I had just finished loading the old pickup when the phone rang. "I'm sick. I can't make it." It was my old photo buddy calling to cancel our plans. We had intended to visit a remote campground along the navigation channel here in eastern Oklahoma where we were to camp out, fish a little, take a few photos, and relax at the end of the day with a plentiful supply of liquid refreshments.

Anyway, since I was already packed and ready, I decided to go solo. Nature photography seems to often work best as a singular pursuit so going alone was no deterrent. I found the campground, quickly put up the tent, and took off in search of nature subjects. There were plenty of wildflowers and insects about so I had little difficulty in amusing myself with the subjects at hand. After firing off a roll or two, the light had faded to the point where photography wasn't all that practical. It was time to go fishin'.

Catfish! That's what you fish for in the navigation channel. But you got to have some bait and the old man at the bait store told me stink bait was best. So I bought some. But as the name implies, it reeks of an aroma that can only be called indescribable. It's somewhere between a three day dead armadillo and a backed up septic tank. It's made with...well; you don't need to know. The next time you order catfish at your favorite restaurant, try not to think about what they eat.

The problem was that on this particular night, the catfish had apparently had their fill of stink bait or whatever other disgusting things they ingest as their were no tugs on my line all evening. This was not all bad however, as I was now well into the supply of refreshments and there was the added bonus that since my buddy cancelled out, I no longer had to worry about sharing any of it. Actually, catching a catfish at this point would have only complicated matters and ruined a perfectly delightful evening. The wind was calm, the temperature perfect, even the skeeters weren't too bad. The small campground was quiet, deserted actually. It was just me and Ol' Man Navigation Channel. He don't say nothin' But he must know somethin' Cause he just keeps rollin'....

At some point in time when the refreshments and my patience ran out, I gave up on the catfish and staggered, I mean walked over to my tent and collapsed, I mean, laid down on the bedroll. But sleep was not to be for I had no sooner closed my eyes than a vehicle approached with what sounded like some teens who had apparently been fortified with refreshments of their own. They hit my tent with their headlights, flashing them from low to bright, over and over, and seemed to find this hilariously funny. Doesn't take much to amuse some of our good ol' boys around here. Thankfully, they have short attention spans and the incident ended when they finally drove off, still laughing uproariously. My head hit the foam pillow and sleep came at last.

It must have been around 2 a.m. when, once again, the tent lit up like high noon. Damn kids! Except this time, there were no laughing teenagers. Instead a low pitched droning sound filled the air with a vibration I could feel coming right up through the sleeping bag. The blinding light blinked out but the strange sound remained and it was getting louder. Then the light hit me again, this time even more intense. There was only one explanation. UFO!!!! Aliens!!!

OH NO! Wasn't this the exact scenario where these guys usually land; isolated area, no witnesses? What to do? My mind raced (well, it raced as fast as it could under the influence of all those refreshments) trying to figure out a course of action. Should I stand outside the tent to meet them, maybe holding out the palm of my hand in the old Oklahoma Indian tradition? "Peace!" No. Maybe I should offer them some left over stink bait? No. Wait a minute; I got a camera! It's my chance of a lifetime. It's the mother of all photo op's!

HEADLINE: WORLD'S FIRST ACTUAL PHOTO OF LITTLE GREEN MEN! I'll be famous!

O.K., stay calm. Got film. What lens a telephoto for sure, maybe a 100-300mm? Flash? No, better not, they might think it's a weapon and fry me with a laser beam. Had to hurry, the droning sound was getting weaker.

Cautiously I unzipped the tent, stepped outside, and looked up nothing but stars. There was the light again but low, very low. Maybe they had already landed. Now I could see it was a spotlight, a very powerful spotlight, sweeping the banks of ...the navigation channel. It was a BARGE, a damned ol' stinkin' barge, it's powerful engine droning away, probably hauling our tax dollars to New Orleans.

Oh, well. I probably would have blown the exposure on the aliens anyway.

Warren Williams has been doing photography for over 25 years focusing mainly on Nature and wildlife. His work has been published in several magazines, including Outdoor Photographer, Outdoor Oklahoma, Oklahoma Today, and Persimmon Hill (the magazine of the Cowboy Hall of Fame). Several of his photos have also appeared on calendars by Smith-Southwestern. Warren is an active member on Photo Migrations and would also invite you to visit his website located at: Warren Williams Photography - Images of Wildlife and Nature.