Foggy mornings hold a special allure in the south texas wildlands. Richard Moore takes us out into the ranch country where you never quite know what might emerge from the cloaking mist.
There is something magical about fog-shrouded dawn evoking ethereal promise of what might emerge from swirling mist.
Mesquite trees hover over a remote ranch country lake, their spectral reflections mirrored in the placid surface.
Distant windmill looms silent in morning haze, a perfect perch for the sentinels of death, a foursome of vultures.
A pair of whitetail deer warily appear as ghostly apparitions in the cloaking fog and abruptly vanish into the mist with whitetails raised in alarm.
High atop a gnarled mesquite limb, a white-tailed hawk watches fleeing deer from its lofty perch. While nearby, a caracara and kestrel join the foggy vigil.
A javelina stands motionless in the mist, silently soaking in every sound and scent, prepared to scamper away if necessary.
Expectation hovers in the haze as to what next will be unveiled, as a handsome buck swivels his head spotting something in the murky distance.
As sun climbs above ancient mesquites, glowing orb begins to dissipate stubborn fog revealing a lone whitetail deer slipping across the sandy sendero.
Rising sun casts a warm reflection on tranquil water, as a great blue heron flies languidly from lifting haze before disappearing.
With the sun’s gradual emergence, vultures begin stretching their wings, drying them in warming rays before soaring morning flight.
As sunlight vanquishes lingering fog, a regal whitetail buck proudly surveys his domain. Acute senses keenly focus on distant movement, and soon he ambles off in confident pursuit of a doe.
The fog-shrouded dawn that evoked such ethereal promise held true with much revealed in swirling mist and morning’s first light.