What turns a bird picture into a work of art? A magazine recently asked me and other photographers who had been honored by Audubon that question. I’m certain we gave them enough material to fill a how-to book. But they were looking only for a short article, so little of it ended up in print. Here’s what would have gone into my chapter.
There’s a lot about nature photography that’s difficult. Fighting uncooperative equipment. Braving intense weather. Conquering tough trails. But one of the most difficult aspects is standing around, doing nothing, as nature does what nature does.
If you watch many nature documentaries, you may be under the impression that photographers get excited the moment they see animals struggle for their lives. Struggle seems to be a necessary part of life and it can result in dramatic images. While documenting that struggle can be a necessary part of my job, it is a part that, frankly, sucks.
Let me tell you about an afternoon I spent observing the nest of a pied-billed grebe.
There’s a saying that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. While that may apply to acts of charity or taking initiative on a project at work, it does not apply to using someone else’s artwork.
My series of images of a bald eagle, young fox and rabbit in midair made the rounds of the internet again a few weeks ago. But this time, nobody asked for permission to post the images. Worse, nobody even acknowledged that I was the photographer.
For the past month my grilling tent has been a nursery. A pair of songbirds, dark-eyed juncos, decided to try to raise a family in it.
I don’t have any great pictures to show you. Given that I am a nature photographer, that may seem odd, but their little lives are far more valuable than any pictures I might make.
Whenever I give a nature talk, one question usually comes up. And it’s almost always phrased as a statement. “You must spend a lot of time standing around waiting for something to happen.”
I do spend a lot of time waiting — but probably not anywhere near the amount people asking the question suspect.
As soon as the eggs are laid, most female ducks are on their own. They are left to raise the young by themselves. And for good reason: the male ducks, called drakes, command attention.
A lot of environmental activism focuses on what others need to do. Switching to clean energy. Stopping pollution. Conserving large swaths of land. And so on. But individuals play a role, too. We can’t afford to act as if taking care of the planet is always someone else’s problem.
