Bozeman, Montana – Pre-Hunt’s Photo Adventure with Trish
Trish and I flew out a few days before our Hunt’s Photo Adventure to enjoy a little Big Sky time. The plan was simple: relax, explore, and maybe—just maybe—start the trip without me sprinting after wildlife before breakfast.
Spoiler alert: that lasted about nine minutes.
As usual, I was wandering around the hotel parking lot with my camera when I saw it—this gorgeous black-and-white bird with iridescent blue wings that shimmered like polished turquoise under Montana sunlight. It soared across the lot like a show-off at an airshow.
It was magnificent. Elegant. Dignified.
And naturally, I shouted, “MAGPIE!” loud enough to startle several guests loading luggage into their Subarus.
I was instantly hooked. Those colors! That tail! That flight pattern that looked like someone rowing through the sky! I had to photograph one. So I did what any self-respecting wildlife photographer would do: I marched into the hotel lobby, dripping enthusiasm, and asked the desk clerk where I could find more magpies.
They exchanged glances that said, “Oh boy, another tourist who’s never seen a pigeon with better marketing.”
Turns out, magpies are everywhere. To Montanans, they’re the feathered equivalent of that one relative who shows up uninvited and never leaves.
But beauty, my friends, is in the eye of the obsessed.
We planned a little reconnaissance trip around town—parks, trails, maybe a nice brunch with a side of bird stalking. I envisioned that perfect National Geographic moment: the magpie, wings extended, mountains in the background, light cascading like divine approval.
Reality check: the only magpie I photographed was back at the hotel.
I was mid-Uber-summon on my phone when Trish casually said, “Honey, isn’t that the bird?”
It was.
Right there. In a pine tree.
Mocking me.
After all that planning, research, and earnest fieldwork, the best magpie shot I got came from twenty feet outside the hotel entrance.
So much for reconnaissance.
Sometimes the universe whispers, “Don’t overthink it.”
Other times it screams, “Put the map down, Einstein—the bird’s right there.”
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