It should have been just a couple of days of nature guiding, but because of the amount of things to see and the pleasantness of the participants it ended in a full week... full of wildlife, photos and high spirits. I'm talking of the visit paid me by the Marche section of AFNI (Italian Nature Photographers Association) here in Särna at the beginning of June. You can see some memories from the Family Album. Here it is now a selection of pictures they kindly shared with me to be in the Chronicles. Let's start with some landscapes... ...and let's finish with some animals.
Januarys is gone, as one endless grey day, and gave us a single sunny day; during which, however, I met a large herd of reindeer just north of Särna, an area where they use to move in this season to graze in the forest, digging in the snow with their hooves to get to the vegetation on the ground. Above, an odd attitude showing a characteristic posture of this deer, whose “bell” shape ends with wide and flexible hooves, sort of snowshoes allowing an easy moving on snowy ground; one of their many amazing adaptations to the extreme climate of the North. However - like all animals, this season – they prefer to walk on a cleared road when they meet one: it is just so much more comfortable...
Few days ago in the flooded forest of Göljån: lynx's footprints, not older than a handful of hours. This gives me the opportunity to narrate an “almost” close encounter with the big cat of the subject, few years ago, in the very same location. I was there to photograph a dipper which was hanging out along one the several creeks crossing the wood devastated by the great flooding from 1997; by the way, exactly the one, frozen, in the picture here. To get there, you have to walk on a narrow wooden boardwalk. I was a twenty meters from it, bent on the tripod and focused on the dipper coming and going on a fallen tree not so far. After just ten minutes I picked up my gear and was heading to my car: on the boardwalk, well clear and obvious on the dry wood, a very fresh track of linx's wet footprints was there, and it wasn't there before. To make it short, a lynx passed by my back, just 20 meters from me and in open sight, while I was staring exactly at the opposite direction. Ever since, inevitably, everytime I recall that moment, with a bitter smile the old commercial I embed here below comes to my mind. At the end of September two Italian photographers came here for a vacation, and stayed one week at our hostel; guests for the first time, then, in the term's classical meaning. Nature and outdoor enthusiasts as they are, they got things going in the right way, exploring the territory without sparing any energy, following the hints by yours truly. This way they have been able to enjoy most of the beauty of these latitudes' autumn, albeit a weakening one. I am glad to give visibility to their passion and niceness devoting this post to a gallery made with a selection of the pictures they made here around: thereby, they are guests a second time. At the same time it's a way to show what results the commitment and a correct approach could produce – from a wildlife standpoint – even in such a short period of time, and not in the very best season, at least for the animals.
Ladies and Gentlemen I give you, in strict alphabetical order, the dynamic duo Perlino & Pons (Luca and Massimiliano respectively), whom I thank here for the helpfulness. By the way, the Chronicles are today passing the milestone of 400 pictures, since May 2007. First time I met them it was 40 years ago, in the pages of an illustrated book for kids, whose cover said "Watch and discover the animals of the Arctic." Drawings that fascinated me with stories of strange and exotic wildlife, which are still there in the man I am today, since the memory is there, fresh as the excitement and awe in all the encounters with animals which, ever since, happened in my life. The lemming, the only exclusive animal for the Scandinavian fauna, so known but for the wrong reasons, so misunderstood by the most superficial popularization... I see it for the first time three years ago, here on the slopes of Mount Fulufjället, my “backyard” national park. An individual quickly disappeared, the vision of a moment, but a moment to remember, the realization of a dream started long time ago. What I always missed, so far, was the mythical "year of the lemming", when happens one of those population explosions typical for many species of rodents; for the lemming it has become what defines the species itself in the popular knowledge. Multiplied beyond the capacity of their environment to sustain them (it can litter up to 6 times a year, with up to 13 cubs which are sexually mature after one month), the animals crowd the tundra and migrate to the valleys and forests in search of food, invading areas that aren't their, and crossing, or trying to do so, any obstacle in their path. Rivers and lakes included, if necessary (and it certainly is, in the North). From these migrations the myth was born - that's what it is, since there are no direct observations of the phenomenon reported in literature – about thousands of lemmings which knowingly and in lovely synchrony are killing themselves diving into the sea. A myth fed by an old Disney documentary, artificial and misleading as they were many in the early 60s. And we are nowadays at a point where "lemming" became synonym for conformist, individual with no personality, even a bit stupid. The lemmings, the true ones, are quite different: individualistic, hyperactive and quick (as much as a vole can be), so aggressive for self-defence to threaten men and even cars gnashing their teeth and hissing angrily. And it's true: they die in thousands, but under the tyres of those very cars.
I still have that book, now that I can just step through my door and meet in person "animals of the Arctic.", now that I finally met a lemming year. It is the only volume that I've kept for so long; I'm not particularly attached to the memories or to the past, but those pages are like a thread that connects the kid I was to my present time here in Scandinavia. The omen of a fate to come, or, more likely, a part of what helped to shape it. Roe deer is widespread in the forest areas; the graceful animals come to the villages at night, especially in winter, and therefore they are a quite familiar presence. Nevertheless, it is not common to spot them: in general you must be pleased to find their footprints left in the snowy gardens. People here make hay and specific feed (sold in the town) available to help them overcoming the coldest times, but I'm beginning to think that it doesn't only depend on the generosity and love for animals typical of Swedes, but also on the attempt to protect those who, in a few months, will become desired game animals. As much as it may seem strange, especially to a vegetarian like me, here the two things go hand in hand.
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All site contents are: © Vitantonio Dell'Orto, all rights reserved worldwide. The Chronicles of Särna, and other stories from the North.
I live in Sweden, in Särna (Dalarna). The Chronicles are a photo diary about the nature (but not just) here around and from all the Scandinavian areas where my photo job takes me.
My book: "My Sweden - Tales from an Italian photographer in the North" is available in the bookstores and by the publisher.
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