#watershedstories

Instagram photos and videos

#watershedstories#adryseason#wildcountry#natgeo#photographers#writers#rivers#Repost#explorer#archaeology#oceans#easterisland#rapanui#polynesian#moai#captaincook#science#myth#scuba#engineering#outback#sunbear#new_haiga#backwoods#bears#bearsofinstagram#littlebuffaloriver#carving#arkansas#ozarks#mysaintpaul

Hashtags #watershedstories for Instagram

#repost from @natgeo
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those rushed raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

— At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those rushed raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those rushed raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


747

Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those rushed raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those rushed raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


51

Our latest Enews just came out and we spin some good yarns in the content. Check it out with our profile link! -
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#stayinformed #goodtoknow #conservationnews #signuptoday #madisonwatershed #landstewardship #soilandwaterconservation #localconservation #spinningyarns #watershedstories @elizaphoto406


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Finally Watershed story... for this part of the campaign. Between Mercy & Red I’d say I have the perfect arsenal for the journeys! #watershedstories #mercy #honkyred


3

What a great day for #watershedstories with #MadisonStreamTeam members Ron and Larry, captured by the talented @elizaphoto406. Stay tuned for the final products showcasing the success of #localconservation in the #madisonvalley. -
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#madisonwatershed #moorescreek #citizenscience #streammonitoring #watershedwork #fieldwork #healthystreams #conservationcommunity #madisonconservationdistrict


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It’s a Madison moment this fine morning #watershedstories #mercy


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Got #slightlystoopid in between my focus time #watershedstories #boogietherapy #mercy


3

Grass is so tall it’s growing through the picnic table #watershedstories #ontheroadagain


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My 3-legged fe-nine walking the tight rope #watershedstories #tripodsofinstagram #mercy #ontheroadagain


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Goodbye sun... another wonderful day with you! #watershedstories #mercy


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Spent the morning talking about our Big Sky heritage with a very knowledgeable man of a homesteading family near Dillon & how he hopes efforts today with their watershed will be handed down to the future lovers of the valley & the Beaverhead #watershedstories #ontheroadagain #photograherlife


1

A most lovely evening along the Beaverhead #watershedstories #mercy #ontheroadagain #photographerlife


1

Bring your umbrellas and rain gear, @mnwaterfest is starting at 11am! We have over 30 exhibitors inside the Pavilion and over 50 tables outside. Don’t let a gloomy day ruin your fun, let’s celebrate in the rain! Schedule of events link in bio.

#waterfest #mnwaterfest #followtheflow #2018waterparade #waterfestisthebest #educateyourkids #funinthesun #educateyourself #canoe #canoeing #lakephalen #boatparade #lakephalenmn #freecommunityevents #freecommunityevent #watershedstories #watersheds #waterparade #nature #mysaintpaul #watershed #kayaking #petfriendly #volunteers #volunteering #outdoors #stpaul #minnesota #fishing #rainorshine


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It starts at a freshwater lake: warm, still, nutrient-rich from agricultural run-off—>a cyanbacterium, Microcystis, source of a potent bio-toxin, thrives —>Microcystis follows the flow from lake to stream to river to sea—Monterey Bay—>it is taken up by the filter feeders of the bay: mussels and clams—>which are eaten by a sea otter—> and the sea otter dies. What happens on land does not always stay on land. Land and sea are connected and the health of one is linked to the other. Read more about this land to sea connection at https://news.ucsc.edu/2010/09/otter-toxin.html


2

Nature at your fingertips.
Record your observations, share with fellow naturalists and join the discussion!
This year we are identifying organisms at one of our exhibitor booths with the iNaturalist app! Download it today and come prepared.

#waterfest #mnwaterfest #followtheflow #2018waterparade #waterfestisthebest #educateyourkids #funinthesun #educateyourself #canoe #canoeing #lakephalen #boatparade #lakephalenmn #freecommunityevents #freecommunityevent #watershedstories #watersheds #waterparade #nature #mysaintpaul #kayaking #petfriendly #volunteers #volunteering #outdoors #stpaul #minnesota #fishing #education #inaturalist


0

Join us on Saturday, June 2nd from 11am-4pm and experience water activities on Lake Phalen or just watch from afar!
This year we will feature a non-motorized boat parade to kick off the event! DM us if you want to take part!

#waterfest #mnwaterfest #followtheflow #2018waterparade #waterfestisthebest #educateyourkids #funinthesun #educateyourself #canoe #canoeing #lakephalen #boatparade #lakephalenmn #freecommunityevents #freecommunityevent #watershedstories #watersheds #waterparade #nature #mysaintpaul #watershed #kayaking #petfriendly #volunteers #volunteering #outdoors #stpaul #minnesota #fishing #landof10000lakes #mysaintpaul


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photos by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — At that time of year the water ran high and from a boat you could spot trails made by gravid females as they hauled themselves up the riverbank to scratch nests in fresh mud. If you were daring or hungry or poor enough, the nests waited like prizes at the tops of those raw slick ruts—caches filled with 40, 50, 60 eggs, each a tiny universe of salt and protein. The best hunters worked in teams. Some of the boys dug into the nest while others watched for mother, who might return at any moment. It was hard to imagine, during those raids, the one-ton potential of the creatures curled inside the eggs—to imagine those baby crocs hatching and growing huge on a diet of dogs and barramundi, haunting the rivers for a century. Easier to just fill a bucket and trade them in at a croc farm for a few bucks. Anyway you’d never see how they turned out—flensed and stretched into belts. You’d never wear the expensive boots made from bellies and tails. Hunger was your outfit, and so you scooped out the eggs and let the cash warm your pocket for a while. The rest of us, having forgotten the ancient nightmare—the one about being eaten alive—watch from safe distance. We stay in the boat, daydreaming of close calls, Crocodile Dundee and animal welfare. Not needing to risk all for an egg, we pay for reminders of how often we ended up lunch.

#australia #topend #northernterritory #outback #bush #outback #adelaideriver #saltwatercrocodile #crocodile #barramundi #rivers #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


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photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


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#Repost @natgeo (@get_repost)
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

#Repost @natgeo
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.
#Repost @natgeo photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 #expatintheuae


1

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

#chile #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories #remulon

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


35

📷 @randyolson | words by @neilshea13
When you arrive to Easter Island and if you listen closely the locals will tell you that the big statues, the moai, walked to their places without human help—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills and set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or planted themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story, though you may already be trained to disregard it. In that case archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who pushed, tipped, and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape and wrestled them into position. This too is a good story. So, which will it be? Magic or data? Faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into an ancient world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. Take your time deciding. There’s really no wrong answer. The mysteries of Rapa Nui will be preserved. In the meantime I feel compelled to mention that this particular moai is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete, dumped into the sea not that long ago for the benefit of scuba divers. I’m sorry, I wanted it to be real, too. The idea that this one, alone, walked out beyond the others.

#easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories @thephotosociety @natgeocreative

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.

via @thephotosociety


1

Photos by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — When you arrive to Easter Island and if you listen closely the locals will tell you that the big statues, the moai, walked to their places without human help—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills and set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or planted themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story, though you may already be trained to disregard it. In that case archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who pushed, tipped, and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape and wrestled them into position. This too is a good story. So, which will it be? Magic or data? Faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into an ancient world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. Take your time deciding. There’s really no wrong answer. The mysteries of Rapa Nui will be preserved. In the meantime I feel compelled to mention that this particular moai is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete, dumped into the sea not that long ago for the benefit of scuba divers. I’m sorry, I wanted it to be real, too. The idea that this one, alone, walked out beyond the others.

#easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories @thephotosociety @natgeocreative

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning


88

🗿WOW🔔

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland.

It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children.

This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete.

Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning. В


3

#Repost @natgeo with @get_repost
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

Linda história! ❤️
Lindo modo de contar a história ❤️ #Repost @natgeo (@get_repost)
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — When you arrive to Easter Island and if you listen closely the locals will tell you that the big statues, the moai, walked to their places without human help—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills and set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or planted themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story, though you may already be trained to disregard it. In that case archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who pushed, tipped, and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape and wrestled them into position. This too is a good story. So, which will it be? Magic or data? Faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into an ancient world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. Take your time deciding. There’s really no wrong answer. The mysteries of Rapa Nui will be preserved. In the meantime I feel compelled to mention that this particular moai is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete, dumped into the sea not that long ago for the benefit of scuba divers. I’m sorry, I wanted it to be real, too. The idea that this one, alone, walked out beyond the others.

#easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories @thephotosociety @natgeocreative

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


2

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Listen to locals on Easter Island and they’ll tell you the big statues once walked—loped out of the quarry and over the treeless hills to set themselves up on dark stone pedestals near the shore or plant themselves, backs to the sea, farther inland. It’s a good story and true, but if it does not answer your questions then archaeologists will offer another, one of earthly forces, friction and gravity, ropes and logs. Teams of men and maybe women who tipped, wobbled and pulled nearly 900 moai across the landscape to anchor the sky to earth and the ancestors to their children. This also is a good, true story. So, which will it be? Magic or data, faith or muscle? Both have their attractions. Both deliver you into a world that Europeans glimpsed only for a moment before it vanished. You could choose the middle ground, somewhere between a stroll and a drag, but these days almost nobody lasts very long in there. Take your time deciding, then. There’s really no wrong answer. In the meantime, I feel compelled to mention that this moai—sunken, surrounded by divers—is fake. Yeah. It’s concrete. Cast onshore and then dumped, not so long ago, into the sea. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be real, too—this figure, alone, walking out beyond the others. It would have been the best story of all.

@thephotosociety @natgeocreative #easterisland #rapanui #polynesian #moai #captaincook #oceans #science #myth #archaeology #carving #engineering #wildcountry #explorer #scuba #natgeo #photographers #writers #adryseason #watershedstories

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


2,378

Photos by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Cocoa down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Cocoa was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Cocoa, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Cocoa ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Cocoa finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @natgeo @natgeocreative

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


175

#Repost @natgeo (@get_repost)
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Coco down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Coco was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Coco, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Coco ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Coco finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

#Repost @natgeo (@get_repost)
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Coco down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Coco was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Coco, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Coco ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Coco finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

@natgeo photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Coco down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Coco was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Coco, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Coco ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Coco finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Cocoa down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Cocoa was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Cocoa, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Cocoa ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Cocoa finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

#Repost from @natgeo by @quicksave.app
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Cocoa down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Cocoa was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Cocoa, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Cocoa ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Cocoa finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning. #InstaSaveApp #QuickSaveApp


2

#mood of the day
#Repost @natgeo
• • •
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Cocoa down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Cocoa was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Cocoa, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Cocoa ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Cocoa finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


0

From @natgeo:
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Cocoa down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Cocoa was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Cocoa, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Cocoa ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Cocoa finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


1

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Coco down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, the neighbors said, awful things, and so Coco was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Coco, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Coco ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Coco finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods #explorer #natgeo #photographers #writers

Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


193

photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Larry said he did it all the time, walked Coco down a path behind the general store to the river and let him play. Nobody paid much mind. Normal to hear them crashing through the water, wrestling, like brothers. The guy who’d owned the store previously kept pit bulls, loud and mean, awful things, and so Coco was an improvement even if people had never seen such a creature before in the Ozarks. Larry called him a cinnamon bear, though the chest stripe suggested a land far more exotic, and in the mornings you’d find him sitting on the bench swing outside the store, straight-backed, folded paws, just another customer waiting for Larry to open shop. Imagine that—You come over early looking for coffee and find Coco, silent and watchful, like you hadn’t yet come all the way up from a dream. Larry kept him on a chain most of the time and used the stick not for hurting but for guiding. Suggesting. Keeping a little distance. On this day, though, the play turned bad and Coco ended up on top of Larry, pinning him to the bottom of the Little Buffalo, watching his air go. It was a great game—all those bubbles, the little arms flailing, the lousy stick floating downstream. When Coco finally let off, Larry slowly rose and stood there in the water, half-drowned and drooling. Eventually the two dripped back toward shore. There were chores ahead, customers waiting. Day was getting hot. Who knows what had passed between them or where things went from there.

#arkansas #ozarks #littlebuffaloriver #bears #sunbear #bearsofinstagram #rivers #adryseason #watershedstories #new_haiga #wildcountry #backwoods @thephotosociety
Part of a series exploring the small stories that surround and connect us, and how we stumble through them—capturing, missing, and making meaning.


5,044

#saskatchewan association of Watershed’s #conference officially started @swiftcurrent @livingskycasino notice stage left #sticksout #humboldtstrong #watershedstories


0

#Repost @running_stream_proj
・・・
#Waterstory 6 - #Silent #Scream
The only thing her silent eyes asked me - Lost youth and the struggles of lost aspirations, Is Water really so costly ? 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️
For what could have been a time to play, learn and move ahead in life - it is nothing but a time of #backbreaking round trips fetching #water for millions of #younggirls in #India.
What a heavy price to pay for something you always took #forgranted behind the comforts of your screen🚰
#watershedstories #aquastories #lostyouth #artproject #runningstream #publichealth #disaster #photoproject #indianphotography #photographers_of_india #unicef #wakeupcall


0

#Waterstory 6 - #Silent #Scream
The only thing her silent eyes asked me - Lost youth and the struggles of lost aspirations, Is Water really so costly ? 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️
For what could have been a time to play, learn and move ahead in life - it is nothing but a time of #backbreaking round trips fetching #water for millions of #younggirls in #India.
What a heavy price to pay for something you always took #forgranted behind the comforts of your screen🚰
#watershedstories #aquastories #lostyouth #artproject #runningstream #publichealth #disaster #photoproject #indianphotography #photographers_of_india #unicef #wakeupcall


3

Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#Repost @thephotosociety
・・・
#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason @thephotosociety @natgeocreative


0

#repost from @randyolson
words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason @thephotosociety @natgeocreative
Reposted in @gridsapp


0

So officially making the #baby #project #public after it has taken some shape.❤️❤️
Hopefully many more #stories of #endurance and #inspiration would follow suit at @running_stream_proj , as we trudge along these exciting, uncharted #waters , literally so !!
#Staytuned #spreadtheword and also share stories with #runningstreamproject , we would love to feature them !! 😘😘👍🤛
Do it for you care about #water , but do it for the #children of #future if you MUST.
#waterstories #watershedstories #petproject #photoproject #humanstories #climatechange #artinnature #travelandtell


1

'No man ever steps in the same #river twice. For it is not the same river. And He is not the same Man.' ~ Heraclitus (535-475 BCE)
〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ #waterstory 4
P.C - @niharikasingh07
Located between the #tribal belt of #Rampachhodavaram and #marredumilli in East Godavari, #andhrapradesh,
the 645.11 M.Cft #bhupathipalem reservoir has been a saviour source of #water for more than 31 villages of humble tribals in Gangavaram, where many have succumbed to #waterborne #diseases👇
http://www.indialivetoday.com/rampachodavaram-village-vary-water-borne-diseases-tribals-remain-isolated-east-godavari-district/172454.html
#waterstories
#nofilter clickedon #motoG
#runningstreamproject
#runningstream
#instacreative #instaproject
#natgeoyourshot #yourshot #photoproject
#watershedstories
#waterfront #storiestoliveby #unicef #wash #fielddiaries


0

#Repost @natgeo (@get_repost)
・・・
photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason


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‘Watershed Stories’, A beautiful new show of works organized by @artisalivingsystem at the @catskillcenter, in their #ErpfGallery. CatskillCenter.org for details. Only up for a limited run. Go see it and get inspired by the creators who worked to piece together the experience and knowledge embedded in our regional watershed. •• #catskills #catskillcenter #watershed #watershedstories #catskillwatershed #nycwatershed #nyc #newyork #artinspires #learnbydoing #waterislife #symbiosis #symbiosis2017 #lynnmargulis #jamesmacalister @catskilldreamteam


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our planet deserve to be saved 🌎 #Repost @natgeo
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photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason


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#Repost @thephotosociety (@get_repost)
・・・
Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason @thephotosociety @natgeocreative


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Repost from @thephotosociety on Instagram: “Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a…” using @RepostRegramApp - Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason @thephotosociety @natgeocreative


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Photo by @randyolson | words by @neilshea13 — Somewhere off Newfoundland they caught up, looped a cable around that waist of ice, and started pulling. The ship’s engines groaned, and at the waterline there was a slither of steel and plastic as the line went tight. The ice had become troublesome. Yes it was enormous, but it was also free, and that is a condition never tolerated long. On its slow wander through the North Atlantic the iceberg had come to threaten an oil platform called Hibernia, which sits a few hundred miles from the spot where, in 1912, the Titanic sank. A century later, everyone concerned wanted to avoid another wreck and so the berg was lassoed and tugged away. It takes a lot to budge the big ones, but just a few degrees will do to spare disaster. Look at those blues, all the colors of cold, and imagine the slow dissolve ahead. How long did this one last? They say such ice is a memory from the past, from the old earth, and like everything remembered it grows and shrinks and shapes itself until it falls apart.

Water. It runs through all of our work. In every story, every photograph, water is present—or by its absence still leaves a mark. This series explores of ideas and places that are connected by water, and the ways our lives and memories have been shaped by it. Join us @randyolson & @neilshea13 for the journey.

#canada #newfoundland #atlantic #arctic #ice #iceberg #icebergalley #oil #hibernia #titanic #shipwreck #memory #cold #melt #watershedstories #adryseason @thephotosociety @natgeocreative


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