The science of the birds first drew Rosalie Winard to brown pelicans.

She was working on a degree in natural history with a specialization in ornithology and ethology from the New College of Florida and was studying the threat and greeting displays of the brown pelicans.

But then she fell in love with the beauty. "I saw it diving at dawn into the still waters of Sarasota Bay, and it looked like he flew out of a Paul Klee painting." She would never look at the birds the same again.

Eventually, she left the science behind and began taking pictures, not just of pelicans, but of all waterfowl: herons, ibises, cormorants, cranes, anhingas, avocets, spoonbills, egrets, limpkins.

She chose black-and-white infrared photography as her medium because she felt it more clearly captured the spirit and personality of the birds.

An exhibition of her large-format photos is on display at the Utah Museum of Natural History and invites visitors to visit a "world of wings, feathers and beaks; soaring, swooping, flocking and floating." The exhibit runs through Feb. 22.

"Winard focuses on a vivid array of birds with a keen eye, opening a window to their world," says Becky Menlove, director of exhibits and public programs at the museum. "Her images capture humor, complexity, struggle and power. The birds dance and run and land with unconventional grace. They wear their feathers like Sunday hats and strut with their unbelieveably long legs. They fly and dive, wade and wander — you'll never look at birds the same way."

Many of the photos are drawn from her recently published book, "Wild Birds of the American Wetlands" (Welcome Books, $39.95, with an introduction by Terry Tempest Williams), which was honored at the 2008 International Photography Awards (the "Oscars" of the photography world).

Many are of birds can be seen at the Great Salt Lake and its surrounding wetlands, where Winard has visited a number of times.

The Great Salt Lake is one of the world's great flyways, she says. In fact, it was there that she saw her first white pelicans. She was on her way to the Bear River Bird Refuge, "when I noticed these white dots silhouetted against the distant Wasatch Mountains." Transfixed as the dots became larger and larger, she drove past her exit. "Before I realized I was lost, I had counted 17 white pelicans."

Later on, at the refuge, "happiness flowed through me. Not the giddy kind, but a calm happiness that told me I was just where I belonged." White pelicans, she discovered, were different in many ways from brown pelicans. They don't dive for fish, she explained, they float on the water in groups, herding the fish, then in unison dip their heads and necks into the water.