Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge, Part I

Once the fog had lifted (somewhat) on the morning of my Cape Cod photo shoot, I switched from my wide-angle lens to my zoom lens and began the search for wildlife subjects in earnest.  Oddly, what I initially found to shoot all turned out to be inanimate.  That was probably a good thing, because the fog hadn't really "lifted" so much as given way to skies that could be better classified as "overcast."  So my light was a little low and quite flat, two factors I struggle with when trying to take pictures of things that move.

One of my favorite things about shooting in an unfamiliar location is how excited I get about things that are probably pretty commonplace and I just don't know it.  Like when I saw this horseshoe crab shell, I was captivated by it.

Then I saw another one, and thought it was also pretty cool.

Then another, and by now I was doing things like getting flat on my belly to change the perspective.

Then a tiny one ...

... and then one I thought might actually still have a living inhabitant.  But it didn't.  Nevertheless, I thought they were all compelling!  After two more visits, I'd probably be ignoring them all.

When it wasn't crab husks, it was these little mussel sculptures.  Each seemed like a little natural work of art.

These odd bundles were seriously like snowflakes or fingerprints; no two were alike.

Honestly, I have no idea what holds these tiny collections together.  What sort of strange invisible marine glue binds rocks, shells, and seaweed?

Speaking of art in nature, spirals are amazing.  Whether in ram horns or shark eye shells, the fact that this pattern just occurs all on its own is as much evidence of the existence of God to me as the breathtaking mountain vistas of Colorado.  It's not the shapes or scenes themselves; it's what they do to my heart.

Next up, subjects that actually move!