There is no greater solace than that of the forest. Whether miles away from the world of the “civilized” or a hundred yards or so from my own backdoor, the Big Thicket, a diverse ecological wonderland in the darkest regions of southeast Texas, always sang its songs in perfect harmony with the very essence of my soul. Though societal obligations impeded heavily upon my ambitions as a freelance conservationist/explorer, I was fortunate enough to have had a family that shared my conviction and passion for the plundered patch of wilderness I was so blessed to be born within, and to be able to devote much of my free time traversing the wilds capturing photos of the rarities and oddities seldomly seen. It was my last true freedom. A literal breath of fresh air. And a stark contrast to the concrete jungle my occupation at the chemical refineries along the gulf coast forced me into. A few days of off time, before I was to begin a new project that would consume my life for 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, well into late spring, would give me ample time to probe the depths of a largely unknown pocket of wildness before the humidity could blanket the South with its suffocating bulk. Though sporadic weekend weather hindered the advancement of my originally planned expedition, I was eager and determined to catch a glimpse of something majestic. And so it went that just before daybreak on a chilly Monday morning, I ventured out to, unknowingly, meet my demise.


© Doug Krell