Chase Season

Right now, a crew of daring female photographers is crisscrossing the country to capture our most severe stormsand to unearth clues that could save lives.

- YESSENIA FUNES

Jessica Moore

Colorado Springs, Colorado

11 years in the field

"Storm photography is my full-time job. Every day, I'm looking at data patterns. I go where the storms are.

The most massive supercell [a violent thunderstorm with a rotating air mass inside it] I ever saw was in 2019 near Imperial, Nebraska. I positioned myself in a location known as the notch, where air is sucked into the updraft of the storm. It's the most dangerous place you can stand. The wind was howling; I stayed as long as I could before having to move to safety. I never knew that kind of storm was possible in the northern High Plains.

Some data suggests that as the climate warms, the intensity of storms increases. And I've personally witnessed what appears to be an eastward shift in devastating storms, from Tornado Alley [in the middle of the country] toward densely populated Southeast and Gulf Coast states as well as toward the northern High Plains and upper Midwest.

An important aspect of what I do is reporting to the National Weather Service and local EMS agencies. I call in things like hailstone sizes, strong winds. The quicker agencies have that ground truth from storm spotters, the faster they can issue their warnings. Helping to inform and warn the public has become a far more critical component of how I pursue and document storms."

Tornadoes with 200-mph winds that pulverize everything in their path. Towering monsoon storms that hurl biblical hail.

On some level, this generation of storm hunters-raised on the movie Twisterknew exactly what they were getting into. But the larger existential threat of climate change? That was new.