Part 1 of my tips for nature photography covered five basic principles: Be patient; use blinds to separate yourself from your subject (when dealing with wildlife since that makes little sense if you’re photographing a flower); get away from people to see the really interesting things; be mindful of the smells you carry into the wild; and use all your senses—and use them smartly—to find the hidden gems that most will never see. Here in part 2 I will delve into another five principles, and at the end I will address the question so many people have asked me: How do I get so close to wildlife?
(1) Walk softly and carry a big lens
In most cases, the basic rule of nature photography is the same as for every other kind of photography: The closer you are to the scene, the better the image. Very much unlike people in a photo studio, however, you’re unlikely to get caribou to stand still while you walk up to snap a picture of the herd. That’s where big lenses come in.
Personal preference note: Except in case where I know precisely what I’ll be photographing and how near or far I’ll be from the subject, I’m not fond of lenses with fixed focal lengths (e.g., a 300mm lens). That’s because I never know how close I’ll be to what I’m taking a picture of, so standing three feet/one meter from a hairy woodpecker isn’t going to help me if all I have is a 300mm lens. I’m therefore fond of zoom lenses (e.g., 100-400mm), though keep in mind there is some quality lost in trade for the ability to zoom in and out.
No matter if you have a fixed focal length lens or a zoom lens, you’ll be able to reach out further with bigger lenses (those with higher ‘mm’ numbers or, for point-and-shoot cameras, those with higher ‘x’ numbers). Even though you want to get close to your subject to increase the image quality, you also want to pull the subject closer through a powerful lens. This spans the distances at which nature exists.
Keep in mind landscape and macro photography are good examples of times when a huge lens isn’t really the best option. For that reason, this particular suggestion is meant for those cases when you’re taking photos of subjects at distance rather than up close or with wide viewing angles. It behooves any photographer to be prepared with the lenses appropriate to the circumstances and needs, and to be familiar with which lenses are best for which kinds of images.
(2) Be slow, or better yet stand still
There are times when hurrying is the only way to get a photo. You can’t be expected to sit idly and wait for that osprey that just flew by to come back for a brief photo op. But overall, nature hates to be hurried—and it especially abhors a lot of activity from interlopers like us.
Hurrying is the best way to miss things, whether it be the coyote watching you from beneath a bower or an owl perched in a nearby tree…or even the tiniest of flowers hidden amongst blades of grass. Your senses become clouded with the byproducts of your own movement, so move with purpose but without speed. You’ll be amazed at what hides in our scampering to and fro.
Slowness and stillness also cloak the third problem nature photographers face: the sounds we make. Being seen, being smelled and being heard can ensure you see nothing except mosquitoes munching on your tender bits. When you rush headlong through the forest or scamper too quickly along rocky slopes, you make a tremendous amount of noise: you breathe heavily; your footfalls break twigs and crush leaves and kick rocks; anything you’re carrying rattles and shakes; and everything you brush against scrapes at your skin and clothing. You won’t get within a mile of anything when you sound like a tank rolling across the landscape.
Planting yourself in one spot and becoming as silent as a stone can lead to a new world of discovery as wildlife moves nearby. Many creatures wait only for us to be still before they go on with their business. On the other hand, if you’re walking or hiking but don’t want to miss what’s out there, make each step count, make it diligent, make it deliberate—and make it quiet.
(3) Understand what you’re looking for and looking at
Undirected photography in nature means you stroll about snapping photos of anything interesting. Directed photography, on the other hand, means you head out the door to photograph something specific. In both cases, understanding what you’re likely to see can help.
For example: It’s laughable to think you intend to photograph an alligator when you don’t have some answers. Where’s the best place to find them? When are they most likely to be visible? How do you safely get close and safely get away? What is their charge radius and what does it mean to you? How do you minimize their reaction to you so you can get a nearby clear view?
Or if it’s a specific flower you’re looking for: Does it bloom in the morning, afternoon or evening? What kind of weather is most conducive to seeing it in bloom? In what season(s) does it appear most frequently? Is it most likely to be found in a field? On a tree? In shade or direct sunlight? Near water or only where it’s dry?
As you learn more about the critters you want to photograph, you’ll find reactions vary. Why does a centipede run when a millipede doesn’t? Why does a jumping spider react when an orbweaver won’t? When a kingfisher calls out, is it panic, challenge or courtship?
Understanding the behavior and idiosyncrasies of wildlife can be the difference between a captivating close-up and a bedeviling blur, and understanding the environmental needs of flora and fungi can be the difference between photographing the same old pecan tree or discovering a magical realm of woodland mushrooms. Knowing where and when and how to find the subjects you’re most interested in will bring into focus a world that surrounds us yet remains largely unseen; knowing something about how they will respond to you will ensure those subjects wind up in the frame and not just in your memories.
(4) Be mindful and be careful
Though most everything in nature is harmless, there’s a tiny fraction of life that can and will hurt you. Remember what I said about kicking logs before you step over them? Finding a copperhead sunning on the other side of a fallen tree is but one of a million examples of why you need to observe and act when in the wild.
You should know what’s around you at all times. You should always be aware of what’s around your footsteps—each footstep before you take it. You should keep a mental inventory of the space around you and update that inventory every time you move.
Who hasn’t walked through a spider web? That’s one of the easiest examples of why being observant is of such importance. When you walk through the web, you’ve not only missed seeing the spider but you’ve also missed seeing the web, one of nature’s strongest and most beautiful constructs. Add to that what I call the spider dance: That rabid waving of arms and brushing of hair and clothes and skin and vehement turning in circles as you scream “IS IT ON ME!? IS IT ON ME!?” I’m always entertained by the spider dance since most people harbor some level of arachnophobia and can’t help the sudden tornadic two-step that results from a bit of silk stretched across the face.
Humor notwithstanding, you might easily brush against poison ivy or step over a sleeping viper or poke your face into a dark space where a black widow is hiding. Knowing what might be lurking in your path by being familiar with what’s in the area comes into play here as well.
And when I say be mindful, I don’t just mean be mindful of your surroundings. I mean also be mindful of your actions. Here’s an example.
While standing beneath a canopy of ancient, massive live oak trees at the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge earlier this year, I stared into the dense understory trying to locate a bit of movement I’d seen only briefly as I walked. Size and color made me think it a possible coyote or fox slumbering in the shadows. As I gazed at eye level hoping my peripheral vision would pick up additional movement, something unseen slithered onto my shoe and wrapped around my bare ankle. It had to be a snake.
There are five venomous snake species known to inhabit the Aransas NWR. Weather conditions at the time meant any one of them might be sliding around my leg, and my location near both the ocean and freshwater sloughs meant I couldn’t discount any of them—not even the cottonmouth. So what did I do? Did I panic and leap into the air and possibly endanger myself? Nope.
Very slowly, very casually and very carefully, I lowered my head. None of this involved moving any other part of my body. So far as the rest of me was concerned, I was a tree, still and stoic.
Thankfully it was nothing more menacing than a rough green snake, a nonvenomous reptile that’s as delightful as it is safe. It retreated into the grass only when the shadow of the camera fell on it as I tried for a picture. Oh well. Would have been cool having it wrapped around my ankle like that. Maybe another time…
The point is this: Had it been any of the dangerous snake species and had I reacted differently, it would have enjoyed an easy strike on naked skin. My best hope for safety was to be mindful of my own reaction to its presence.
(5) Don’t act like a predator
Trees, flowers, mushrooms, lichens… Let’s be honest: You don’t have to worry about them running away from you. And in truth you don’t have to worry about some wildlife running away from you: ants won’t flee in panic just because you walk toward them. But a good deal of wildlife will do just that. So you need to stop acting like a predator if you want to get close.
Humans have forward-facing eyes. This generally indicates a predator, whereas prey animals generally have side-facing eyes (though there are exceptions in both cases). The trade-off is easy to figure out: Binocular vision (forward-facing eyes) increases depth perception and the ability to locate faint objects, hence this is advantageous for predatory animals; monocular vision (side-facing eyes) enables each eye to act independently and the animal to see a larger field of view, hence this is advantageous for prey animals. (There are other differences between the two visual systems and you’re encouraged to investigate that further.)
Many animals come with built-in knowledge of what eye placement means. Take past studies that show birds know where we are looking based on the direction we face. Take more recent studies that show birds not only understand where we’re looking by where we’re facing, but they understand where we’re looking based on where we aim our eyes even when we don’t move our heads. Now imagine what animals think when you stare at them and approach.
A great many people have seen this in practice. You’re walking along blissfully unaware when suddenly your peripheral vision picks up a bit of movement. You stop and turn and stare. That’s when the bird perched quite near you takes flight. Why didn’t it move as you wandered close to its location? Because even though you’re a threat, you hadn’t shown an indication of being aware of it or interested in it, therefore the bird’s safest reaction was to sit still and hope you passed by without incident.
Learn how to approach wildlife without causing panic. Learn how indirect gazes can obscure your interest. Learn how peripheral vision is the greatest tool you have, and learn how to use it. Learn how your camera can serve as a blind. Learn how to walk toward something without making a beeline in its direction. Learn to reduce the threat your actions imply.
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For the many people who asked how I get close to wildlife, this two-part entry contains that information. It’s a combination of these ten nature photography tips: I know how a species will react; I understand when and how to find something; I use cover to obscure my approach and presence, even if it’s just my car; I wait, sometimes for long periods of time, and I stand still and watch carefully; I’m always aware of the scents, sounds and sights I might offer and I do my best to mitigate those problems; I stay away from people; I use all my senses in the best ways possible; I’m mindful of my surroundings and my own reactions to those surroundings, and I never let anything cause me to become unglued no matter how horrible or troubling; I use the biggest lenses appropriate for the circumstances; and I don’t act like I’m hunting, but instead I proffer a sense of ambivalence and disinterest, even the air of being clueless to my surroundings and what hides there.
