In July, I had the opportunity to shadow the bird rescue and rehab operations in Louisiana for Mother Jones magazine.  The biggest problem in photographing the spill –and the reason why it was an incredible opportunity to cover its different components for different clients –is that the actual fallout from the oil is so large and cumbersome in nature that it’s next to impossible to wrap your head around in a short amount of time.  In my estimation, the spill is a conceptual issue.  You can look at it from a micro perspective, but fail to show the broader scope of its impact; likewise, you can take a macro perspective, but that fails to show any real, tangible effects of the oil.  In essence, I think the choice for most magazines has been to either show satellite images that give a sense of the colossal reach of a disaster front that stretches from Texas to Florida or to lean towards showing the environmental or human toll in order to approach it from a more personal perspective.  Both approaches are valid and still neither comes close to giving an accurate sense of reality.

Complicating matters is the actual nature of the mess.  The slick itself doesn’t really have any firm correlations to previous spills.  Unlike the Exxon Valdez, it’s not a two-dimensional issue.  It has depth and dimensionality resulting from the application of dispersant on the surface.  This essentially means that there is a tip to this iceberg (and a corresponding subsurface behemoth).  Mapping and understanding the nature of these subsurface plumes has been the source of much back-and-forth between BP and researchers, though at least one 22 mile long plume has been confirmed and, at depths, the plume lacks two components crucial to degradation –oxygen and heat.  

The story becomes conceptual at this point because it is difficult to show future impacts or to track slow degradation of a shoreline, an industry, or a ecosystem.  You can’t show a subsurface plume, photograph the chain reaction that happens when a keystone species in the food web is threatened, or make black-and-white the grey areas that occur in the interim between the explosion and the impact.  But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.  

So, given these very practical constraints, this set of pictures takes an anthropomorphic look at some of the direct impacts of the spill by tracking a full day with rehab workers from Tri-State Bird Rescue and Research as well as the International Bird Rescue and Research Center.  These workers are selfless and passionate about what they do and the opportunity to shadow them was something that I took very seriously.  Oiled birds come in, captured by rescue workers throughout the region.  They arrive caged and are triaged according to their condition.  Lightly oiled birds are treated last, heavily oiled ones are treated first.  Some birds are dead (or near death).  A percentage of what arrives will either die or be euthanized.  The first phase of treatment involves an intake procedure that documents the bird’s condition and attempts to help the bird regain its a stable body temperature, receive some form of nutrition, and prepare it for a subsequent cleaning.

Contrary to popular belief, it’s not enough to just scrub the oil from the bird and put it back out in the wild.  When a bird is covered in oil, it’s ability to repel water is severely impacted, leaving them unable to effectively thermoregulate, forage for food, or properly hydrate.  Incoming birds must first be stabilized, warmed, fed, and hydrated before they are candidates for cleaning.  Re-release into the wild is an entirely separate set of hurdles that consider the birds condition after cleaning, existing injuries, and the likelihood that its re-release will place it in the same danger that it was just removed from.  

***

Just like the set of images for Time Magazine, I’d like to thank both the International Bird Rescue and Research Center and Tri-State Bird Rescue and Research for accommodating my request to photograph their faciltiy.  I had the opportunity to join a press tour of their workspace prior to my time there and am always surprised by how journalists create their own biggest obstacles by being pushy, demanding, or aggressive when the situation doesn’t require it.  Part of my agreement with the facility was to remain low-key and unobtrusive during my time photographing this very difficult subject matter.  I did my best to keep that promise and could barely leave after shooting for twelve hours.  Their work is compelling, thankless, and important.  I hope my pictures reflect that sentiment and am definitely thankful for the opportunity to share this work publicly.  

In July, I had the opportunity to shadow the bird rescue and rehab operations in Louisiana for Mother Jones magazine.  The biggest problem in photographing the spill --and the reason why it was an incredible opportunity to cover its different components for different clients --is that the actual fallout from the oil is so ...