Since photos from this expedition are currently participating in several exhibitions and contests I decided to share my memories from the actual time they were taken.

I am fascinated by animals that remain unchanged throughout the course of time, living relics from the age when mankind was barely out of its cradle and mammoths  roamed the Earth. How awesome is it to see something like that and erase a time gap between yourself and the ancient past? To escape the insanity of our modern existence and feel the steady timeless flow of real life? For a long time I wanted to see one of the few great plains migrations left on this planet. Saiga (and the prong-horn) interest me more than wildebeest, so I entertained the idea of going to Kazakhstan one day, when a friend suggested something closer to home and a place where I could shoot another iconic animal from my wishlist - a wolf.

Now, wolves, in my opinion, a grossly misrepresented in our culture, and what frustrates me most is that people who cry "Wolf!" loudest are those who haven't set foot into wilderness and have seen a wolf in a zoo at best. A wolf is a notoriously shy animal and in most places it is extremely hard to photograph. In most cases even in wolf country you will never see one because it will avoid you like a plague. I've walked alone in wolf country, I have and still live in wolf country and so far I have had zero run-ins with these guys. Most I had near my house were some paw prints in the mud and a howling one year during the mating season. Sure, that varies from one geographic area to another, in some places wolves are much bolder and even have violent encounters with humans, cattle and dogs, but that doesn't mean it happens everywhere. City slickers who presume that the woods outside their home are crawling with wolves just aching to carve a slice of "long-pig" should really get over themselves. Come on, people, we are not that attractive of a meal and wolves are not that stupid.

Anyhow, I jumped at the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and soon found myself in the middle of a vast semi-desert open landscape with no connection to the outside world. I was stationed at the outpost with park rangers overseeing the Reserve. About a mile away from the outpost they created a waterhole by drilling an artesian well which supplied a constant flow of fresh cool water for the animals living in these parched lands. On one side of the waterhole the reserve staff set up an excellent blind. It was a structure that provided a photographer with a ground-level view and a good angle with perfect light both in the morning and the evening.

My schedule was a pretty leisurely one. I would get up before dawn and walk that mile across the night-shrouded plain. The sky was exactly what you'd expect from a Southern sky - deep, velvety and heavily star-studded. I could see lights from a town that was about 50 km away and it seemed foreign and ill-fitting. In the blind I would set up and begin to wait quietly. Somehow the first saiga managed to appear out of thin air. I kept a watchful eye on the steppe clear all the way to the horizon, yet I would turn to look elsewhere and there they were.

First ones came in small groups. Maybe they were so quiet because they lacked the safety in numbers. The group would mostly consist of females and adolescent animals and one adult male. The first time I saw them I was caught between awe at their primitive grace and amusement because of their odd appearance. This animal swings between graceful and ridiculous so much, it's enough to give you whiplash. I thought myself lucky to see this fragment of unsoiled nature, but I had no idea what was coming my way. The first small groups of antelope that I observed the first few times were just a small sample of things yet to come.

Soon their numbers started to increase and more and more crowned adult males appeared. And then the enormous, at least 2 000 strong herd rolled in. That was a blessing, because it contained many horned males who, because of poaching, are not as numerous as they should be. Oh, but this herd contained many of them. My friend told me to watch those horns when they were back-lit by the sun, because they would glow from the inside. I did, and once again saw this weird animal transform into something out of this world.

The horns seemed to be made of wax and glowed with a rose-gold light. The horns are one of the reasons the saiga is still hunted by poachers, but I cannot imagine them looking anywhere near as magical as this. This is where they belong - a glowing crown on a living relic of our Ice Age past.

The sun kept rising and the animals would continue to arrive. Soon the males began engaging in short and violent duels. The mating season was months away, yet the males would still test their potential rivals and show-off their own strength. The females didn't seem to care. The only ones bothered were occasional youngsters who got in the way and were scared off by the raging harem owners.

The fights were violent as they were short for the most part. A few of the males, however, refused to back down and would get quite carried away, dropping to their knees, finding higher ground to gain advantage and even risk fighting right on the muddy edge of the pond which they seemed to avoid doing.

The hard part about shooting saiga in action is getting a shot where their very flexible and soft trunk is not flinging around every which way. Before slamming into their opponent's horns the male saigas get up on their hind legs swinging their head. So many shots were ruined by those soft trunks distorting the animal's face beyond recognition. I cringed, I laughed, I cried. I am not going to put up those ruined shots here, though, but you can see how freely those soft faces change shape in motion in photos below.

Despite the fact that there were no predators in sight, the scent left by wolves who visited the waterhole regularly must have still lingered. Sometimes for no apparent reason at all the entire herd would spook and fly off. They would quickly see there was no danger and it was a false alarm and return to the water, but these flights were common. I guess surviving this long meant you always have to stay on your toes.

Well, the paranoid antelope were not entirely wrong. Unlike most places the wolves in the reserve did not show any signs of being disturbed by human presence in the blind. The first day they must have checked it out, did a little observation and once they were sure there was no danger, they just stopped caring altogether. The first one we saw was an adult male. He came to check out the situation and make sure everything was safe for his family. The second time he came, he was followed by his female and their four fully grown youngsters. The adults were smart enough to drink from the vertical pipe through which the constant flow of artesian water was supplied. This water was clean, ice-cold and lacked the salts that concentrated in the water closer to the shore where the pups would drink. I guess they still had some learning to do, at the very least they had yet to learn self-restraint and not rush to lap up any old water when there was basically Perrier being served just a few feet further up the shore.

The family of wolves came very early in the morning, so I had to use pretty high ISO, but I was still happy. To observe wolves out in the open like this is a rare opportunity and these animals were so chill about it even though they, I am 100% sure of it, were aware of humans nearby. I wasn't hoping for much more, but Nature was feeling generous.

One day the large herd was moving along, filling up on water before a long run across the dry plains when out of nowhere came a drop-dead gorgeous female wolf came. She was alone and a bit weary. Maybe she was nervous about being in the territory of the family, though most likely they are closely related. But soon she got confidant and strolled back and forth across the shallows. I could not believe how beautiful she was. The female with pups was showing signs of stress of taking care of a family, she was a little more worn, a little thinner. But this girl was smooth and well-groomed, all legs and grace. Perfect.

She was sniffing the ground and lapping up water occasionally. She was getting more comfortable by the minute. Before coming to shoot in this spot I was told that wolves and saiga are rarely seen together, and I was not very likely to see any interactions. Well, the wolf must have missed that memo, because after quenching her thirst and satisfying her curiosity, she turned her attention to the juicy antelope all around her. She did make an attempt to chase them (lousy attempt that resulted in nothing and was over quickly), but the shot I love is the one where she has three horned males in the background. As I was watching her then, all I could think was that this was something humans could have observed tens of thousands of years ago and here I was seeing it now. I cannot even begin to describe how breathtaking, how awesome and how humbling (in the best possible way) that experience was and how connected it made me feel with the world and life around me as all sense of time was being re-evaluated in my mind.

So many things came together for me in that one shot and it is such a memory to treasure.

As soon as the sun would rise higher it would get so hot that the heated air above ground would distort the images taken by the camera. There was no point in sticking around during the day so I would pack up and stroll back to base literally singing (quietly!) "Home on the range" because I was on the range where the antelope play. The most excitement I got when the sun was high was when a camel spider fell into my blind. There were some birds there during the day, but I had enough variety to photograph in the golden hours. I was thrilled when a skinny but still cute little steppe fox came one morning, I love these little guys.

Foxes turned out to be a bonus on this trip. There was a family of foxes living near the park rangers' outpost and it had several almost fully grown pups. These foxes, apparently, have had several litters here and were very accustomed to people. Good for the foxes, they made friends with the right kind of folks who posed no danger to the animals. Anyways, the foxes were quite bold and happy to come close in their search for food. As we wanted to photograph them we were allowed to throw some food for them out into the grass. We mostly used watermelon skins (because if you go to Astrakhan watermelon and honey melon are a must, delicious), and the foxes were very happy to eat the moisture-filled treats. These foxes were very thin and not as fluffy as I was used to seeing in the red fox, but in winter they do grow the luxurious long fur they are so known for.

The siblings obviously rivaled for food, but never got into a fight. They would just try to bury a morsel here or there or run away to munch on something in peace. But just like all other animals in this reserve they were incredibly laid back in the presence of humans and it was such a wonderful thing to see and be a part of. The guy in the photo below is stuffing his face with watermelon and definitely not screaming in horror.

I did get a chance to try another blind they had there, but it only had a small supply of water, so there wouldn't be any saiga, still, there was a chance to see a wolf. Meh, you win some, you lose some. All I got there was a scruffy old fox. Which I still like.

I would like to wrap this up with saying that it is amazing what a few dedicated and devoted people can do. The work done by the people who work in the reserve deserves the highest praise and respect. The animals, their absolutely calm and comfortable disposition in human presence is a testimony to how safe this place is for them. I hope this place will continue to provide a sanctuary for these amazing animals and generations to come will be able to witness one of the last real relics of Ice Age we have left.