A royal spoonbill using its distinctive large bill to delicately glean invertebrates from the leaves of a small mangrove seedling. Taken with a Canon 1D Mark IV, EF600mm f/4L IS USM +1.4x tele converter, 1/400 s exposure at f10, ISO 400.
This photo of a royal spoonbill (Platalea regia) is one of several I was pleased to make one evening at Miranda, Firth of Thames (you can see more spoonbill photos here). I hadn’t given spoonbills much thought when I went to this internationally significant wetland that day. I was hoping for one of a couple of rarities that had been sighted recently in the area. But, one of the things I love about Miranda, and why I have been there so many times, is that it always seems to present new subjects and opportunities.
Although royal spoonbills can be viewed at close quarters in some parts of New Zealand, I’ve always found them to be rather timid in most parts of the upper North Island where I most often meet them. On this occasion a small flock that had been feeding well out of range on an incoming tide flew cooperatively toward me as the evening light began to mature. Using a low bank and tall grass for cover, I was able to quickly move so the actively feeding birds were within range of my lens. As the sun neared the horizon I focussed my attention on one spoonbill as it worked intently around a small mangrove seeding, feeling with its sensitive bill for crabs and other prey that might shelter there. A small crab was sieved from the murky water and unceremoniously swallowed. The spoonbill then used its odd looking bill to delicately comb each leaf of the plant, presumably gleaning small invertebrates. I was surprised by the dexterity it displayed, and pleased to come away with what I think is a nice composition. Notice the bird is off-centre. Putting the subject smack in the middle of the frame is a mistake many beginners make. Doing so can create a static image that fails to capture attention, or an awkward tension that just doesn’t sit well. Putting space in front of the subject suggests room for to move to and crates a more dynamic composition. Of course, like all ‘rules’ in photography there are times to break this one, but if you don’t know why, it’s generally not a good idea.
Headshot of a tui bird deep in a dense shrub. Taken with a Canon 1D Mark IV, EF300mm f/2.8L IS USM +1.4x tele converter, 1/125 s exposure at f5.6, ISO 1250, hand-held.
Tui are one of New Zealand’s most well known and loved birds. Their dark, iridescent body, finished with a delicate scarf of lacy white feathers is unlike any other New Zealand bird, and their song is rich and varied. If you listen carefully it might seem that no two sound exactly alike.
Because they are relatively common, and generally quite bold, they are a popular subject for bird photographers. Indeed, I have many hundreds of photos of them (and have written a short article on them with a few tips for photographers), and may go out tomorrow to try to improve on the classic, perhaps cliché image of tui feeding on dense kowhai blossom. The trick then is in trying to create a unique image that might stand out a little from the rest. The image here is one I made a few months ago on Tiritiri Matangi Island. Tiri is a great place to photograph native birds, and I’ve spent several weeks there. I particularly like this image because of the way the bird, with its inquisitive posture is framed by soft, out of focus elements. He was singing deep in a kawakawa shrub and quite hard to see. I knew a clear shot of the whole bird wasn’t going to work. Even if I could see it all, the background would have been full of distracting branches and bright leaf reflections. Instead I used my 300/2.8 lens with a 1.4x teleconverter (giving me a 420 mm lens) to give a relatively narrow field of view, and hand-held so I could quickly make the tiny adjustments needed to get the balance and composition I was looking for, through anarrow gap in the shrub it was in. The outstanding high ISO performance of the Canon 1D Mark IV combined with an Image Stabilised lens really paid off here.
I like this shot, but if you’d like to let me know what you think (good or bad), feel free to leave a comment on my Facebook Page or Flickr Photostream
Male common chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs) makes an attractive subject that is often overlooked simply because it is so common. Taken with a Canon 1D Mark IV, EF300mm f/2.8L IS USM +1.4x tele converter, 1/250 s exposure at f6.3, ISO 800.
The late Geoff Moon — probably New Zealand’s most well known bird photographer — once mentioned to me that no one photographs common birds like sparrows, and consequently there are few really nice photos of them. This was an interesting observation to a budding bird photographer. Why focus solely on the rare and unusual when the subject is only one component of a successful image? It can be far more educational to hone ones skills on subjects that are easier to find, and often more approachable. Practice makes perfect, and removing the rarity aspect from the viewfinder encourages you to pay more attention to the crucial elements of a successful photo; light, composition, and technical proficiency.
The common chaffinch is the second most widespread bird in New Zealand. They are also really beautiful little birds, especially the males. The photo above is one of several I made recently that highlights a few points that aspiring photographers might like to consider.
1. Choose your subject carefully
I had stopped at a picnic area a little off the main route, and within a few minutes several chaffinches came searching for ripening grass seeds. Chaffinches can be as flighty as any bird, but like all birds, individuals have different personalities. Choosing the best subject can mean considering which looks the best, is on the best perch, has the best background, or is in the nicest light. It also needs consideration of which is the most approachable. On this occasion they were hopping around just inches from my feet. According to the EXIF data, the male above was only 2.9 m away (in fact, it was often too close to focus on, and I could have used a much shorter and closer focussing lens, but I wanted to use the narrow field of view of the longish lens). Finding individuals that are more confiding than most is one of the secrets to getting images that stand out from the rest.
2. Be aware of the angle of view
Shooting from the subjects eye level is one of the best ways to convey a sense of intimacy, bringing the viewer into the scene. Chaffinches are small birds, so when they are on the ground this means getting very low. My tripods go low, but sometimes even 15 cm is too high and resting the lens just on my hand is what’s needed. The out of focus foreground in the photo above is grass just a few cm tall between the lens and bird, I was that low! Generally, the lower you go, the further away your background will become, and as a consequence it will be more out of focus. This helps reduce the distraction of busy backgrounds and makes the subject stand out more. Nothing shouts “snap shot” more than a photo looking steeply down or up at a bird in busy surroundings.
3. Be adaptable
I prefer to shoot from a tripod whenever possible. Image quality is almost always better. When a female chaffinch flew up to the low branches of a nearby tree though, I knew I wouldn’t have time to reset my tripod. Much quicker to undo the quick release and handhold a few shots, knowing that the lens’ Image Stabilisation would help me out. It’s not how I usually shoot, but it paid off.
I spent a few days in Northland last month photographing for a magazine article (more on that later). As is so often the norm for nature photographers, I was up before first light searching for an interesting subject, and hoping for nice light. It had been a wet start to autumn, so the ephemeral Lake Ohia was high, and after a cool clear night mist rose gently from the water surface. Careful planning and preparation had me comfortably in warm waders, so I was able to concentrate on photography.
Red percher dragonfly (Diplacodes bipunctata) covered with drops of dew at sunrise. Taken with a Canon 1D Mark IV, EF180mm f/3.5L macro, 0.4 second exposure at f22, ISO 200.
As the world brightened, it became clear that the clouds were too few and in the wrong place for the stunning sunrise landscape I was hoping for, so I had to take a closer look at what I had to work with. I noticed spider webs and insects adorned with beads of dew hanging from sedges, torpid in the cool morning air. I worked to find a dragonfly that I could get a clear view of. I wanted to use the natural soft light of sunrise, so a tripod was mandatory to prevent camera shake at the required slow shutter speed. I had to carefully position the legs of the tripod, trying not to disturb the subject. With close-up photography, camera movements of just a few millimeters can completely change a composition, so this was a delicate process. My 180 mm macro lens gave me a little more working room compared to shorter macro lenses, and the narrower field of view allowed me to create a less cluttered background—both very useful in a fragile tangle of vegetation like this. As the first rays of sunlight lit the lake I worked quickly to make as many different images as possible—backlit, direct front lighting, even swapping the macro lens for a wide angle to include more of the surroundings. You can see some of them in my dragonfly album. The photo here is one of my favourites from that morning, although another was ultimately chosen for the magazine. I like this one for the warmth of the light and the clean background.
There are lots of photography ‘rules’ regularly parroted, as if breaking one would have the flashing lights of the photo police soon appearing in your viewfinder. Golden hour light directly over your shoulder, head angle three degrees toward you, remember the rule of thirds or it’ll be a night in the cell for you! To confuse the budding nature photographer a bit more we have the other side saying “be different, break the rules”. However, while some are really just handy guides, many of the rules are based on solid foundations buried deep in the human psyche, and ignoring them entirely often leads to a pile of photographs that are just not nice to look at. Knowing a bit about why the rules work, and when and how to bend them can open new photographic opportunities.
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