If you’ve stepped outside in North Georgia lately, you may have noticed the golden glint of a web stretched between trees—or worse, a palm-sized spider hanging just above your front door. The Joro spider, an invasive species from East Asia, has made itself right at home in the Southeast. And experts say it’s only spreading from here.

The first Joro spider was reported in the United States in Hoschton, Georgia, in 2013. The first confirmed sighting by ecologists came just a year later in 2014. Now, just 11 years later, these black and yellow spiders can be found, well, absolutely everywhere.

What are they?

Native to East Asia, Trichonephila clavata can be found in China, Japan, Korea and Taiwan. The common name, Joro Spider, comes from Japanese culture and the Jorōgumo. The Jorōgumo is a mythical creature that can transform in to a beautiful woman who can control spiders. The spider has a mainly yellow abdomen, with striped black and white legs. Females can have both blue and red towards the back of their abdomen as well.

Like with most spiders, females are much larger than males. Most females top out at around 1″ across the abdomen at most, but can get as large as 1.5″. With fully extended legs, they can reach a staggering 6″ or slightly more across making them a truly daunting insect to have hanging from your outdoor swing.

They spend the winter as eggs that hatch in the spring. The juveniles spread by loosing some web that carries them along any breeze, a common theme among spiders known as ballooning.

Are they dangerous?

The short answer: no. Joro Spiders are rarely known to bite humans unless extremely agitated. Simply walking into their web is rarely enough to trigger a bite. When they do bite, their venom is extremely weak towards humans, resulting in something like a cross between a mosquito bite and a bee sting that quickly goes away.

Speaking of webs: they are sticky. Joros belong to the orb-building family of spiders known for their spiral-shaped webs. Joro webs are particularly strong, as anyone who has ever had the displeasure of walking into one will tell you. They can stretch up to 10 feet wide, with support strands even longer. Locally, they can often be seen building on lamps, trees, and between power lines. I can attest they are strong enough to stop a weather station from functioning properly, as this unfortunate female had to be removed from her spot.

The webs are generally golden in color as well, which can make them appear quite beautiful in the early morning and late evening light.

Are they bad for the environment?

Joro spiders are considered an invasive species. In areas where they have spread, they have become the dominant orb weaver, causing declines in native populations. They will eat anything that falls into their webs, including other spiders, as well as other invasive species.

One positive aspect of the Joro spider is that they find the invasive stinkbugs (also from the same regions as them) especially tasty, something other native spiders haven’t been able to properly control just yet. They also eat invasive beetles and the highly problematic lanternflies that have yet to reach Georgia but will likely soon be here. Their strong, sticky web enables them to catch larger beetles and stinkbugs more easily than native species, which are not accustomed to such large prey.

Since they have only been around for a decade, it remains to be seen what long-term effects the spiders could have on our local ecosystems. Females lay up to 500 eggs a year, with the spiders expanding in range by around 10 miles per year on their own without any hitchhiking. They will certainly have a negative impact on native populations, which is already being seen, but will the good outweigh the bad? I guess we’ll see. The Joro Spider is a new neighbor we’re going to live with for a long, long time.

A few years back, around Thanksgiving Day, I headed out to get some pictures in an area where I’d had good luck getting wildlife images. I got in the stand before daylight, where I had gotten a quick glimpse of a nice buck a week before.

On this particular morning, the sky was overcast, and there was no sunrise to speak of. The trees slowly materialized out of the darkness into dawn. As they did, the sounds of morning began to be heard: a woodpecker drumming on a dead tree and crows leaving their roost, fanning out and calling to each other.

As the morning slowly grew brighter to reveal actual images rather than the hallucinations my imagination had created from memory, faint images began to emerge from the trees into the hayfield. A flock of turkeys had just come off their roost. They were starting to feed and occasionally spook a bit, making low yelps and clucking calls as they got to the top of the hill in the hayfield.

I noticed a larger lone figure making its way out of the woods into the open area. There was enough light to tell as soon as it left the trees that this was a deer, a doe. She was also feeding as she made her way up the hill. When she got to the flock of turkeys at the top of the hill, she politely went around the flock of turkeys and out of sight down the other side of the hilltop.

Just as she went out of sight, another deer came out of the trees on the same path she was on. This was a larger deer with visible antlers. I pulled up my camera and saw that it was the same nice buck that I had seen the week before. It was the same rack missing a brow tine on the left side.

I was amazed at the change in the appearance of this buck due to the effects of the hormones of “the rut.” In just one week, his neck had gotten visibly larger, and his behavior was now a restless pursuit of the doe. He was tasting the air with his tongue and curling his lip up. He was focused on the scent of the doe in heat. As the buck went up the hill, he encountered the flock of turkeys at the top. He was determined not to lose the doe’s scent and wasn’t interested in going around the flock. As he headed straight into the flock to stay on the doe’s scent trail carried by the air, he met his match.

To my surprise, the flock’s gobbler challenged the buck and stopped him with wings and tail spread wide. In all my previous years in the woods, both deer and turkey hunting, I had never seen a “standoff” between a buck and gobbler.

That buck wasn’t going to let a gobbler stand in his way. He took a poke at the bird with his horns.

Unfortunately, the low light prevented me from getting a photo of the fast-action flogging the gobbler gave the buck. Still, I was able to catch what happened next. The gobbler bowed up and started after the buck.

The chase was on!

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The gobbler chased the buck back and forth, and soon, the flock joined in. Those wild turkeys went wild on that stag and, to my surprise, chased him away.

I lost sight of the buck and the doe, but the turkeys continued feeding. As for me, I sat there in awe, marveling at the gumption and bravery of the feathered flock, once again grateful to witness the wonder of God’s creation up close.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I left the house at the crack of dawn on my camo bike, just able to see my way down the dirt road to the lake. I loaded my gear and launched my blind boat as quietly as I could so as not to disturb the wildlife community of the small flood control lake. The lake was shrouded in fog; the only sounds were the chorus of frogs scattered around its edges.

I slipped quietly across the lake, anticipating seeing something to photograph after the fog lifted.

As the sun rose higher yet still obscured by the fog, the frogs turned quiet as the nocturnal community retired. I stopped the boat in the still silence to witness the lake come to life. I spotted a Phantom Crane Fly that rests so lightly on the lake’s surface that it doesn’t break the surface tension. It was clothed in the morning dew.

A female Belted Kingfisher flew low along the lake’s perimeter to light on her favorite perch sprinkled with dry fish scales. She broke the silence with her characteristic rattling call.

A young whitetail buck saw me from the bank and slipped away into the fog without a sound.

The sun rose higher into the sky, burning away the fog and revealing the beauty of this refuge I found the year before.

I noticed something red floating in the water at a distance. I lifted my camera, which doubles as a spotting scope, to see a trumpet vine bloom floating on the surface.

As I approached the bloom, I realized there were more in a near-straight line evenly spaced on the surface. They were distributed in a trail that tempted me to follow it to its origin. Through the night, a light breeze out of the west had blown and dispersed them as they fell from their vine.

I didn’t have to follow the trail, as it pointed to a tree leaning out over the lake supporting the vine full of blooms. This tree had character. The top had broken out, and a woodpecker had made its home in the trunk. What a beautiful front porch the woodpecker had. I had seen hummingbirds at other blooms in recent days, so I decided to anchor the boat to see if any would be coming to this vine full of blooms.

As I suspected, a female showed up to sip the nectar from the blooms.

I found getting images of the hummers at this tree was much more challenging than at a feeder. The blooms were scattered all over the tree from ten to twenty-five feet away. The hummers showed up at one bloom and then off to another in a split second while I tried to get focus. The light was still too low to use a shutter speed capable of freezing their fast-moving wings.

I repeatedly saw one female leave and go to a nearby red oak tree with no blooming plants nearby. She would disappear into the foliage, then return for more nectar sips.

I went over to investigate on a hunch and, sure enough, discovered her nest. This was the climax of the summer.

I researched and learned that hummingbird nests are made of “plant down” from dandelions and thistle fibers bound and secured to the tree limb with spider silk. The nest is then covered in lichens to shed water, which also happens to camouflage the nest, as you can see.

I didn’t want to disturb the mother-to-be, so I only paid an occasional visit to capture an image of her incubating the eggs, which I learned were the size of a black-eyed pea.

It wasn’t long until she could be seen feeding the nutritious mixture of nectar and tiny insects to her babies. My research said that the babies doubled in size three days after hatching and, at five days, had doubled again.
In just a matter of days, their beaks were already visible, sticking above the edge of the nest.

A week later, one had already fledged and the second could be seen easily above the nest.

Such a hard-working mom doing all this on her own.

Dedicated to my Lord Jesus Christ, who most beautifully colors all of his creation that I photograph. – Joe Berry

High up in the mountains near the small town of Lebanon, Virginia, lies a unique geological area unlike anything else east of the Mississippi.

The Great Channels State Forest is an unusual place to visit. It is located in what may as well be the middle of nowhere in Southwest Virginia near the small town of Lebanon. Here, a trail leads from Highway 80 up the mountain for about 3.5 miles.

The hike to the top is uneventful, just a non-stop uphill climb from the road that traverses some beautiful, steep forests. A handful of small cabins are located nearby at the start of the trail, and if you pay attention, you may see a bear or two hanging out, especially near the bottom of the trail.

There are many snakes in this area, too. Anything from copperheads to small ground snakes can be found. One of these guys greeted me on my trip.

After the climb, you will be greeted by an old, defunct fire tower atop the mountain. It is illegal to climb, unfortunately, but you can get a wonderful view of the surrounding mountains by just hopping up the large sandstone outcrops that dot this area.

On a clear day in the winter, you can see as far as eastern Tennessee from here. This particular overlook is extremely deceptive of what lies below. The trail drops about 100 feet to the right of this spot, where you enter a very unusual place.

The geology of The Great Channels is somewhat fascinating. The rock here is all sandstone and was deposited around 400 million years ago. Exactly how these giant slot canyons came to be is still up for debate, but the general consensus is that during the last ice age, the sandstone shattered. Over time, the joints expanded to create the corridors located just below the overlook above.

After rounding a corner of the trail, you are greeted by a giant corridor lined with rock on both sides.

From here on out, the trail becomes less formal and runs between these giant sandstone cliffs in many directions. They are laid out in somewhat of a grid pattern and cover about 20 acres on their own. Some of the channels are 10-15 feet wide, and some, like the one below, you have to turn sideways to fit down.

Getting good photographs in this area is hard. It is always somewhat or very dark in the canyons, and many of the rocks are covered in light green moss. It is a truly beautiful place to see, but photos really don’t do it justice.

The area is chock full of very cool rock formations, especially near the edges where the forest has crept in. Tens of thousands of years of erosion have resulted in these spots looking extremely weathered, with holes and caves carved into the rock.

Even deep inside the Channels themselves, life has found a way. These trees have found a way to thrive despite growing at the place where four 100 foot tall corridors meet.

All in all, this is a really, really cool place to visit. The only caveat is there are only ten parking spaces at the trailhead, and anyone not parked in one runs the risk of being towed.

This area fills up on the weekends, but you have a better chance of finding a spot on a weekday. I arrived at 10 a.m. on a hot Wednesday and there were still several spots available. While the climb up was toasty, the air inside the Channels runs about 10-15 degrees cooler, which makes it an enticing spot to explore on hot days.

Next time you find yourself in the middle of southwest Virginia be sure to try and check this area out, you won’t regret it.

Some 375 miles after the Appalachian Trail departs Springer Mountain here in Georgia, it passes through an area known as the Roan Highlands.

Like something out of a fairytale, for a couple of weeks each year, this part of the Appalachian Trail becomes one of the most beautiful places in the country. The balds here are all around or just over 6,000 feet in elevation, meaning spring comes a little later than most places.

Thanks to this elevation, by early to mid-June, the afternoon highs are just now reaching into the 70s, with overnight lows generally still crisp in the 40s and occasionally 30s. Thus, the local wildflowers are usually reaching their peak by mid-month.

Most day hikers in the region depart from Carver’s Gap near Roan Mountain, TN. The trail here straddles the NC/TN line and is wide open with just a couple of small sections of tree cover. More often you will be hiking through waist-high grass and blueberry bushes.

The trail is quite rocky, which can make it a bit difficult. You will also have no shortage of friends along the trail as the area is very popular during these peak times. Most people go to take in the large gardens of Catawba Rhododendrons that bloom.

This year was an off year, with the native bushes largely producing fewer blooms than in previous years. This isn’t particularly unusual, as they often have an “off” year to produce more new growth instead of wasting precious nutrients on flowers. This is especially true with the higher-elevation plants. There were still plenty to be found, however.

If you are determined enough, you can reach Grassy Ridge Bald off a side trail. Hiking up this trail will put you through tunnels of these rhododendrons, eventually coming out on a bald spot near the top. There are numerous rhododendron bushes here; even in an off-year, they are absolutely spectacular.

My favorite flowering bush on the balds isn’t the rhododendron but the Flame Azaleas. Azaleas are a sub-species of rhododendrons but are generally smaller and produce smaller flowers.

The Flame Azaleas were the star of the show this year, with the bushes being the most loaded I have ever seen.

If you are patient, you will see them covered up in local pollinators, too. Honeybees, hummingbirds, and various butterflies and moths love the sweet nectar. Monarchs can even be found from time to time, although I did not see any on this year’s trip.

I managed to make it out for two sunsets this year. The most spectacular is the main image at the top of this post, but the one below was a sunset from the day before. Sunsets on Roan have been fickle to me over the years, with some stunners and a lot of clouds. Fortunately, even a cloudy day can result in some pretty spectacular sights.

With the rhododendron and azalea season coming and going at this high elevation we will move deeper into the summer months with Turk’s Cap Lilies, Black-Eyed Susans, Galax, and a host of other wildflowers blooming.

It is certainly worth getting out of the house and occasionally your state for.

This spring has been a slow one for me from a photography standpoint.

In a normal year, I have already seen at least a dozen or more sunsets from several locations along the southern Appalachians, primarily along the spectacular Blue Ridge Parkway. This year, with work, weather, and sickness, I have only made it out to a small handful. That said, I was able to journey all the way to milepost 309 outside of Boone, NC where my favorite sunset spot in the country lies: Flat Rock.

This time of year is when spring is just reaching the higher elevations of the Appalachians. Over the next couple of weeks, the highest peaks above 6,000 feet will finally bloom with rhododendrons and azaleas, and my favorite spot, the Roan Highlands, will be peaking (hopefully with me there to witness). Right now, the sweet spot lies around 4,000-5,000 feet, where mountain laurels, rhododendrons, and flame azaleas are thriving. This particular night, I will be focused on mountain laurel.

I have been to Flat Rock enough to know roughly where every plant is. It is a weird thing to know, but an important one for photography since you don’t always have a lot of time to explore.

This particular night, I arrived just after a thunderstorm, and, as luck would have it, the skies were quickly clearing to the east. The sun broke through the clouds and lit up the lingering mist in the valley below. I have seen a few sunsets like this over the years, and they have always been some of my favorites. Seeing the clouds below is truly an unforgettable experience, especially when the sun hits them and lights them up golden orange.

One important part of photography is not letting a good sunset go to waste. I spent the next half hour after arriving, getting every possible angle: close-ups, far-away, and different angles.

Of course, sometimes you have to flip the camera sideways to get something new. There was a time when 95% of the photographs I took were turned portrait. These days, with wide-angle lenses, I tend to run more 50/50.

The best sunsets don’t stop when the sun sets, however. Any sunset chaser worth their salt knows that the best part of a sunset often comes after the sun has gone down. This wasn’t necessarily the case this evening, but the after-sunset show was still spectacular. The higher clouds to the south were lit a beautiful pink, matching the white and pink blooms of the mountain laurel.

I like this spot in particular because you get not only a mountain laurel but also a Galax flower that blooms right next to it. The Southern Appalachians are covered up with Galax and their white blooms are quite pretty.

As the sun continued to sink, the lingering clouds just overhead were lit a beautiful pink.

After this, the sky would fade into black, and the stars would return as I journeyed home.

A misty mountain sunset was in the books; this one was no fantasy.

This article is part of a continuing series of photo essays by Now Habersham’s Tyler Penland. For more on his travels, visit Roads Less Traveled in the Feature section of NowHabersham.com.

After getting back from my trip to the Oregon Coast my travel wasn’t quite done just yet.

My best friend was packing his bags to move up to Montana, which meant a long road trip for him. I would follow him and his dad for a short part of the way there so we could pay a visit to yet another national park.

Mammoth Cave National Park in southern Kentucky was established in 1941 and contains much of the longest cave system in the world, currently clocked at 426 miles. I would see just a mere 2-3 miles of this cave system on my trip, but the rich history of the cave is on full display.

The main entrance to the cave system is somewhat unassuming, just a normal hole in the rock with some water flowing over the edge. You’d never know what lies beneath.

When you first enter the cave, one of the most striking things about it is, no surprise, its size. The pathway is extremely wide, and the ceilings are very tall.

I’ve only been in several caves, but this one was incredibly impressive.

The first large room you reach after entering one of the many available tours is known as the Rotunda. This room is an absolutely gigantic amphitheater that contains two war monuments as well as many relics from the days when saltpeter mining was done in the cave. The cave has been owned by many different people, and the whole system runs well outside the borders of the national parks to this day.

The cave hasn’t always been well taken care of. In many sections of the cave, including Gothic Avenue, you can see signatures burned into the ceiling. Some have been there for well over 100 years or more. Fortunately, the National Park largely now keeps this kind of thing from happening.

The cave is mostly protected due to limited access. The only way to see it is through a guided tour. The Park Service offers many different ones. I took two on my trip: the historical tour and the domes and dripstones tour. Both of these were led by well-trained and entertaining rangers who tell you all about the geology and history of the cave.

Getting good photographs from the inside of the cave is difficult. It is, no surprise here, very dark, although it is certainly lit well enough to see. Most of the photos I took turned out with some noise despite running the best equipment I had. I also had the lucky, I suppose, chance to be underground on the Domes and Dripstones tour when the power went out. There is nothing like being underground in total darkness where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face!

Most of the time, when you think about a cave, you think of the beautiful formations of stalactites and stalagmites, like the ones in the photo above. Mammoth Cave is a little different. Most of it features few, if any, of these since it is capped by a large layer of sandstone. The limestone has long dissolved and washed away, leaving behind a stable system of caves. That doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of tight spaces. One section called “Fat Man’s Misery” can be visited on the historic tour and is just a few feet wide.

Overall, I quite enjoyed my time down in the cave. I am not a fan of being underground, but the tours were very enjoyable, and I highly recommend them. There is also plenty of hiking to be done in the region, including some spots where underground rivers reach the surface.

We camped overnight at the National Park campground before going our separate ways. Hopefully I will see my friend again next year in Montana when we can hit even more National Parks….

This article is the latest in a series of photo essays by Now Habersham’s Tyler Penland on his recent trip to the West Coast. For more on his travels, visit Roads Less Traveled in the Feature section of NowHabersham.com.

Waterfalls have long been a major part of my life.

Over the years, I have visited countless places where water decides it needs to lose some elevation very quickly, and it almost always happens in a spectacularly beautiful fashion.

The same can be said for the West Coast.

The biggest difference you’ll notice when visiting waterfalls out west is the size. While our waterfalls here on the East Coast are beautiful, the ones out west come in many shapes and sizes, and many are especially tall. 100-foot+ single drops aren’t unusual; some falls reach several hundred feet or more. Yosemite Falls plummets nearly a half mile from top to bottom.

I didn’t see any quite that tall on this trip, but the ones I did catch were amazing.

I had one final morning before reporting to work in Portland, Oregon. I decided to spend that morning exploring some of the popular waterfalls in the Columbia River Gorge.

The Columbia River in this region separates Oregon from Washington and is a major geologic feature that has helped shape the region. With the stunning Mount Hood overlooking from the west, the Columbia River has carved out a deep gorge with a wide, flat valley. All the waterfall action happens along the walls of the Gorge where Interstate 84 takes you by the towering cliffs.

Dry Creek Falls

My first stop was a waterfall that is near the top of my bucket list: Dry Creek Falls. This waterfall is located just off the Pacific Crest Trail near the town of Cascade Locks. The Bridge of the Gods is a major attraction in this area, but I kept driving past that and out on a small one-lane dirt road to the spot marked on my map as the trailhead.

Hiking in this area, you have to be wary of Mountain Lions, which are indigenous to the region. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter any on this hike, and just a 20-minute walk up a steep trail led me to the grand Dry Creek Falls.

This incredible waterfall plummets through the columnar basalt cliffs of the gorge into a grand amphitheater. A trail runs up alongside the creek to get a great view from the base.

This is one of my favorite photographs from my trip, as it really highlights the columnar basalt in the cliffs. This columnar jointed rock is usually volcanic in nature and actually develops in columns as the rocks cool and contract. This rock is rare on the East Coast, occurring only in a few spots, including one in Virginia, one in Missouri, and a small handful in the Northeast.

I spent a solid hour at this waterfall just enjoying the scenery before heading back down and heading toward my next goal: Multnomah Falls.

Horsetail Falls

I got sidetracked on the way to Multnomah, as the narrow two-lane road that parallels I-84 takes you right by Horsetail Falls. You can probably guess where this waterfall gets its name. It is fairly tall despite the lack of scale in the photos. The straight-on shot is the most common view, and you can really get a feel for why it was named Horsetail.

I was on the hunt for a lesser-viewed angle, though. I hopped beneath a bridge and managed to keep my feet dry to get this shot looking upstream at the drop, complete with the classic clouds and fog so commonly associated with the Pacific Northwest.

After seeing Horsetail, I was running out of time, so I continued on to my ultimate goal for the day.

Multnomah Falls

There are no words to describe Multnomah Falls. This waterfall is nearly 700-feet tall and has come by its popularity honestly. Almost everyone has seen at least one photograph of this classic waterfall with the bridge halfway up. However, a lot of these photos cut off some or most of the bottom drop.

I pulled out my super wide-angle lens to capture this view of the entire thing from top to bottom. The fog and mist add an eerie ambiance to this photo that I really, really enjoy. If you look closely, you can see some people hanging out on the bridge above.

The bridge partially up the falls is unique and I did hike up to it. I captured this isolation shot from the base of the falls and was patient enough to have no people in the picture.

The view of the upper drop from the bridge isn’t one I often see posted, so I made the walk up the steep, paved trail to walk the bridge and see it for myself. Here, the thick mist from the upper drop makes photography extremely difficult. The increasingly thicker fog was also not doing me any favors, but the drop is still lovely in its own right.

Unfortunately, it was time for this trip to come to an end as I had to report to work a little after lunch. I would fly back a few days later but my travels weren’t over yet…

This article is a continuation of a series Now Hab’s Tyler Penland is writing about his recent travels to and through the great American West. He recently visited Oregon, where he reveled in the beauty of the Redwood forest and found some amazing hiking trails along the Pacific coast. 

My journey north along the Oregon coast picked up on a very damp Sunday morning.

Overnight, I learned that I had set my tent up in the only spot in the campsite that had standing water. After packing up in the pouring rain, I trudged north in my rental truck, searching for clearer skies. I finally ran into some about an hour or so north, where Oregon Highway 101 runs through one of the most beautiful stretches of road I have ever driven. An overlook looks up the coast towards the Heceta Head Lighthouse. Much to my surprise and delight, the lighthouse was operational this morning. I had to photograph it from a distance through heavy mist and strong winds, but I still managed to get a passable shot after some editing. You can visit this lighthouse up close, but I did not have time to do that on this trip.

Many overlooks along this section provide absolutely incredible views, unlike anything you can find on the East Coast. Brilliant green cliffs end abruptly in an angry ocean, creating a beautiful juxtaposition of calm and violence.

It is along this section that I had my best run-ins with the local wildlife. Sea birds here were very used to humans and, in fact, likely relied on the tourists for some food. This guy was particularly friendly and even posed for a quick photograph along the stone wall surrounding this overlook.

A bit farther north, I finally managed to find some of the thousands of sea lions that live along the Oregon coast. They tend to congregate in specific areas during stormy weather and this day was no exception.

A local tourist spot called Sea Lion Caves is by far and away the best place to see these adorable animals but I was on a time crunch. Luckily for me at an overlook just a few hundred yards past the attraction I was lucky enough to see around 50 or 60 of them sleeping on the rocks below. A few even hopped off in the rough water to go for a quick, cold swim.

One of the locations I was most excited to visit is known as “Thor’s Well.” I had tried to time my visit to coincide with the low tide, but the strong onshore winds kept the water too high for me to get close enough for a photo. I would encourage a quick Google search if you want to see a good photo. Despite not being able to get close enough for a photo I was able to see the water spilling into the hole in the rock, and the entire area around it is absolutely fascinating! I spent a solid half hour just watching the water roll into numerous narrow cracks in the rock, exploding upon reaching the end.

Photos really cannot do this area justice. It was, for certain, the most terrifying, amazing stop I made on my entire visit.

Probably, the favorite photo I took during the trip came just a bit later on that day at the Yaquina Head Lighthouse. I wound up there somewhat by accident, but I am certainly glad I did. After paying the $7 entrance fee to the historic area, I made my way to a spot known as “agate beach.” Here, the “beach” is made up of tens of thousands of perfectly polished, round black rocks. The sound they make as the waves roll them in and out is indescribable.

Overlooking the small bay stands the iconic Yaquina Lighthouse. The light was built in Paris, shipped to Oregon in 1868, and first lit in 1873. The light is still active to this day and is protected on the National Register of Historic Places. I got a bit wet in the cold Pacific getting this shot of it on its outcrop. The moody skies were a sign that I was about to get rained on for the umpteenth time that day, but it was absolutely worth it.

After leaving the lighthouse, I had only one more thing on my bucket list. After being skunked by sunset the night before I was crossing my fingers I would be successful this time. I wound up near Oceanside, Oregon, at a spot called Tunnel Beach. You walk through a narrow, manmade tunnel constructed in 1926 to access a small stretch of beach otherwise inaccessible and blocked by 100+ foot cliffs. I was far from alone this evening, and to my delight, the sky decided to cooperate.

There is something surreal about seeing the sun set over the ocean. I was still contending with some clouds, but the view couldn’t have been more beautiful.

I had finally checked off a big item from the bucket list, but I still had one more morning before I had to be back at work.

To enjoy more of Tyler’s outdoor adventures and images, click here or visit Roads Less Traveled in the Feature section of NowHabersham.com.

It was 15 minutes before I had to leave to drive the afternoon school bus route, and my phone rang. It was my wife’s good friend and a fellow school bus driver, Lynn, with an urgent tone to her voice.

“Joe! One of these birds has its beak stuck to the house. Can you come and get it loose?”

Of course, “Yes! I’ll be right over to see what I can do,” was my reply.

My Wife, Ginger, and I were ready to go out the door, so we were there in less than a minute, with her house only a quarter mile down the road. When I got out, Bill greeted me. I started to ask where the bird was, but before I could finish my sentence, I saw what appeared to be the feathers of a lifeless bird hanging next to a hanging flower pot under the soffit.

Stuck under the soffit

I went around to see the bird and saw that it was a Barn Swallow that was still alive. It began to struggle to free itself unsuccessfully. A spot of blood on the white house paint told me that it was injured.

It looked as though it had impaled itself on a nail that was exposed under the soffit.

I carefully wrapped my hand around it to stop the struggle and keep it from hurting itself further. I used my other hand to feel its neck and head to find that it had crashed into a cup hook that didn’t have anything hanging from it this year. The hook hidden underneath the feathers was around the bird’s neck, holding it tightly in the corner.

With this knowledge, I gently lifted the bird’s neck from the hook. It was one tough little bird and began another struggle to get out of my hand. It felt strong, so I decided to simply release it and see if it was injured too badly to fly. It flew off immediately and joined the other swallows.

I was so glad that I was able to free it and thanks to Lynn’s quick thinking I was able to get to it in time to save it.

I removed the cup hook and made sure that there were no others. We jumped in the car and made it to school on time. I’m so glad, as that wasn’t an option.

It’s that time of year again

I hadn’t even realized that it was that time of year again for the swallows to return to build their nests. Lynn has the biggest heart when it comes to wildlife. Last year, the swallows built nests on her porch ledges, and she had to clean, repair, and repaint parts of the porch. This year, she is using plastic film to cover the porch posts. I returned to photograph the swallows as I did last year and share the images with you.

The Barn Swallows fly so fast and seemingly erratic that it is difficult to see their beauty and graceful poise. If you watch one that is perched, its head twitches from one position to another in an instant to observe insects nearby. I imagine that to them, we move as slowly as a sloth does to us. They are more difficult to photograph than dragonflies! I know from experience.

I hope my images will give you a view of the Barn Swallows’ beauty and gracefulness.

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Joe Berry is a Certified Georgia Master Naturalist and nature photographer. His work has been featured by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources, Elachee Nature Science Center in Oakwood, and the Leon & Rachel Gathany Museum of Natural History at Toccoa Falls College. To enjoy more of Joe’s spellbinding photography and storytelling, visit Outdoor Living in the Features section of NowHabersham.com.

The North Georgia Technical College horticulture program’s annual spring plant sale will take place from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. on April 15-18 at the Clarkesville campus greenhouses.

The sale will feature a wide variety of warm-season annuals, reliable perennials, woody shrubs, and trees suitable for the North Georgia climate. Cards, cash, and checks will be accepted, and all sales must be made in person. Early bird are encouraged to shop for the best selection and variety.

For more information or to view a complete catalog of plants, click here.

Most of my good locations for photography are privately owned land that is hunted by others. While hunting season was open, I agreed to stay away so as not to interfere with the hunting. Now that the seasons are over and the rain has taken a break, I have had a chance to get back into the woods near the flood control lake and beaver ponds that I visit with my camera.

Golden hour

This past chilly full moon February morning, I left the house on my camoed mountain bike at first light and headed to the flood control lake. The cool ride was a short one, getting through the locked gate and down the dirt road as quietly as I could. I arrived at the tall stand of trees at the lake’s edge and parked the bike silently.

I could hear the Canada Goose honking slightly at the other end of the lake and the raspy yelps of a turkey nearby in the treetops overhead. I didn’t try to find it as the light was still too low.

I saw the full moon starting to set beyond the horizon, so I walked quietly onto the dam to see if the image was good. Distant clouds were obscuring the view of the moon, and with the sun beginning to rise at my back behind the trees, the sunrise wasn’t eventful. So I just watched and listened for the “golden hour” to arrive in hopes that something would present itself to be photographed.

Suddenly, I heard wings flapping, and the gobbler that was still roosted when I arrived was flying across the lake to the other side. The lighting was too low still to bother trying to get an image. I slipped back into the trees beside the lake to provide some cover while I watched for activity. I slipped up to the old house, where I heard the drumming of a woodpecker on the walnut trees in the backyard and saw it fly away from a distance. It flew across the clear-cut to a stand of mature pines that its mate was entering.

At lake’s edge

I went back down to the trees at the lake’s edge to see if there was any new activity. I spotted a pair of Wood Ducks swimming from the middle to the other side of the lake. As they got to the other side, I saw them dunking and bathing, as I have seen many times, and then they flew up onto a tree branch to dry out in the morning sun.

I heard a Kingfisher’s rattling call as it flew from perch to perch, making its way around the lake in search of an unwary fish.

It had been a beautiful and peaceful morning, but I was having no luck at being close enough to the wildlife that I was seeing to get pictures. I could see in my mind’s eye the images that I had captured in the past of what I had been seeing from a distance this morning.

I finally decided to call it a morning and packed my gear on my bicycle.

Just as I was about to mount my bike, I heard the whining call of Wood Ducks at the lake’s edge nearby. I searched through the trees that were blocking the clear view of the lake to catch glimpses of the ducks in the cove below me. The good thing about my view being blocked was that it meant that their view of me was also blocked. I quickly unpacked my gear as I planned a route to get the sun at my back and hopefully reach a spot that the ducks would eventually swim to within my camera range.

First Wood Duck in flight

It’s just about impossible to slip up on these “wild Wood Ducks” with their keen eyesight. If they spot any suspicious movement, they don’t think twice about flying away; they’re airborne in an instant.

I reached my spot and settled in for the wait and hoped that they would swim my way. I waited a few minutes, but instead of the water ripples within my sight increasing, they decreased and then stopped. This meant that they were going up the creek that fed into the cove or were roosting, probably for a nap. I began to wonder what I should do next when I saw a hen fly out of the cove heading across the lake. Then I saw several more begin to fly out, so I stood to get some shots as they went by.

The few tree limbs in the foreground and the busy background prevented my camera auto-focus from getting a lock on them, and I could tell the images were very blurry and out of focus.

As I saw the dozen or so woodies’ backsides crossing the lake, I was disappointed. But then I heard some more getting airborne from the cove and pivoted back around. I aimed clear of the foreground clutter, and as they went by, I pressed the “back button focus” a couple of times until I saw focus. I pressed the shutter button for the 14 frames a second for about half a second. I scrolled through a few images and saw that a couple were looking good. I had gotten my first Wood Duck in flight images with a busy background.

It was a quick pedal home as I was anxiously awaiting to see the images on the PC display.

I got home and processed the files to get images of a mated pair and a single rooster in good focus. I hope that you enjoy the images. I am also showing some of my previous images that I remembered as the morning progressed.

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Joe Berry is a Certified Georgia Master Naturalist and nature photographer. His work has been featured by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources, Elachee Nature Science Center in Oakwood, and the Leon & Rachel Gathany Museum of Natural History at Toccoa Falls College. To enjoy more of Joe’s spellbinding photography and storytelling, visit Outdoor Living in the Features section of NowHabersham.com.

Advocates for a bike and pedestrian trail linking Athens and Savannah have unveiled detailed plans for the project.

Trail backers say the 211-mile trail would be the longest paved trail in America.

It’s called the Hi-Lo Trail since it would include a variety of terrains from Georgia’s hilly Piedmont region to the flat coast.

And its supporters are partnering with a familiar name in Georgia trail-building, the PATH Foundation, to kick-start it.

Atlanta-based PATH operates more than 300 miles of popular trails around Metro Atlanta and elsewhere in Georgia. The organization prepared a nearly 200-page report showing how the Hi-Lo Trail could be built over the next 25 years.

Hi-Lo Trail founder Mary Charles Howard, a resident of Sandersville, said rural Georgians are missing out on the health and economic benefits of car-free trails.

“People just aren’t riding their bikes in those towns because there’s no infrastructure for it, and it’s not safe to be on the road,” Howard said. “And I thought lots of other people had this frustration as well, and I’m too stubborn to stick around and wait for somebody else to do it.”

PATH’s report includes possible routes, cost estimates, and funding sources for each of the eight counties the trail would pass through: Greene, Hancock, Washington, Johnson, Emanuel, Bulloch, Effingham, and Chatham.

It would connect to Athens via the planned Firefly Trail in Athens-Clarke County.

PATH executive director Greta deMayo said the first step in the multi-decade plan is to get each jurisdiction to build a model project.

“You can’t build 211 miles as one project,” deMayo said. “So this is a long-term implementation that is segmented into phases and will be done with everybody starting their part.”

PATH has experience with this kind of approach.

It describes its Silver Comet Trail, beginning in Smyrna, northeast of Atlanta, as the current record-holder for the longest, continuous paved trail in the United States, at 94 miles when coupled with the 33-mile Chief Ladiga Trail in Alabama.

That project took 16 years from the time that an abandoned rail corridor was acquired for a non-motorized trail until the trail’s final completion in 2008.

Howard encourages cyclists interested in experiencing the potential of the HiLo Trail to sign up for an Athens-to-Savannah ride from Oct. 17 to Oct. 20, 2024.

This article comes to Now Habersham in partnership with GPB News

The Helen Chamber of Commerce will host the 35th Annual Helen Trout Tournament on March 30. The tournament is a fishing event in which anglers of all ages can compete for a share of $4,000 in prizes.

The tournament runs from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the Helen Chamber of Commerce FesHalle, on Edelweiss Strasse. There is a $25 entry fee per angler, which includes a raffle ticket and souvenir tournament tee shirt while supplies last.

Entrants must have a Georgia fishing license and trout stamp. All tournament participants must follow the Georgia Department of Natural Resources (DNR) rules for fishing in the Chattahoochee River in Helen.

The Chamber will stock the river with more than 400 pounds of tagged trout for the tournament. Organizers say the DNR will also stock the Chattahoochee River ahead of the event.

Online registrations will be accepted through March 27. In-person registration will be held on Friday, March 29, and on the morning of the tournament.

For tournament information and registration forms, visit the Helen Chamber of Commerce website or call 706-878-1908.

I made my trip out west with my dad.

He was the one crazy enough to follow me across the country for an eclipse and spend several days in a car and on the trail. Today happens to be his birthday, just a week after I finished recounting our trip in this series. So, this post is a happy birthday post. The phrase “Go West, young man,” could arguably be turned into “Go West, old man” for this one, but I digress.

*insert bad laugh track*

From the outset of the trip, he was game for whatever it, and I, wanted to throw at him. From a trip to In-n-Out in Denver, which he had never heard of, to the snow at 11,000 feet on I-70, he was enjoying it just as much as me.

An early morning rise led to this selfie just after we had seen some mountain goats on the side of the road in the Colorado National Monument.

Later that same day, he managed the nearly 4-mile round trip hike up to Delicate Arch. While there, we saw another young woman dragging her dad around and had to laugh a little.

He even carried around one of my older cameras to get some shots of his own.

Our disastrous night in Farmington would have made plenty of people give up and head home, but not us. We were determined to catch this eclipse, even if it meant sleeping in the car. Fortunately, it didn’t, but we may have been better off in retrospect.

The Continental Divide, at nearly 11,000 feet, is hardly an easy place for a hike, but we did take a short one and had to get a photo with the Wolf Creek Pass sign.

The Sand Dunes proved a very challenging hike, but despite the elevation and difficult hiking conditions (one step forward, two steps back in soft sand), my dad kept on trucking, enjoying the sights.

Luckily, we even ran into his cousin the next day near Pikes Peak, or a statue of him at any rate.

When we finally found ourselves heading back home, he sprung for first-class ticket upgrades making the trip even that much more enjoyable.

So…. thanks. Thanks for following me on a long trip. Thanks for helping keep the feed for the website going when I was trying to do a million things. Thanks for not freaking out when riding in a car at 95 MPH with me.

And most of all thanks for being a great dad, showing me how to never quit or give up even when things get tough. I doubt I would have made it to this point in life without you or the lessons, including those I’m now passing down to my kids.

Happy Birthday, Dad, and here’s to more adventures in the years to come.

At the end of last summer, the family and I were headed into town one evening after sunset. As we passed a hayfield that is home to a camera-shy American Kestrel, I noticed a large group of birds over the field. There was only enough light to tell that they were flying about erratically, catching insects. I did make out some white patches on the wings that I had not personally seen before on birds.

They did not return to the hayfield the next evening; they must have been passing through on a migration.

Researching the ‘mystery bird’

I am not a “birder” with a broad knowledge of bird species, but when I see a well-marked unique stranger, I like to learn what it is. My hope was to see them again someday with better light and a camera in hand so I could identify them.

I am a member of the Facebook group “Georgia Wildlife and Landscape Photography.” We post photos of wildlife and landscapes with the county and date to assist others in knowing when the species may be seen in an area. Several days ago, I was looking through the group’s photo postings and spotted my mystery bird. It had swept-back wings with white wing bars.

I knew positively that it was my mystery bird when I saw the video that the member had also posted of the birds feeding over a sunflower field. The flights of the feeding birds had the same erratic patterns.

The member identified the birds as the Common Nighthawk (Chordeiles minor). I hadn’t recalled seeing this bird before, so I looked it up. My research revealed that they are a medium-sized nocturnal bird of the Nightjar family. This explains why I hadn’t seen them; they feed in very low light. They have large eyes and mouths on their flattened heads to better catch insects in the low light.

Migration

Nighthawks begin their southbound migration in July, headed to Argentina for the winter. During migration, they are commonly seen in the evenings with a “burst of sunset feeding activities.”

This gave me hope that I might see the birds again soon as I knew that it was time again for their migration through North Georgia.

Just a few days later, I had stepped out on the front porch to let the dogs have some time in the front yard after supper and caught a glimpse of what I was sure was a Nighthawk above the house across the road.

They were here! I was sure of it!

I got the dogs back in and quickly changed into my camo. I grabbed my gear and was off on my bike to the hayfield a quarter mile down the road.

As I parked my bike, I began seeing the Nighthawks passing southward overhead in waves that were too high to get good pictures. I was disappointed but went ahead and snapped a couple of shots to confirm their identity. I could zoom in on the images on the camera display and see the white wing bars and flattened heads, definitely Nighthawks.

Camo, quick prayer, and a hayfield

A few more waves of nighthawks passed over as the sun got closer to the horizon, but they were still too high.

Then I noticed a group of a dozen or more drop down below the tops of the trees on the other side of the hayfield. They made a wide turn and came back through the hayfield and began feeding, as I had seen in the video.

I said a quick prayer of thanks to the Lord and headed out into the hayfield.

I was hoping that by being camouflaged and keeping a low profile, I wouldn’t disturb their feeding, and I was correct. The Nighthawks were flying all around me on my knees, sometimes coming within ten feet.

In my haste to get into the hayfield, I had left my spare batteries on the bike, but the one battery was enough to get plenty of images. I hope you enjoy them.

Common Nighthawks over Northeast Georgia

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With the Summer season coming to an end, we start getting some relief from the high temperatures and even begin to enjoy the cool mornings and less humid days here in North Georgia. I hope you’re ready to get out with your camera and join me in getting some memories from your new or established hobby.

I’ll never forget when I took up nature photography some fifteen years ago with the purchase of a Canon “point and shoot” (P&S) S5 IS. I still have that camera, and it still makes great pictures with its limitations.

If you don’t have a camera or are unable to get out, I hope that I can take you along with my narrative and images.

Hooked on butterflies

My Dad raised me hunting and fishing. We have always been hunting buddies. When I traded my rifle in for a camera, he struggled with my decision at first, but when I started having deer and turkey pictures published, he was good with it.

After taking the Georgia Master Naturalist class at Elachee Nature Science Center, my eyes were opened to the many more subjects that were all around us in nature to photograph. Each week they had a visiting instructor who covered “their topic.”

I’ll never forget the sweet elderly couple that were butterfly watchers and photographers. They did a slide show presentation with some great photographs of different butterflies and gave tips for getting the best pictures. I imagined that if they could, they would have a bumper sticker that said, “I brake for Monarchs.”

They loved their butterflies.

It just so happens that the time of year when scouting and hunting for deer is done, the iconic Monarch butterfly is passing through on its migration to the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. They are the only butterflies that make a two-way migration, as many birds do. (I also discovered some really cool spiders when I started noticing them on the webs that I used to dread running into while scouting.)

Son of a gun. On my next hunt with my Dad, I found myself as enthusiastic to get butterfly pictures as deer and turkey.

That couple had me hooked.

Pollinators and photographers

Butterflies are important pollinators along with bees. There are many different butterflies with different shapes. A skipper is a type of butterfly that is shaped like a moth but with thin antennae that are club-ended, distinguishing them from moths that have feathery antennae.

Butterflies have to be warm in order to fly, so they fly during the daylight hours.

Just as in bird photography, you want to achieve focus on the eye nearest to you if possible. There’s something about that connection between the viewer and the subject’s eye that makes the image more appealing and satisfying.

Now, because much of a butterfly’s beauty is on its wing and one plane, geometrically speaking, you will have to move around to get as much area in focus as possible along with the eye.

If lighting allows, increasing the aperture value on the camera will give a greater depth of focus to make this easier.

Be careful as you move to get better focus not to let your shadow fall on them, as sometimes it causes them to take flight.

Most butterflies will fly and loiter around a plant that they are going to land on to probe for nectar. Prefocus on blooms you suspect they will land on and get your exposure settings preset. This will shorten the time to fine-tune and get the exposure when it does land.

You never know when they are off to the next bloom.

It is frustrating when you go to the trouble and they leave the bloom just before you get the shot or move as you take the shot to spoil focus, but that’s part of it. As you repeat the drill more, you will get faster and start having success which makes it worth all the effort.

Watch your step!

Some butterflies, especially the smaller ones, just don’t stay put long at all, and again, the smaller ones seldom open their wings while they are not flying. Those pictures require more patience and are considered a real trophy.

As with the Kite photography in my last column, while pursuing butterflies, it’s easy to lose your bearings while trying to keep your eye on that fluttering subject that can travel 50 to 100 miles a day, believe it or not. Stay aware of your surroundings, and don’t step into traffic or a canyon.

READ MORE FROM JOE

• New nature column coming to Now Habersham
• Flights of Fancy

Before August 2020, if you had mentioned flying kites to me, it would have summoned memories of the windy March days of my childhood, grasping a ball of twine with a paper kite on the other end high in the air.

On that hot August day in 2020, I will never forget, while I was on my way home from work, I came upon a flock of birds that I had only seen a pair of before. This flock of dozens of birds was circling as buzzards do, but they were much smaller than buzzards. And as I observed their flight, I noticed that one would dive down occasionally and then return back up into the pattern. I rushed home to get my camera, but when I returned thirty minutes later, they were gone.

The next day on my commute, I had the same encounter, but this time my loving wife Ginger went to get my camera as I stayed with the flock. So, I got pictures of these mystery birds and discovered two different larger birds feeding with them. They were a two-tone black and white near osprey-sized bird. This pair flew slower and more gracefully than the other smaller birds, the most gracefully flying bird I’ve seen.

From my pictures, I saw that when the birds were diving down and going back into the flight pattern, they were catching large insects and feeding on them in mid-air. I had never seen this before. This also caused me to notice that there was an unusually large number of grasshoppers on the hayfields. The black and white birds were doing graceful aerial acrobatics to get the grasshoppers off of the grass blades.

It was a quick identification of the birds by asking on Facebook: They were Mississippi and Swallow-tailed Kites.

I found pictures of the beautiful Swallow-tailed Kites in an article telling of a farm in south Georgia that welcomed photographers to come when the birds ventured up from Florida.

I put that trip on my bucket list.

Graceful acrobatics

The next summer, I was walking my dogs and noticed at a distance a group of about a dozen large birds doing the “graceful aerial acrobatics” and knew at once that the Lord had blessed me with a visit from Florida.

I rushed home and got my camera to get that item off my bucket list. I got several great pictures but missed many without the skills that a seasoned BIF (“Bird in Flight”) photographer has. The glass (lens) that I had was great, but I needed a more advanced camera body to supplement my skills for this type of photography. I saved for the next year and paid more than I can believe for a full-frame mirrorless camera.

I had my new camera two weeks before the Kite’s arrival last year, and you got to see some of my pictures in a story on Swallow-tailed Kites here on Now Habersham.

For the last four summers, I have enjoyed the visits of the two birds to northeast Georgia that I had mostly only seen on YouTube videos before. Each time I find them, the number of large insects is huge. I learned in the Georgia Master Naturalist class that the birds follow the food. I believe that the climate changes that we have seen in recent years have changed the insect movement patterns and brought us these beautiful visitors.

The Mississippi Kite nesting range reaches into Georgia, most of the southeastern states, and further north along the Mississippi River. In my recent encounters with them, I saw more swift acrobatics, including barrel rolls that would end in a dive, sometimes nearing the ground before pulling up. They add dragonflies to the list of prey, along with grasshoppers and June bugs.

Season winding down

The season is winding down for the year as I write this. If you enjoy the pictures seen here, then plan on getting out in the heat next August and seeing these beautiful birds in flight. It’s a sight to see and never forget.

To know where the birds are located exactly, search for eBird’s “Georgia Rare Bird Alert” website, and you can monitor their progress from Florida to your area. When they get close enough for a day trip, be sure to plan ahead. Take lots of fluids to stay hydrated and sunscreen. Get permission to be on the property, do not trespass. Also, get permission to park your vehicle in a safe location off the road. Many times I wind up on the sides of country roads to get my pictures. Please use caution when you get to the birds. It’s easy to get caught up in the moment of a great shoot and lose your attention to your location near lanes for traffic. Be vigilant not to loiter in the roadway.

If you want to join the photographers, then do your research on “Bird in Flight” photography and buy the best that you can truly afford.

Whatever you do, enjoy the outdoors and thank the good Lord that you live where you can and have good health to do so.

READ MORE about naturalist and new Now Hab columnist Joe Berry

If you happen to be driving through southern Stephens County and see someone camouflaged head to toe walking or riding a totally camouflaged bicycle when there is no open hunting season, you have most likely seen Joe Berry. Armed with his Canon camera rather than a shotgun, he hunts both game and nongame species.

Joe Berry knows what he’s shooting when he hoists that camera to his eye. As a Certified Georgia Master Naturalist, he is knowledgeable about the flora and fauna that surround us.

Joe likes to think of himself as a natural history photographer, photographing everything from black bears to Zebra Swallowtail butterflies. His tools of the trade are his Canon camera, camouflage “everything,” including his Haro mountain bike, Fiskars pruning shears, and snake-proof rubber boots.

He loves to watch the outdoor world wake up in the mornings and be at the right place when the “golden hour” bathes it with the Lord’s perfect lighting.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve been on a beaver pond at the break of dawn when the beautiful Wood Ducks start dropping out of the sky into the water so close that you hear their wings slice through the cool morning air,” says Berry. “I can’t understand how so many can believe that the beauty that I see is the result of a bunch of mutations. I see the work of a master artist. I believe it’s the work of Jesus Christ, the master artist and engineer.”

Joe has placed in several photography competitions and donates images for use to the Elachee Nature Science Center in Oakwood, Georgia. You may have seen some of his pictures used by the Georgia Wildlife Resources Division on their website and FaceBook pages.

The Leon & Rachel Gathany Museum of Natural History at Toccoa Falls College features a slideshow of Joe’s images for visitors to view.

Now, he adds nature writer to his resumé. Now Habersham is delighted to welcome Joe to our team as a featured columnist.

“Joe’s work first captured my attention last year when I did a story on Swallow-tailed Kites that were nesting in the Fairview Community. I found his photographic talent and skill and his knowledge of nature illuminating. I asked if he would share his images and observations with our readers. I’m grateful he agreed,” says Now Habersham publisher Joy Purcell.

Part of the allure of life in Northeast Georgia is its natural beauty: Joe captures it beautifully. He will be sharing his images and keen observations with us here on Now Habersham. We invite you to keep an eye on our website for his monthly column as he offers his unique perspective on the natural beauty and wonders that surround us.

The high country of Western North Carolina is still solidly in the throes of spring wildflower season. The calendar may say June 3, but temperatures dipped into the 30s last week, and afternoon highs are still only reaching the low/mid-70s at the most.

As the weather warms up, the exposed areas continue to see more flowers blooming.

The Catawba Rhododendrons are starting to hit the highest peaks, and the big blooms around Craggy Gardens and Roan Mountain will be going soon.

These brilliant pink and purple flowers are one of my favorites, and I’ve seen plenty this season so far. The recent cold snap had some effects on the blooms, but there have still been plenty to see.

These warmer days also mean afternoon thunderstorms, making it a great time to catch sun rays breaking through the clouds.

Next up on our high-elevation flower list is mountain laurels which have really taken off this week.

I captured probably my favorite image of the season so far this past Friday of some just starting to bloom out.

If you are looking for the best time to pay a visit to the nearby high peaks of western North Carolina, now is definitely the time.

Have a great week! I’ll see you on the trail…