Written by Christina McBride
When I was invited to become part of Art With Impact Gallery, an organization whose artwork helps support California Condor conservation through donations to The Peregrine Fund, I didn't need much convincing.
Like Cathy, the AWIG founder, I have felt connected to the California Condor for as long as I can remember.
My parents and grandparents lived in Ojai, California, and often shared stories about these incredible birds. They spoke of their overwhelming size and the unforgettable sight of giant wings soaring effortlessly overhead. Those stories captured my imagination long before I ever had the chance to see a condor myself.
I was born in the 1970s, just as California Condor populations were beginning a dramatic decline. I vividly remember learning that only a handful of birds remained and that the surviving condors would be captured to begin a desperate effort to save the species from extinction. That news was heartbreaking.
During holiday visits to my grandparents, my brother and I tried to understand just how enormous these birds really were. We would lie on the ground end to end, yet we still couldn't match the California Condor's incredible 9-foot wingspan. Then we measured the distance from the floor to the ceiling inside the house—eight feet—and realized a condor's wings stretched even farther than that. To a child, it seemed impossible that a bird could be so magnificent.
One morning we woke long before sunrise and made the winding drive up Mount Pinos, hoping to catch a glimpse of these legendary birds. After what felt like an endless journey, we finally saw them soaring high above the mountains.
They were so distant that they almost seemed mythical.
That experience became my first real encounter with the idea of extinction. Even though I could see the handful of condors soaring high above, knowing that I was looking at what was left in the world gave me a lasting impression that has stayed with me throughout my life.
A Chance Encounter at Vermilion Cliffs
Fast forward many years.
Just one week after my first Art With Impact Gallery meeting, my family and I left for a spring break road trip through Utah and Arizona. We had no fixed itinerary and simply planned to explore wherever the road led us.
While looking at the map, I noticed Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, one of the release sites where California Condors have been reintroduced to the wild. I discovered it was more than an hour out of our way, so I reluctantly decided it wasn't meant to be.
The next morning, as we continued driving near Lake Powell, the Vermilion Cliffs suddenly appeared on the horizon.
I couldn't believe it.
I immediately called Cathy.
She asked where we were and laughed.
"You're only about 20 miles away," she said.
Even more incredible, we were also near the exact location where she photographed the landscape that later inspired her Vermilion Cliffs painting.
She dropped a pin for us. There wasn't a visitor center or even a marked turnoff—just a dirt road leading toward the historic Navajo Bridge, which crosses the Colorado River.
As soon as I spotted two photographers carrying enormous telephoto lenses, I knew we had found the right place.
Below the bridge, gathered along the riverbank, were six wild California Condors.
Using binoculars, we could make out their numbered wing tags.
I spotted Condors #19 and #33.
One of the photographers introduced me to Condor Spotter, a website that allows you to identify individual wild condors and learn their histories.
Suddenly these birds weren't simply symbols of conservation.
They had names, histories, and individual lives.
My daughter and I eagerly looked up each of the six birds we had seen. We learned that Condor #19 was approximately two years old and part of the Utah-Arizona flock.
It made the experience deeply personal.
A Powerful Reminder
At first, I wondered why none of the condors were flying. Instead, they stood closely grouped together on the ground. One of the photographers handed me his camera, which had far more magnification than my binoculars.
When I looked through the lens, my excitement quickly turned to concern.
The condors were gathered around an empty cardboard 12-pack box, pecking curiously at it. I hoped they were simply investigating something unfamiliar.
Still, it was a sobering reminder that while California Condor conservation has been one of North America's greatest wildlife success stories, human activity continues to threaten not only condors but countless other species.
In The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History, Elizabeth Kolbert writes:
"Right now we are in the midst of the Sixth Extinction, this time caused solely by humanity's transformation of the ecological landscape."
That moment reminded me that conservation isn't just about saving one species. It's about protecting the ecosystems we all share.
Thankfully, when I recently looked up Condor #19 again, I was thrilled to learn that he is still alive and thriving.
Why Conservation Through Art Matters
After seeing the Vermilion Cliffs with my own eyes, I understood Cathy's painting in an entirely new way.
The towering cliffs, the vibrant colors, and the immense landscape all came rushing back the first time I saw her artwork displayed at the World Center for Birds of Prey.
Now, every time I look at that painting, I don't just see a beautiful landscape.
I remember six wild California Condors.
I remember my daughter excitedly learning about individual birds.
I remember the stories my grandparents told me decades ago.
Most of all, I'm reminded that art has the power to connect people with wildlife conservation in ways facts and statistics alone cannot.
At Art With Impact Gallery, every piece of artwork tells a story—and every purchase helps support organizations working to protect birds of prey and endangered wildlife for generations to come.
That is the true impact of art.
