Juan Melli

A forecasted sunrise fizzled, but the Hudson River didn’t. On a low-wind, boatless morning, the river revealed its movement — smooth, ordered, and brisk. Sometimes the right image comes from stopping the chase and going with the flow.

5 days, 40 miles, and breathtaking sunrises in Idaho’s Sawtooth Wilderness - lakes, ridges, and unforgettable moments on and off the beaten path

Once rare in Sandy Hook Bay, harbor seals have returned. Cleaner water, healthier fish populations, and stronger protections have changed the story. Each fall, seals migrate south from Canada and New England, hauling out along the bay to rest, warm up, and ride out the winter.

Painted buntings are rare visitors to New Jersey, especially in winter. So when a brightly colored male appeared at a backyard feeder near Harsimus Cemetery in downtown Jersey City, birders from across the region took notice. Against an otherwise gray winter backdrop, the bunting brought a flash of color that felt almost unreal.

Two of New York City's most iconic symbols - the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building - lie 5.1 miles apart - one in Midtown Manhattan and the other in the Upper Newark Bay. So how - and from where - can you capture them in one photo?

Sandhill cranes are the most abundant crane species in the world, yet they remain uncommon in New Jersey. As sightings increase, I was fortunate to encounter them in three different locations over just two weeks.

Once driven to local extinction in the eastern United States by DDT, peregrine falcons have made a remarkable recovery through bans, captive breeding, and reintroduction efforts. Along the Hudson Palisades, a resident pair lives year-round, offering a rare chance to observe the world’s fastest bird up close.

You wouldn’t expect one of New Jersey’s largest wildlife spectacles to exist between Newark and Manhattan, beside the Turnpike and one of the busiest rail corridors in the country. But just before sunset, hundreds, sometimes nearly a thousand, egrets stream into a small grove of trees around a pond in Secaucus.

A friend and I spent five days backpacking in the Wind River Range in August 2024. Within hours we’d encountered moose, been closely watched by a great gray owl, and taken shelter from hail and high winds. By the time we reached Titcomb Basin and Indian Basin, it was already clear this would be a trip shaped as much by wildlife and weather as by the landscape itself.

As we drove past the boundary of Death Valley National Park, we stopped at the familiar park sign. Beneath the name is a quieter line: “Homeland of the Timbisha Shoshone.”