... In Indonesia, I shot a Sumatran Tiger as it glided silently through the jungle. It flashed orange, yellow and black against the overwhelming green. I was downwind; it never caught so much as a whiff. Neither did it see nor hear me. Iím a ghost, a phantom.
... Sunset on the Sonora Desert, the sky was violet and deep rust, the color of dried blood. I nailed a lone Mexican Wolf as it began its nightly prowl. It reminded me of a German shepherd save for the unique way it loped across the scrub land ... that and the feral look in its eyes.
... I hiked the sere slopes of Haleakal‚. Below me, and off in the limitless distance, Kahoíolawe was an uncut emerald strewn carelessly on a swatch of cerulean corduroy. A NÁnÁ Goose guarding its nest amid the lava and the Silversword never had a chance.
Iím good ... no, Iím great. I have a battery of weapons at my disposal and the skill and experience to use them. Each item in my arsenal is an extension of my hand, my eyes. I never miss a shot. Me and my Nikon!
submitted at 3:45pm
25 May 2009
James has published over 100 stories both in print as well as on the Internet. Visit: