A Podcast About Wildlife, Family, Sharks, and the Road That Led Here

Recently I had the opportunity to sit down with the Rio Grande Podcast, a podcast based right here in my home here in South Texas.

It was a fun conversation because it wasn't really about a single trip, a single animal, or even a single photograph.

It was about the journey.

We talked about how this whole thing began.

We talked about sharks, wildlife photography, family, conservation, and some of the incredible animals I've been fortunate enough to share time with over the years.

But more than anything, we talked about the moments.

The moments that change you.

The moments that remind you why you started.

The moments that keep you getting back on airplanes, boats, and dusty roads even after thousands of miles and countless adventures.

We also spent some time talking about family and the role they have played in all of this. Anyone who has followed our adventures knows that none of this happens alone. Every expedition, every story, every success has been built with the support of family, friends, guides, guests, and countless people I've met along the way.

One of the things I enjoyed most about the conversation was the opportunity to look back.

Most of the time I'm focused on the next trip, the next animal, the next story.

Rarely do I stop and think about the path that led here.

The truth is, I've been lucky.

Lucky enough to spend my life around wildlife.

Lucky enough to turn a passion into a career.

Lucky enough to share these experiences with people from all over the world.

And lucky enough to call South Texas home.

If you'd like to hear the full conversation, I hope you'll take some time to listen.

It's a conversation about wildlife.

But it's also a conversation about life.

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You can listen to the podcast HERE.

Or

Watch the interview on Youtube.

When a Chimp Outsmarted Us!

We were following a chimpanzee through the forest, moving quietly as it walked with purpose. 

For a while, it felt like it was letting us tag along, stopping, listening, glancing back every so often. 

But at some point, everything changed.

The chimp took a turn downhill, leading us onto a trail that grew narrower and narrower until it finally disappeared altogether. 

Before we knew it, we were surrounded by thick and deep mud.

It was thick, sticky, elephant-made sludge that sucked at our boots and made every step an effort.

I swear that chimp did it on purpose. 

There were easier trails all around, but it chose this one, the kind that only a clever ape with a sense of humor would pick. 

I could almost picture it now, perched in a nearby tree, watching the clumsy humans struggle in the muck, probably shaking its head.

The mud, we learned, was created by forest elephants trudging through after heavy rains. 

It reminded me of those old TV shows from childhood where quicksand was always waiting to swallow the hero, except this was real, smelled awful, and didn’t let go easily.

One of our group, Kimberly sank in up to her thighs. When the guides finally managed to pull her free, her boot stayed behind. 

Her daughters howled with laughter as we all tried to help, slipping and sliding in the muddy trail.

By the time we made it out, the chimp was long gone. 

It took a while to track them down again, but we eventually did, a little muddier, a little wiser, and a lot more respectful of just how clever they are.

Sometimes, the wild reminds you who’s really in charge, and every now and then, it even has a sense of humor about it.