Hard to believe another year has come and gone!
The past twelve months were again packed with travel. For the sixth consecutive year, I made trips to Ecuador, Costa Rica and Peru - guiding tours for Bartley’s Photo Workshops. The tropical rainforests and cloud forests of Central and South America have quickly become something of a second home for me. It was great to spend more time in these beautiful environments this past year.
Lecturing aboard the Cunard Queen Elizabeth on a trip from Anchorage to Vancouver was another welcome opportunity to see more of the Alaska and BC coast. Though photography time was limited, a long overdue jaunt into Denali National Park was also an amazing experience!
Closer to home, I led my annual workshops here in British Columbia, alongside Connor Stefanison. Our Winter Birds of Vancouver, Manning Park and Ultimate Loons trips were again very successful. It’s always a privilege to share our favourite spots with passionate photographers from all over the world!
In between workshops, I managed to sneak in some time here and there to pursue a few of my own photography targets. Though certainly not a banner year, I’m pleased with how a handful of images turned out! I hope you’ll enjoy the following selection. Let me know if you have a favourite!
Red Fox Pup, British Columbia
During my annual Ultimate Loons Photo Workshops in the Interior of British Columbia, Connor Stefanison and I dedicate several weeks to scouting prior to the arrival of our participants. One focus of ours is locating the dens of Red Foxes. Many that we come across tend to be safely tucked away and very challenging from a photography perspective. This year however, beneath a century-old barn, we located this very photogenic site. The four pups were still quite timid and not wanting to disturb them, I employed the use of a remote shutter release attached to my camera - all concealed beneath a cloak of camouflage fabric and vegetation. From about one hundred metres away, I would fire the camera whenever a pup’s curiosity would get the better of them and they had to steal a peek at the outside world. The quiet clicking of the shutter really piqued their interest; testing their already amazing hearing that would soon become critical for their survival.
Yellow-spotted River-Turtle & Godart’s Numberwing, Ecuador
This bizarre behaviour is something that I’ve witnessed many times throughout the Amazon Rainforest, but typically from a distance. During my annual trip to Ecuador early this year, I staked out this turtle in the hot midday sun in hopes of capturing this image. Read on below to find out exactly what’s going on here…
With systems originating from the Pacific obstructed by the Andes, the weather in the western reaches of the Amazon Rainforest is largely influenced by the Atlantic. Located thousands of kilometers from the Brazilian coast, the rain that does fall here - and there's a lot of it - is deprived of nutrients. The trickle-down effect of this accounts for low sodium concentrations in the tissues of plants. Unable to source this important mineral from their main diet like carnivores can, what are the herbivores, frugivores and nectarivores to do? What you see here is one of the clever ways butterflies have solved this problem!
Barn Owl, British Columbia
After coming across this derelict barn and discovering it was the active roost site of this Barn Owl, I immediately envisioned this shot. Actually realizing it ended up being a longer process than I initially anticipated. In efforts to not disturb the owl, I was only able to make necessary adjustments to gear once it exited the barn for the night. On many occasions, he would sleep in and emerge to greet his nearby mate well past dark. Finally, after many nights, I was eventually successful. Without getting too deep in the weeds of the technical aspect of this shot, here’s a brief explanation…
A long exposure of 30 seconds illuminated the sky and barn in the waning evening light. Just inside the hayloft window, I positioned a flash set to a very low power, with a warming gel to slightly change the colour temperature. The invisible beam of a LIDAR sensor was oriented vertically slightly further inside the barn. When the owl passed through, breaking the beam, my flash was triggered, capturing it frozen in flight.
Spectacled Bear, Ecuador
Before this past February, Spectacled Bear was probably my most wanted South American species - mammal or otherwise. Each time I went for a hike in the Andes, I would scan the large swaths of grasslands, longing to see a dark blob ambling between the tussocks of grass; hopefully heading in my direction. Despite spending a fair bit of time above tree-line in the ecoregion known as the páramo, where these bears are most easily seen, they continued to elude me. Like our North American Black Bear, Spectacled Bears are very adaptable and are found in a range of habitats, though they tend to show a penchant for the humid, grassy slopes flanking the high Andean peaks. I decided to make a concerted effort to see one of these amazing animals after my guiding had wrapped up in Ecuador. Long story short, after two days spent hiking, I finally had the opportunity to make this portrait. I’ll never forget locking eyes with this animal, nor will I forget the day spent navigating 50 degree gullies at 4000m elevation that made this possible. Thankfully the flights home gave me plenty of time to remove all the bromeliad spines from my arms!
Bare-throated Tiger-Heron, Costa Rica
The images I treasure most usually result from some kind of arduous endeavour. I think a strange part of me really enjoys the inherent suffering that comes with chasing the kinds of images that will end up among my yearly highlights. The notions of coming back empty-handed, struggling, and making mistakes, seem to me as appropriate parts of the whole process. With that said, sometimes you take a leisurely walk down to a river at dusk in the Costa Rican rainforest and are presented with a great opportunity, before returning to the lodge for a wonderful dinner… and that’s okay too! I’m not sure if karma exists, especially in the sphere of nature photography, but at times it sure feels like it does. While I’m sitting in the rain for hours, or a subject moves out of the perfect spot just before I click the shutter, I tell myself I’m just “paying the toll”.
Inca Tern, Peru
Without a doubt one of the world’s most beautiful seabirds! A species I was thrilled to finally see during a short stay in the Peruvian capital of Lima. A city of 12 million certainly doesn’t inspire thoughts of nature photography opportunities, but the Humboldt Current has something to say about that. The cold, nutrient-rich water flowing northward along the southwest coast of South America supports a tremendous amount of marine life. Of the avian varieties, I think this has to be my favourite.
Arctic Terns, Alaska
Famous for their world record migrations, most people have heard of the Arctic Tern. With long tail streamers, striking black caps and tiny legs (seriously, look at those ridiculous little things) I’ve been taken with these birds ever since I can remember. Having travelled from the southern ocean to their breeding grounds in the far north, this pair wasted no time in beginning their annual courtship activities. Pictured here, the male presents his mate with a tiny Pink Salmon fry. This pair-bonding ritual showcases his hunting proficiency that would soon become critical in successfully raising chicks.
Pacific Wren, British Columbia
Uncovering the initial signs of spring here in the temperate rainforest of the Pacific Northwest is undoubtedly my favourite part of the year. The first assurance that longer, warmer days are just around the corner comes in the form of this spirited little bird. Though Pacific Wrens are scarcely larger than a ping pong ball, their voices are impressive to say the least! Having spent the winter creeping like mice through the dense understory, they take to their favoured mossy pedestals to proclaim ownership over their territories. It seems nearly impossible that a creature so small can produce such an incredible series of trilling, tumbling notes - up to 36 per second here along the coast. From late winter into early summer, the darkest, dampest recesses of our forests are brightened by their contagious energy.
Great Grey Owl, British Columbia
Undoubtedly, one of my favourite times of year are the weeks I spend searching for Great Grey Owl nests in the Interior of BC. For the last while, this has become something of a tradition for Connor Stefanison and I. Even more-so during recent years, as folks from all around the world join us for photography adventures focused on Loons, Owls, and an assortment of other avian subjects. Thrilled to have located five active sites, our participants came away with some truly awesome images. My camera stayed tucked away for most of the time, but I did find a moment to make this portrait as a female peered inquisitively from behind the scorched trunk of a Douglas fir. No matter how many times I lock eyes with one of these amazing birds, it never becomes less special or memorable.
Peruvian Pelicans, Peru
During my annual trip to Peru, I spent a few extra days visiting the city of Lima to catch up with a good friend and do a bit of photography. The main goal for me was having close encounters with the seabirds that call the coastline home. A fish market proved to be an excellent spot to see these enormous birds.
I find it interesting how quite often, seemingly unrelated genres of photography can inspire one another, whether we’re conscious of it at the time or not. In this case, by shooting upwards from a low perspective, using a wide angle lens and a flash, I had in mind the typical cheesy rock band album cover photo. You know the ones where each member stands slightly askew, all with brooding expressions on their faces? I’ve found shooting these sorts of constantly changing, layered scenes to be one of the most difficult and engaging types of wildlife photography - perhaps my favourite. As a side note, on this same morning I found out that an aggressive Peruvian Pelican can fit a Canon 5D Mark III and a human head (mine) inside its pouch. None of these enormous birds were amused by my lack of fish...
Peruvian Pelican, Peru
Creating close-up images of the high breeding plumage colours and patterns was a lot of fun. When I’m afforded close enough opportunities, I jump at any chance to play with small extractions of a subject.
Pied-billed Grebe, British Columbia
Grebes have long since been one of my favourite subjects to photograph each spring as they don their breeding season finery and begin to proclaim ownership over their weedy patch of pond. In my experience, Pied-billed Grebes have been the more timid of the bunch, and before this spring I hadn’t had much luck photographing them. Focused on Ruddy Ducks this spring while scouting for a workshop, a pair of these striking birds inadvertently surfaced within an arm’s reach. Chest deep in the water with my lens positioned a few centimetres above the surface, I was treated to a few minutes of shooting, just before the sun dipped behind a ridge. Before long, the pair sank beneath the surface like tiny submarines and I extracted my self from the muck in a far less elegant fashion.
Sooty Grouse, British Columbia
Often confused for an owl, the resonant vocalizations of Sooty Grouse can carry an incredible distance across the steep mountain slopes of the Pacific Northwest. In hopes of attracting a mate and warding off any would-be competitors, males advertise their presence from the tallest conifers; beginning in late winter, lasting well into summer. When displaying for females on the ground, their tails fan out, their eyebrows raise, and patches of skin on either side of their neck known as apteria are exposed. The colour can change from a dull yellow to a vibrant saffron orange in a matter of seconds. They are truly one of our most bizarre birds! It’s always exciting to see several male Sooty Grouse strutting their stuff during my annual Manning Park Photo Workshop.
Snowshoe Hare, British Columbia
Snowshoeing in the mountains of British Columbia can be an incredibly peaceful experience. Some of my best memories in the outdoors have been made alone on cold mornings, with a blanket of fresh snow coating the landscape. Though as someone pursuing wildlife, the utter stillness and quiet can be simultaneously maddening. How is it that anything can subsist in a world where metres of snow conceal seemingly all but the tall trees? Where are they hiding? It isn’t until one trains their eyes to decipher the narrative that’s directly underfoot, or “reading the white book” as I’ve heard it called, that the unseen goings on reveal themselves. The tracks, droppings and other clues left behind by a surprising number of denizens of these cold, seemingly lonely places tell otherwise.
The tracks I see most often are those of hares. Forming the main prey base for mammals such as the Canada Lynx and birds like Great Horned Owls, the Snowshoe Hare is one of the most important species in this environment. Populations are dictated by a boom-bust cycle that occurs over the course of 8-11 years. When the hare population burgeons, as do the populations of the predators reliant upon them as a winter food source.
On this particular evening, just before darkness overcame the valley in which I too was snowshoeing, I enjoyed several minutes with this surprisingly bold hare who didn’t seem to mind my company. I can still remember the sound of its sharp incisors nipping off the low boughs of Engelmann spruce saplings.
Sora, British Columbia
A bird more often heard than seen, the Sora is a cryptic resident of marshes across the continent. While cruising a backroad with the windows down, I heard the distinctive call emanating from a sedge marsh. Grabbing my chest waders and a throw blind, before long I was doing my best to appear like a soggy stump. Using those disproportionately long toes to dart its way across floating vegetation and logs, this beautiful little guy afforded me a few quick opportunities as the late afternoon light revealed his many intricate patterns and colours.