This should not be a Grouse Pic.

The quality just isn't there. Looks okay shrunk down to the 390 pixel width of the linking image, but at full size, it is just horribly blurred.

Wish I could say I intended it to be that way, but I didn't.

But it is presented here as a Grouse Pic, just the same.

'Cause I want it to be.

Took that shot on our elk telemetry flight last week. Took close to 200 pictures in that 1.6 hour flight, and almost all came out the same way.

Blurred.

The result of a slow shutter speed, whilst flying at 160+ miles per hour. And nothing to be done about the shutter speed, because, plain and simple, it was dark. Cloudy and overcast for almost all of the flight.

Took the shot above after we'd made the fun passage down one drainage, and up the river bottom to find the ninth elk. Fortunately she was right where we expected her to be (and has been for a couple weeks), so we were able to pin down her location without having to worry about the low cloud cover.

At least, I didn't worry about the cloud cover. Much.

Don't know about the pilot.

But elk number ten, unless she'd moved a tremendous distance, was clear on the other side of the Continantal Divide. On the other side of a mountain range that rose to 10,500 feet between her and us, with clouds hanging around 8,800 feet. To fly directly towards her, we'd have to switch to instruments, instead of visual flying. Which the pilot is perfectly capable of doing. But our outfit's flight policy is none too happy about flying in instruments-only weather.

But more importantly, those clouds out there were only a few degrees warmer than freezing. Fly into that wet and start to climb, at 160 mph, and we're liable to find ourselves laying on so much ice we can't get over 10,500 foot mountains.

Which would be bad.

Add to that, we have no idea what the clouds are like on the other side of the mountains. Yeah, we had weather reports, but they can't tell you exactly how low the clouds get. Especially when you don't know exactly where you're going to be flying until you get the elk's radio signal and start tracking it.

So, after finding elk nine, we turned north instead of east. Back towards home, back where we knew there were sunny skies. With the hope of crossing the Divide at one of its lowest points, skirting around the north side of the mountains and clouds, and then flying along the east side of the Divide to look for our elk.

It was on this northern leg, squeezed in between the tree-covered mountains below and grey clouds above, that I spotted this aspen grove. One of the few still bearing leaves, all a glowing gold. As I looked ahead at the aspen, I could see the mists rising from the creek bottom beyond. And the stand of dark green conifers that would frame the aspen so beautifully when we were straight across.

All I needed was for the three elements to line up just right. And for our course to stay straight. So I waited. Took one practice shot, just in case, but with a digital, you don't dare take a picture too soon before the one you really want. Takes the camera too long to reset between images.

So I waited. Waited for the conifers to shift in behind the aspen, and for the puffs of mist to rise at exactly the right time.

And they did.

Of all the photos I tried to take during that flight, this is the one I really wanted.

And I got it.

Sorta.

If you don't mind the blur.