We were about to ladle some red beans and rice into our “porridge” bowls when my cell “pinged” with a message. Jeff Klages. Apparently there was a huge gathering of migrating Bald Eagles hunkered down in a prairie grove on the Klages Wildlife Management Area (WMA) about 20 miles east of my farm. This wasn’t the first time Jeff Klages has messaged me about possible photographic opportunities on his Big Stone County farm. A year or two ago it was a pair of Swans with signets in another of his wetlands. Would this be as wonderful?

Here’s the thing: Klages, who besides being successful beefman, is a county commissioner along with another friend, author Brent Olson, and has set me up with some fine photographic opportunities before. Both have, actually. And, Klages’ message came in just after another friend, Richard Handeen, had stopped over with a chainsaw to open our path through the grove where a huge tree had fallen across in a harsh winter storm a year ago, and for good measure took down a nice black walnut that apparently didn’t survive the past few years of spring flooding. Sometimes you just need a little help from your friends. Believe me, all is thoroughly appreciated.

With Klages’ hint in hand we made plans for an early morning rise to get on the road to the WMA and awoke to a brilliant red sunrise blazing through the bathroom window. Experience shows that if you see it coming through the window you might as well simply settle down to appreciate the beauty, for it is already too late to rush into the countryside seeking images. There are the car keys, grabbing the camera gear and so forth, each in its own way necessary, to slow you down as the sun rises ever higher and the ambient colors ebb in an ever growing grayish morning sky. Like this one. Perhaps one should be more aware and prepared. 

As it was, I was pleasantly surprised we were up and off so early, and what a fine little road trip we had. Once we reached the junction on the outskirts of Ortonville we still needed to course through nine miles of somewhat rolling prairie before skirting up a gravel road for a mile, then another half mile or so east. And, there they were, about two dozen Bald Eagles, posed on perch as white crowned royalty in the branches of the patched islands of trees. Occasionally a pair would fly off to make me wish for one of those airborne mating rituals, where the birds face one another in flight, talons holding one another tightly, one rightfully up, the other upside down. Although it seemed close to the courting ritual, their suspected courtship seem to fade in mid-flight.

That’s when a thought of the lovely song by the Beetles came to mind, of how love can sometimes be so lonely … without a little help from your friends.

We were parked alongside the wetland in the WMA long before the prairie winds picked up, and we sat with the windows down listening to prairie nature. We are prone to doing this at times like these. Above us azure to grayish skies hosted the remnants of the earlier sunrise as clouds drifted through, holding just enough color to bring an interesting hue to the images. If the eagles were conversing it was beyond my range of hearing, although faint sounds came of some nearby geese. 

When we left the wetland a bit later we would pass several Canada Geese waddling about in a farm lot just to the east of the WMA, which explained the sounds we had heard. Before we left we headed to the Klages’ homestead where we encountered a flock of resting migrating Redwing Blackbirds perched high in the farm grove. We had stopped to offer our thanks and found only the nearby cattle in the adjacent fields. Down the road on our way back toward the WMA we found a solitary Redwing perched on the branch of a blackened log, a result of an attempted burn, next to a pool of water. Another example of an early though approaching Spring.

Since we weren’t quite ready to leave we stopped briefly at the WMA to once again soak in a little more of the eagles. I was still hopeful of a mating image, but other than the occasional fly off, the eagles were collectively content in their restful perching. Other social media friends have posted similar images in the past few days while we’ve been traversing the nearby prairie in search of geese gatherings. 

Our luck would soon change, for moments later we would find our bonus. Turning back toward the west on the way home on a paved county highway we came across a huge gathering of geese feasting in a stalk field. Initially those closest to the road skirted away and up the rise. As they did so suddenly a huge flock rose from behind the ridge for a very nice portrayal of spring. 

Why should I have been surprised, for when Klages’ messaged me the first time about the swans in his wetland I had passed Stoney Creek about four miles east of the Ortonville junction on the way out where a beautiful snake-like ribbon of fog hung over sweet curves of the creek. Gritting my teeth over a missed opportunity I had continued on down the road for my goal was to capture the Swans in the rising sun.

Like on this trip, though, after securing my initial images, I drove back toward town to surprisingly find the creek still grasping the fog and was blessed when a couple of bank swallows flew through to provide me with an amazing image. Pure fate. It was one of those delightful moments of photography when all the elements suddenly come together. And, now, once again, it did on a morning when we went searching for eagles.

Yet, this was more than about swans, creeks, springtime flocks of geese and eagles. This was more about being neighbors, of being neighborly, of reaching out in anticipation with possible gifts provided by nature.

In these post-Covid and politically difficult times, when our connections with neighbors have seemingly become strained, having neighbors and friends like Jeff Klages, Brent Olson and Richard Handeen, reaching out means so much. All of which makes the world so much gentler and breathable. It just gives one a wonderful feeling that perhaps we aren’t as individually stranded as it feels sometimes. Yes, there are certainly times when we thoroughly appreciate a little help from our friends. And, yes, sometimes I even sing out of tune …