christian Begeman

I learned early that rain is a blessing in South Dakota. I remember well the dry years of the early 1980s. I was a just a kid on our farm on the border of Dewey and Ziebach counties. The heat was relentless, and the wind blew great congregations of grasshoppers from field to pasture. I remember the hungry’hoppers stripping even the kosher weeds to bare stems one particularly bad summer. Water gun fights and orange sherbet push-ups helped cool us. A few nights were so hot I remember filling my small squirt gun with water and shooting at the ceiling so the water would fall down as if it were raining on me while I lay in bed. I grew up thinking that hot, dry summers were the norm. Those experiences are probably rainstorms are blessings and things of beauty to me today.

Over the years South Dakota has proven that hot and dry summers really are not that normal. Despite reading the Old Farmer’s Almanac, you never know what the warm months will bring. This year has been wetter than most. Some areas got too much of a good thing, resulting in flash floods and washed out roads. Tornadoes, wind and hail have also caused damage. Yet photographing the colossal clouds, lightning and general impressiveness of a South Dakota storm never seems to go out of style. Whether you are a professional storm chaser or an average Joe with a smart phone, getting a decent shot of the drama in the sky is a thrilling accomplishment.

I think part of it is the inherent danger. Lightning strikes, high wind and hail are life threatening at worst and white-knuckle nerve wracking at least. Modern day radar technology makes watching storm development easy, which helps predict where a storm will be. Knowing the terrain — where to find a good structure like a barn or a church to include in the photo for perspective and framing — is important. As with most really good photography, patience is also key. I’ve learned the best shots often come after the storm. Some of the most beautiful light ever seen is the early evening summer sun shooting through the last clouds of a passing storm.

People often ask me how to shoot lighting, but I don’t have great answers. My first attempts involved resting a Minolta film camera on a barbwire fence behind our farm as an August dry lightning storm passed overhead. Not smart. What I know now is that you need a tripod. You need to know your camera well enough to keep the exposure open as long as possible (without overexposing). Also, use a remote trigger and be persistent. I once had two cameras shooting time lapses of an approaching afternoon storm with significant lightning over Bear Butte. Out of over 1,400 frames only two caught lightning strikes.

A storm’s beauty is more than lightning and impressive cloud structures, though. The rolling thunder, the smell of rain on the wind and the first cool gust of air on a hot summer’s day can’t be captured with a photograph, but because of pursuing the photograph these things are captured in my experience and held in my memory. A good rainstorm will always be a thing of beauty to this South Dakotan.

Posted on July 7, 2014 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Dirty Work

By Christian Begeman

I have to admit that my photography hobby could fool people at a casual glance. If you didn’t know me and happened to catch me when the photography muse strikes, I could forgive you for thinking that my elevator may not reach top floor. What other passion takes you out in the middle of clear, moonless nights for hours at a time miles from home … on a weeknight? What other hobby causes a grown man to sprawl spread eagle on the open prairie, awkwardly avoiding cactus and cowpies while brushing off bloodthirsty creepy crawlies just to get the best angle of light on a flower?

I’ve ripped countless jeans in far too many places from pesky barbed wire or simply awkward positioning in the heat of the photography moment. I single handedly keep insect repellent companies in business during the summer. I’ve gone to work looking like I was in a bar fight the night before because a gnat bit my eyelid and it nearly swelled shut. I got a satisfying kick out of saying,”you should have seen the other guy … squashed him like a bug,” to any co-worker who asked (and some who didn’t). Photography is probably proving that I’m a touch on the crazy side.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed by country churches and stormy skies. There is something, however, that can break me away even from those pursuits. Anytime I spot a patch of blooming wildflowers, I can’t help but grab a camera and start shooting. When I can get flowers with a country church, then it’s near photographic nirvana.

It’s been a late and wet spring. That means wildflowers have been going strong this year. I took a trip in late May to the western half of our state and found hillsides in bloom in Wind Cave National Park and Custer State Park. On my way back east, I stopped at Sica Hollow State Park to find more woodland beauties. Most of the spring flowers are done now, but the sunflowers, coneflower and prairie roses of early summer are out just waiting for you take their photos. Here are a couple suggestions on shooting wildflowers to get you prepared:

If possible, buy or borrow a macro lens. These lenses are engineered to allow very close focusing, which allows small buds and petals to appear large and detailed in a photograph. The first time I put on one my camera, I didn’t want to take it off for days. It can transform how you see a flower or even a bug.

Make use of a wide angle lens. Shooting as wide as possible does two things: it makes your depth of field rather big so more of the scene will be in focus, and it allows you to show the general area where the flowers are found. So you can show the entire hillside of flowers instead of just a few.

Don’t be afraid to get dirty. Anybody can shoot a flower from a standing eye level looking down. Interesting angles and details not always seen can be found at or below the flower’s level.

Watch for distractions in the shot. I’ve been frustrated more times than I like to admit when I notice an odd piece of grass in the composition that I didn’t notice while shooting. It is easy to get so focused on the flower that the surrounding details don’t get noticed. This is a tough one for me, but it pays to pay attention to everything in the frame.

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Andrea Maibaum — Leave a comment

Sounds of Spring

By Christian Begeman

The greening of the countryside seemed to come a couple weeks late across South Dakota this year. I had planned on capturing flowers for this post. After all,”April showers bring May flowers,” right? Since the flowers of May didn’t really burst until Memorial Day weekend, I didn’t get a chance to photograph many during the course of the month. The good news is that the delayed spring growth allowed me to see one of the hidden natural storylines play out a bit more clearly this year.

Most of us who watch the South Dakota skies in early spring are very aware of when the spring migration begins. It is hard to miss the large flocks of geese and other waterfowl moving through our little corner of the great American flyway. The latter half of spring migration can be a lot harder to notice, mostly because the songbirds that bring up the rear are small, fast and unless you have a birdfeeder near your home, usually only heard and not seen.

This spring, however, has seen a very productive songbird migration. At least for me. I have seen and photographed more colorful balls of energy than any other year. I think part of the reason is that the tree canopies were slow growing and the other reason may be that I’m just learning how to notice things like this. As a photographer, I’m always interested in bold colors as well as the challenge of taking a photo of something in a way that is not usually seen.

My equipment this year has primarily been a 100-400 mm telephoto lens with a 1.4 extender. This kind of lens needs a lot of light so shooting while the sun is shining is helpful. The other key is being in the right place at the right time. I found that most of the parks along the Big Sioux River system in southeast South Dakota offer good opportunities to see, hear and photograph songbirds. To top it off, the newest state park, Good Earth Park at Blood Run southeast of Sioux Falls, has a feeder that is maintained by the Sioux Falls Bird Club. It is because of this feeder that I was able to observe many”firsts.”

One of my favorites has been the amazing little ruby-throated hummingbird. I actually saw my first hummingbird in the Grand Tetons last spring. I apparently had walked too close to something it treasured and it buzzed me several times. Ever since that encounter this fearless little humdinger has intrigued me, and I was determined to find a ruby-throated version in South Dakota. I figured that feeders at Good Earth would be a good place to start. The hunch paid off. I spent three early mornings before work observing two different males and a female. The males sparred a couple times and their aerial feats of speed, quickness and precise flying were breathtaking. Later this spring I observed three different rubies”in the wild” (away from feeders) at Sica Hollow State Park in northeast South Dakota. Needless to say, I was thrilled.

I’m not a professional birder by any means, but it’s growing on me. I’ve learned that simply taking the time to look hard can be a wonderful experience. Watching what goes on amongst the branches gives those hikes through our state park trail system a new level of enjoyment. If you are patient, persistent and a little bit lucky, a rare encounter with a little songster can and will happen. Those experiences remind me of the many-layered beauty that surrounds us in this great state if we just take the time to look.