58 Nebraskaland • March 2024
THE LAST STOP
Hairy four o'clock plant in bloom. GERRY STEINAUER
By Gerry Steinauer
THE MISSING MEMORY CARD
Like other nature photographers, I often return to a prairie
or woodland for another round of photographs. Sometimes it
is because Mother Nature does not cooperate — the light is
bad or it is too windy to take close-up photos. Other times, the
subjects do not cooperate. They won't sit still, or I'm unable
to creep close enough. Lastly, I occasionally do something
that is mechanically boneheaded with my camera that
results in poor photos or no photos at all. The latter happened
last June.
Dawn broke on the fi nal day of my visit to a Sandhills
ranch with ideal conditions for plant photography: warm
sunlight, little wind and vegetation cloaked in dew. I was
excited, maybe too excited. I grabbed my camera and rushed
out the door and up a nearby prairie-covered dune in search
of photographic opportunities. Soon, low on the dune, I
found a hairy four o'clock in full bloom. I had never before
photographed this uncommon wildfl ower.
I captured images of the plant for about 10 minutes and,
satisfi ed, moved on. Over the next hour or so, I climbed over
that dune and to the crest of the next, occasionally stopping
to photograph other fl owers. Perched on the hilltop, I was
ready to call it quits and decided to scroll through the photos
and view my morning's work.
I was shocked to fi nd there were no photos — because there
was no memory card in the camera.
Spewing a few cuss words, I quickly realized I did not
replace the card the last time I downloaded photos from my
camera to the computer. In my rush that morning, I forgot to
check the camera to make sure it contained a memory card.
I hate to admit it, but this was not the fi rst time this has
happened.
Most gut wrenching was the fact that my cherished hairy
four o'clock photos were now nonexistent. I needed to reshoot
the photos, but the sun was rising fast, the light quickly
losing its warm tone. If I did not hurry, the photos would be
washed out. It was at least a quarter mile back to the plant
and one big question remained: Could I fi nd it in this sea of
grass?
I pulled a memory card from my bag, popped it into the
camera and started hoofi ng it. Luckily, when I returned to the
vicinity of the four o'clock, I was able to follow my footsteps
through the still-dewy grass back to the plant. My new
photos turned out fi ne.
A photographer should feel no shame in having to return to
a site and recapture photographs. Stuff happens. It is part of
the game. But to forget a memory card? C'mon.
