Recently, I was shooting in the Grand Teton National Park at one of the most popular photo locations in the park, Oxbow Bend. Where the mirrored surface of the Snake River reflects a spectacular autumn display and magnificent Mt. Moran, is probably the most photographed location in Wyoming, if not the country. On this particular day, Oxbow Bend was living up to its well–deserved reputation. At least fifty photographers were lined up shoulder to shoulder to capture a truly spectacular shot. I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to follow the crowd and shoot another typical Oxbow Bend photo. But in spite of my promise not to join this melee of lenses and tripods, the scene was too incredible and my resolve evaporated. Finding a gap in the line, I shouldered my way in. It’s been my experience that a group of photographers crowded together in a common effort is a pretty friendly crowd. This one was no exception. There was plenty of light banter and laughter between shutter clicks and the whine of motor drives.

But in an instant that all changed. Fishermen in an oar–powered dory, gliding along the far bank, crept slowly into view around the point. For me, it took only a second to realize that here was a new element in a setting that is typically photographed the same way by every photographer with little imagination or creativity. I jumped to my camera and began clicking away. In my excitement, I hadn’t even thought about what the ripples would do to the water’s mirror surface. But I was quickly reminded when several photographers began to yell at the boat that he was ruining their shots—and some of the shouts were none too kind.

I was appalled that any photographer would be so rude as to yell at others enjoying their chosen activity in a national park. I have never even heard of such a thing before. The fishermen were legitimately seeking their own form of recreation on the river and had as much right to be there as the photographers. It has always been my belief that as a nature photographer, that my greatest asset is the ability to adapt to the conditions that are presented. Sometimes this means dealing with less than ideal weather or lighting. Sometimes it means dealing with other people who wander into my shot. If they were close to the camera, I would politely ask them to step out of my shot for a few seconds and I usually receive a courteous response to my request. But I have never heard of a photographer reproaching other people because their activity was interfering with a shot.

At first, I assumed that the rude photographers were amateurs for surely no professional photographer would be so insolent. But then I realized that it didn’t excuse their actions. Common courtesy is not restricted to professionals.

Apparently some photographers believe that they have the exclusive right to claim acres, or even square miles, of scenery as their personal space while they’re shooting. I don’t agree with this attitude. I don’t think that anyone has the right to claim the wilderness as their own personal space. By the very photos that we take, we are promoting the great outdoors, encouraging people to use and respect the wilderness. For us to then verbally abuse people for enjoying the wilderness in appropriate activities is incredibly selfish and hypocritical. Not only does it speak poorly for the individual(s) involved but it also speaks poorly for nature photographers in general.

I realize that we live in a time when our society is focused on “me.” But in a crowded world, it is essential that we allow room for others. The world is simply too crowded for just “me.” All park visitors have the same right as photographers to pursue their preferred activities. And they should be granted the same courtesy that we expect from them.

What this incident points out to me, that is even more distressing, is that so many photographers lack the creative vision to see an image for themselves. They’re vision appears to be limited to images that they have already seen. As a nature photographer I take pride in my ability to “find the images” hidden in the wilderness, images that have never been seen before. Rarely are the images that I find the ones that I expected to find, but therein lies the joy of discovery. It is the unexpected images that I value the most.

I have seen other “photographers” literally set up their tripod in the prints of a professional photographer’s tripod so they can shoot the same shot that he just shot. Recognizing that mimicry is a form a flattery, I just shake my head. If mimicry is the goal that a person strives for, that is their choice. But if something prevents them from achieving that goal, well, that is the challenge that they must face to achieve their goal. All goals, whether it is capturing a unique image or mimicking another image, have their own challenges. The true measure of a photographer is his ability to capture the image while handling the challenges with grace and decorum.

The wilderness lands in this country have been set aside for all to enjoy. There is more than enough for all to enjoy. So, enjoy it. Photograph it. Practice a little western hospitality and allow others to enjoy it. And most of all, protect it so that our children’s children may also enjoy it.