Braeden Roesler Photography

Earlier this week, my grandmother and I took the dogs up to The Beartooth Highway for the day, getting out of the hot muggy city to photograph a band of mountain goats at 10,000ft.

This time of year, the goats are shedding their thick winter coats, revealing their rugged beauty beneath matted tufts of fur caught in the wind. Among the herd were several kids (that’s what baby mountain goats are called) lounging in the sun, exploring, and playfully shadowing their mothers across the alpine tundra.

These moments - a kid dozing on the hillside, an inquisitive gaze from a young goat, or a sudden leap across the rocks - are the kind of quiet wildness that makes the Beartooths so special.

The Circle of Life

This July, I traveled up the Beartooth Scenic Highway to photograph mountain goats at the summit. I spent most of the morning of July 3rd observing two different herds (bands) with several kids (yes, that's actually what young mountain goats are called!).

Toward the end of the morning, three kids suddenly bolted toward the cliff edge, their mothers quickly following. Curious, I repositioned to get a better look — and that’s when I saw what had drawn them.

Just below, resting on a narrow rocky ledge surrounded by grass and wildflowers, lay the body of a deceased adult mountain goat, which had obviously not been there long.

Over the next 20 to 30 minutes, several kids and adults gathered around the goat. Each taking turns, approached it cautiously, as if investigating — perhaps even mourning. I believe this goat was part of the first, larger herd I had seen earlier in the day in the same area.

It was a somber moment. Unfortunate, yes, but natural. Whether from illness, injury, or simply old age, this goat had reached the end of its life. And yet, standing all around it was new life — healthy, vibrant, and curious.

It felt important to document that contrast — the quiet, powerful truth that life and death are always intertwined in nature. One ends, and another begins.

The other week, I shared several photos of two grizzly bears spotted along the Beartooth Highway. A few days later, I encountered three different grizzlies along a separate stretch of the same highway—so today, I’m sharing some portraits of those beautiful young bears.

Unfortunately unlike my previous encounter, this moment wasn’t a quiet one. It was the middle of a busy afternoon, and traffic had jammed near a series of pullouts as the bears emerged from the forest, crossed the road, and began grazing along a hillside near a creek.

I say unfortunately not because I mind sharing the experience—but because of the irresponsible behavior of several people who got out of their vehicles and stood within 25–50 feet of these wild bears - who were already right next to the roadway, just to grab photos on their phones. My attempts to explain the danger to them—the safety of both people and the bears—were largely ignored.

Many don’t realize how incredibly lucky they are to witness wild grizzlies this close. But that luck turns into recklessness the moment you push the boundary. These were likely recently-separated siblings, newly on their own after being kicked away by their mother. They were simply grazing—uncertain, vulnerable, but peaceful. It only takes one bad decision, one sudden movement, for everything to go wrong, though.

Modern phones are capable of incredible zoom and detail from a safe distance. In this particular scenario, zooming in wasn't even required. There’s no need to get dangerously close. As someone who photographs wildlife for a living, I invest in long lenses, high-resolution gear, and—more importantly—time, patience, and ethical distance. Sometimes that means sacrificing a better angle or shot to do what’s right. As you can see here, even by remaining in my car I still got great images.

Despite the stress of the scene, I’m grateful the bears remained calm for the most part and eventually disappeared back into the forest after crossing the creek. It was still a blessing to watch them— I hope we can all someday learn treat the bit of wilderness with the respect it deserves.