Behind the Stories: An Author’s Conversation About Let’s Take a Journey: Inside Nature’s Mystical World

Lloyd W. Alexander | November 4, 2026

An edited conversation about the stories behind the photographs, learning to feel at home in the woods, and the emotional journey of completing a first book. Answers have been lightly organized from a spoken interview.

What inspired you to turn your wildlife photography into a book?

I’d been doing craft fairs, photography shows, and gallery openings. My photographs had been published in all kinds of places—even used on a credit card. People would ask me about the animals in the pictures, and I’d tell them the stories. But there were always other people waiting, so I could only give a shortened version.

Those stories helped people connect with the photographs, but I felt I was shortchanging them. I wanted them to know what it was really like to be there. I wanted them on my shoulder, looking at the animals with me—and, more importantly, being there with the animals. I wanted them to feel the joy, the calm, the setting. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, there are definitely a thousand words behind those pictures.

Did writing the book change how you selected the photographs?

Not really. The stories were already being told; I was finally able to finish telling them and give the animals and their experiences the life they deserved. People who helped me at fairs had heard the stories so often they could tell them themselves. That helped me realize how much more there was beyond the pictures.

Someone might look at a photograph of a fox and ask how I got the shot. The lighting, the planning, the luck, and the fox’s cooperation are part of the technical story. But the real story is that I had met that fox. I knew the fox, and the fox knew me. Don’t you want to know how?

Or there’s a picture of a bear standing with a frond in his mouth, trying to work out something he can smell but not see. I got that photograph because I outsmarted him that time—but he’d outsmarted me plenty of times before. You can’t see all that in the photograph.

You grew up in Portland. What was it like learning to be in the woods?

I was a city boy. I knew city sounds and how to judge what was happening around me—footsteps behind me, how fast someone was walking, whether something felt wrong. When I first went into the woods, it was daunting. I didn’t know what to expect or how animals would react to me.

I started going on hikes and looking for geocaches, and I discovered that the woods quieted my anxiety and my mind. At first, two trees snapping together could make me look around wondering what on earth was out there. Gradually, I began to understand the forest the way I understood the city.

I learned the shapes of trees, branches, and bushes, and how an animal partly hidden behind them changed those shapes. I learned to listen to leaves rustling and recognize what might be moving, and in which direction. Things that most people might walk past began to stand out to me.

When did you realize your experiences with wildlife were unusual?

Fairly early on, when I started calming down and animals seemed to appear. People who spent a lot of time in the woods told me they usually didn’t see much, while I was getting photographs of all kinds of animals. Some people called me Grizzly Adams or Doctor Dolittle. I can’t fully explain it, and I’m not sure I want to.

Sometimes I brought people into the woods, asked them to be calm and listen, and then asked Mother Nature whether an animal might come out. I remember occasions when it happened. Sharing that was fun, but I was careful. Some places felt sacred, and I didn’t want to expose them just to show somebody what I could experience.

I spent time around deer, foxes, bears, and even a hawk that, in a way, seemed to take me hunting. It was a special time.

What did you most want to honor in the book?

The animals and the trust I felt they gave me. In The Bug Light Boys, I’m honoring friends who trusted me. This book came later in my life, and nature gave me another kind of freedom when human relationships were difficult because of my anxiety.

Every moment mattered, even the smallest thing. I was thankful for whatever I saw, so I was never disappointed. I didn’t go into the woods looking for a particular animal. I went for the journey. The journey was what mattered, and whatever I encountered along the way was special.

What do you remember about finishing the book?

Naomi and I worked through the editing together. When we reached the end, we felt we’d made something that honored the stories and experiences, something an eight-year-old or an eighty-year-old could read and feel as if they were there.

We cried when we decided it was finished—happy tears. It was a huge undertaking to complete that first full book, even though the stories had been there all along. There were many more stories we could have included, but we chose the ones we thought would give readers the best chance to come along for the journey.

© 2026 Lloyd W. Alexander. All rights reserved.