At the Edge of the Fall: Photographing a Nesting Black Swift

I want to share a bit of the story that led to me capturing the following images of a Black Swift as it was arranging pieces of its nest while incubating at least one egg at the top edge of a waterfall.

Black Swift on Nest
Duchesne County, Utah  June 2024

Black Swift on Nest
Duchesne County, Utah  June 2024

Black Swift on Nest
Duchesne County, Utah  June 2024

I've become more fearful of heights with age. I was reminded of that fact when my friend James talked me into letting him put me in a harness and hold my life in his hands at the top of a nearly-100' waterfall on June 26th in 2024. We were planning to do some informal research on Boreal Owls in the Uinta Mountains later that evening, but we went up earlier in the day to see if we could find a Black Swift nest at the top of a waterfall. I knew that James was skilled when it came to safe repelling because of having significant experience over many years. He knew the gear, the knots, etc., but that didn't settle my anxiety about what he was encouraging me to do--let go of my fear and trust in his skills and "the rope" while using my hands to briefly illuminate and photograph what few people in Utah had ever done before.

A light rain was falling when we arrived, so I put on one of those cheap plastic emergency rain ponchos to protect the camera gear that I had harnessed to my chest. I figured I'd remove the poncho right before descending to the potential nest site. With the camera gear on my chest, I was struggling a little to see beyond it to put my first foot into the harness. James saw that struggle and offered to hold the harness so I could simply step into it. As I was putting my right foot into the harness and James was lifting the harness up toward my foot, the toe of the boot got hooked on the harness and knocked me off my balance. I began to fall backward toward the water pooling at the top of the waterfall. I tried to regain my balance to no avail. James instinctively reached out to snatch me from the fall, but he ended up with a handful of cheap plastic from the poncho. The rest of the poncho and I, along with thousands of dollars' worth of camera gear, fell backward, onto the rocks, just shy of landing in the pooling water. Luckily, I escaped without injury, but my desire to hang by a rope from a cliff to photograph a bird quickly left me. James assured me that it would all be good, so after securing the rope, harness, and carabiners, I was sheepishly moving toward the edge of the cliff. I tried to intellectually calm the nerves, but the body was telling me "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" I'm sure that by the third time I asked, "Do you have me, James?", he was sure that I was a scaredy cat. But we prevailed!

Here's a view of the top of the fall. We anchored ourselves above the fall, just around the corner of the cliff edge you see to the right of the fall. The nest was in the dark alcove on the left side of the fall, about 100' above the bottom of the fall.

James is one of those friends we all love. He's generous with his skills and resources, filled with quiet confidence and wisdom, always up for an adventure, and pushes me to stretch myself.