On the Road Again, Chapter 5

The Running of the Photographers (Photos (c) Bonnie J. Schupp)

Five days of work, fun

as photographers take aim

on a Western way of life

SPANISH FORK, Utah – On our eighth day, and after some 2,500 miles of highway and dirt roads, we arrived in this town about an hour south of Salt Lake City for the reason underlying the adventure: An assembly of close to two dozen stock photographers from around the world gathering to shoot Western images.

They had all paid close to a thousand dollars to take part in the event, with the money benefitting a scholarship fund at Utah Valley University. Organizers had taken care of the gnarly matter of model releases from anyone who could conceivably end up in a picture – even the photographers themselves – and arranged for volunteers to ride horses, rope and brand cattle, round up wild horses and even stage a rodeo just for them during a hectic four-day schedule.

But the bonus was all the fun and comraderie, with many of the participants – and a bunch of companions who paid $150 to be “socials” – meeting for the first time, but familiar with each others’ work. They are all “exclusive” photographers at iStock, a company acquired a few years ago by Getty Images, and its massive portfolio of images has grown beyond 10 million. (A tad over 1,600 of them are Bonnie’s.)

The countries they hailed from included Canada, Great Britain, Sweden, Slovenia, Turkey and Australia.

At the opening night dinner on Tuesday, May 15, they bought raffle tickets at 10 bucks a pop to take part in small-group photo opportunities, and Bonnie won what she wanted – photographing activities at a large animal veterinary clinic. Unfortunately, the owner of a horse that had a large abscess drained opted not to allow photos to be taken. Instead, she had the tougher challenge of shooting the vet and his staff working on a bull and cows that were hemmed in by a metal enclosure during procedures.

Me, getting an earful of equine affection.

There was a morning at a couple of dairy farms, trying not to step on manure (getting that out of shoe-bottom ridges was no fun at all); an afternoon at a ranch; horse riders galloping past at a wilderness location; the penning of cattle that were roped, one at a time, by men and young women and then branded and given numerical ear tags (the young son of one of the ranchers had some on-the-job training in both procedures); and a rodeo at the arena in Nephi, a town about 35 miles south of Spanish Fork.

The final event was a party at a home on the outskirts of town, where the backyard includes a full-size rodeo ring. Even lights. Sort of a “Field of Dreams” for riding and roping. It was built by Casey Pratt, a former cop who has a landscaping business but rodeo in his heart. And every year, he has played host to a rodeo gathering whose guests include world champions.

The various events showed how family is a key element of ranch and farm life, and even rodeo. Fathers teach sons and daughters, and the lifestyle becomes a bond between generations. There’s laughter when a boy about 8 years old tries to ride a steer as it was released after branding, and gets tossed into the dirt in a split second. And he gets a pat on the back when he successfully wields the electric branding iron.

Images that stay with me as an observer were of a dozen riders rounding up a herd of wild horses and running them past the lined-up photographers. And then there was  “the running of the photographers,” in which the horsemen rode behind as a group of the shooters staged a Monty Pythonesque slow-motion gallop. Two of the comical runners collided in the chaos, and three of them ended up tumbling into dirt. But no one (and no camera) was injured. 

And everyone took pictures of everyone, sharing them in posts on the event Facebook page – including the hilarious video of the running and falling photographers.

Bonnie and "Clyde" (Photo (c) Roberto Adrian Sanchez)

And our new friend Roberto, a Cuba-born resident of Miami, took a few shots of Bonnie and me standing in the dark next to a vintage wreck of a 1930s-style sedan – inspired, he said, at thoughts of Bonnie and Clyde. (Yup, I was Clyde.) 

Late Sunday night, back at the hotel, most of the shooters and socials partied outside the headquarters motel entrance sharing their beer, liquor and wine, and stories. Friendships forged since Tuesday’s dinner were evident, and Facebook friend invites ensued before the parting. 

One of the photographers, Owen from England, sat on a bench with an old iStock beret upturned at his feet. Others began tossing coins, and then a dollar bill, into it. Peggy-Jo, one of socials, wrapped a light blanket around his shoulders. Another made an impromptu cardboard sign reading, “Will Shoot for Food.” Shutters clicked. Then they all gathered around Owen – and the sign – for a group portrait. I shot it with Bonnie’s iPhone. Turned out pretty good, just like the entire event.

The last-night party group, except for me. (Photo by David M. Ettlin, that's why!)

Next Chapter: Surviving U.S. 50 in Nevada

On the Road Again, Chapter 4

Former Baltimore Zoo director Brian A. Rutledge leads his two-year-old filly for a training session on the ranch he and his wife Kathleen own in northeastern Colorado.(Photo (c) Bonnie J. Schupp)

Learning about ranch life,

and a threatened bird,

from a friend in Colorado

Former zoo director focuses  on conservation

By mid-afternoon on Saturday, we have crossed the border on I-80 through southeastern Wyoming and headed south on Interstate 25 into Colorado for a visit with an old friend, again a result of Facebook.

The friend is Brian A. Rutledge, who for most of the 1980s into the early 1990s was director of the Baltimore Zoo. I grew up about two miles from Baltimore’s Druid Hill Park, home to the second-oldest public zoo in the nation, and occasionally rode my bike there. Admission during my childhood was free, and countless families have snapshots of their kids sitting on its iron lion statues or feeding bunnies in the cages that dominated the exhibits back in the 1950s. 

As a reporter for The Sun, I staked out an informal beat, usually on my own time, covering the zoo, including the stewardship of director Steve Graham, who made headlines and unpopularity by suggesting the euthanization of unneeded Kodiak bear cubs and feeding them to the big cats.

But Graham's more-lasting accomplishing was to hire Brian, who soon became his successor and embarked on a mission of modernizing the zoo. He sped up the development of naturalistic animal environments to replace the old steel-bar cages, and opened a spacious elephant area and a  children’s zoo section focusing on Maryland habitat and species – both still among the most popular exhibits.

In Baltimore, he also made news as the victim of a rare crime – horse theft. His pastime was a sport known as cattle cutting, in which horse and rider maneuver to direct the actions of a cow in an arena. And someone stole a horse from his city-owned home on the edge of Druid Hill Park. He and police tracked down and recovered the horse, and Brian moved his family and animals to the rural community of Woodbine miles from the city.

Some months ago, I noticed his posting of a comment on a Facebook post that included a wonder about whether I was still around. My response was to send a friend request, and our friendship was reborn online. After leaving Baltimore, Brian’s gigs included running the Stoneham and Franklin Park zoos in Boston for a few years, then heading west with his wife Kathleen,  to Colorado. (They'd met at a horse show.)

They live on a 160-acre horse ranch in the high desert, low mountain landscape of Livermore – close enough to our westward route for a weekend visit.

He has a dozen horses here, and four dogs, and raises cattle. It’s a very western way of life, near the end of a drive along a sparsely populated 12-mile stretch of dirt and washboard-rutted road.

He also found a job more in keeping with his life’s passion – conservation. He’s a vice president of the Audubon Society, in charge of sagebrush programs in 13 states, including 11 of them focused on the sage grouse (aka, prairie chicken).

Instead of dealing with boards of directors and bureaucracy to run zoos, he’s working with state and federal officials to preserve sagebrush environments critical to survival of a bird species that once numbered around 20 million, and now estimated at  less than 500,000.

So we received a lesson on the sage grouse, and its critical – but to many, unappreciated – role in a fragile ecosystem. An Audubon magazine cover posted on a stairway wall focuses on the issue, headlined “How the Sage Grouse Can Save the West.” And it is the subject of a TED talk he presented a few years ago in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Historically, the sage grouse fed native tribes in harsh times and settlers migrating westward in the 19^th century. It’s deemed a stupid bird, one that a 9-year-old could walk up to and whack with stick to help feed the family. But in breeding season, it nests in sagebrush, concealed by its coloration from predators. In the western states’ food chain, its existence supports the wildlife that tourists travel to see.

 Brian’s task has been making allies in the states, including their governors, to protect millions of acres of sagebrush lands – much but not all owned by the federal government at a time when the current administration in Washington is shrinking national parks or allowing the plunder of public lands for oil and gas drilling and other commercial uses.

Kathleen, a stunning brunette who does not appear close to her age of 60, works days a week, handling the recordkeeping chores for a financial adviser in Fort Collins – but with Brian shares the many chores of ranch life tending the animals. And she has a fantastic collection of Western-style boots.

Beyond talking about environmental and conservation issues, and a little of our agreed-on politics, we enjoyed their company Saturday evening and Sunday. Bonnie photographed them working their horses, and teaching a two-year-old filly the directions and moves necessary for cattle cutting. Brian even managed for only the second time to get her saddled and briefly mount up in the ranch training ring.

We treated for dinner Sunday in an old cafe back down the 12 miles of dirt and rutted roads.

Bonnie and I, sandwiched at dinner by Kathleen and Brian Rutledge.

Brian drove us all in his Toyota 4-Runner, which handled the bumps a lot better than our Camry. It has about 100,000 miles on its odometer -- and he has another one with 300,000 miles, along with the inevitable pickup truck and the trailer needed for hauling horses and livestock. (Soon after we left Monday morning, they headed off on a three-hour drive to Wyoming to sell a horse and pick up eight heifers.)

Brian’s got a tidy gray beard, and a sparse head thatch covered by a stylish cowboy hat. In the saddle, he could pass for a western movie star. He’s pushing through his late 60s, but you’d hardly know it. He’s home on the range, and living his dreams. 

Next chapter: Rodeo photographers’ round-up