In rediscovering my love of photography, I found myself developing a new habit: grabbing the camera and heading outdoors to start capturing the beauty of my favourite season, fall. Little did I know that photographing trees and leaves would quickly progress into something else.
Before you could say “Squirrel!” I was distracted by the abundant wildlife going about its business in the crisp autumn air. I soon found myself following around the wildlife with my camera with the same intensity as Elmer Fudd hunting for “wabbits”.
I admit, the thrill of the hunt for the perfect photo was a little addicting, to the point that I started to forget about the original goal of taking pictures of the leaves and the trees.
It was in that transition that it occurred to me how nature photography is really a unique genre onto itself.
In the studio, when working with an inanimate object, I can stage it, style it, move it around, shoot it, adjust it, and reshoot it 50 times from different angles to get that one perfect shot.
In nature photography, when the moment presents itself, there is little time to think about it. The perfect moment is fleeting and the perfect picture is elusive. And when the subject flees, it is time to look for another subject. The creative challenge it presents is most fascinating to me.
Nature photography is a whole different ball game that requires time, patience, a good eye and the intuition to set up a shot that may (or may not) happen.
For example, as much as I would like to, I cannot tell a chipmunk to “hold still”, “smile”, “a little to the left”, “not so much”, “tilt your head down”, “turn around and try an over the shoulder shot”. Even though they work for peanuts, they are not the most cooperative of subjects.
It is a similar situation with birds. Continue reading