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Lee Kjos: Eye of the Beholder

Russell Worth Parker

After telling the story of American waterfowling for decades, with countless of his images gracing the covers of magazines and serving as the centerpieces of major industry ad campaigns, Lee Kjos’s waterfowl photography might be the most recognizable in the art. That’s partially because he’s been at it since he was a boy who reached for his father’s Minolta. But it’s primarily because his style is so clearly his own as to be a brand unto itself. It’s a pretty fine legacy upon which to build an introduction. But if you ask Lee Kjos who he is, he says nothing about his work. With the flat vowels of a native Minnesotan’s sing-song, he says, “I'm a lifelong conservation and habitat-minded waterfowler.”

An older man with a gray beard and ponytail wears a brown cap and jacket while looking down outdoors.
Older man in outdoor gear stands in shallow water near a tree, with a duck, backpack, and shotgun hanging from the tree.
Older man standing in chest-deep water takes photos with a large camera and telephoto lens, wearing outdoor gear.

Hunting with Lee Kjos is an opportunity to see the world through his eyes, and the camera always with him, of which he says, “Sometimes I don't skin it, but it's always within arm's reach.” Though he never stops a hunt, he’s constantly framing moments in his mind, narrating in a running commentary heavy on words like “Beautiful!” and “Gorgeous!”. Kjos’s are particularly experienced eyes to be sure. He figures, “By the time I was a twelve- or thirteen-year-old, I'd hunted ducks in a dozen different states and three provinces in Canada.” Since then, he’s hunted every American flyway and seen every prairie and pothole in Canada, to say nothing of other countries. But for all that, Kjos’ are eyes that never fail to find delight in the world of ducks and what he calls the “mystery of migration.” He explains, “When I was young, I'd see major movements of birds and I remember asking my dad one time, ‘Where are they going? Where do they come from? And for the rest of my life it’s been, “Where do they come from and where are they going?” 

That lifelong wonder, sprinkled with a healthy dose of faith in a higher power, has served him well as a photographer, “I think things come from inspiration. It doesn't come from me. If there's a gift, that gift is in the way I see it. I think that's the artist's eye, but God is where I believe it comes from. And I’m just the conduit. So, I pray for quiet and to just let me see it, and I'll do my best not to mess it up.” His spirituality, coupled with self-deprecation, makes Kjos a great partner in a duck blind. But it’s his passion for the ducks that makes him a great partner in conservation.

 “My passion with Ducks Unlimited is huge. I've traveled all over the prairie, especially in California and Canada, and there is work that DU has done and continues to do that's mind-blowing, and if it weren't for that, ask yourself, where would we be?” The reason for Kjos’s affection for DU is immediately apparent to anyone familiar with the organization when Kjos is asked what he would change about the state of American waterfowling if he could snap his fingers. The question isn’t complete before he says, “Habitat. Restore all the wetlands and grassland.”

 “My passion with Ducks Unlimited is huge. I've traveled all over the prairie, especially in California and Canada, and there is work that DU has done and continues to do that's mind-blowing, and if it weren't for that, ask yourself, where would we be?”

In pursuit of habitat restoration, Kjos advocates for laws and policies that would make it easier for farmers to enroll their land in permanent grassland and wetland easements. He speaks out regularly and publicly on conservation issues. He calls and writes his legislators. And he votes. Asked about measures beyond those civic steps, Kjos says, “Well, I think you do that by example, by how you lead your life. In order to stand the test of time, you actually have to stand for something. And if you don't, you're nothing. You're spare parts.”

Lee Kjos could sit on his laurels at this point. He’s at the top of the mountain, with no need to account for the feet he’s climbed to get there. Of the ducks he has both loved and hunted for decades, he says, “I don't need to kill them, but I do need to see them. I have to be in them. If I'm not in them, I'm less than happy.” It’s the kind of measured contemplation that comes with age and experience, one yielding a simple desire to be remembered as “Faithful. Follower. Husband. Friend. That's it. I don't want to be known as a duck hunter or a photographer or a brand guy, I want to be known for being a good dude.” 

If there is indeed a Judgement Day, Lee Kjos will undoubtedly be found to have been “a good dude.” Beyond that moment? “I'm not sure I'll have a camera, but I know there's going to be a lot of ducks.”