Meet our latest house guest – Mr Fox. After 3 months of observing the garden at night via our remote camera trap and beginning to lose hope of seeing any foxes, he turned up. What’s more – he was a bit of a show off in front of the camera too. Fingers crossed he returns soon. It just goes to show – patience does pay 🙂
Two Arctic hares on the rocky hillside overlooking Blomsterbukten, eastern Greenland. This shot is important to me because of what happened before, and illustrates why wildlife photographers need to understand nature perhaps more than they need to understand photography.
Arriving on the coast via Zodiac, we split into rough groups and walked up a shallow valley to reach the lake over the hill. One small group caught a glimpse of something white on the valley slope – it was September, so the Greenland coast was free of snow. A hare! In glorious white, quietly watching the scene.
Most people know hares and rabbits are very skittish and will disappear in a flash, so we slowly got prepared to set up a photograph, no sudden movements, taking time to be quiet and unobtrusive. Except for one fellow traveller. Zoom lens up, he walked directly toward the hare, perhaps unaware of his pace as he tried to grab the shot. People who are familiar working with animals may empathise when I say I could ‘feel’ the danger zone around the hare, the circumference line where it would bolt if anything crossed into its territory. I winced as I saw the photographer cross over my invisible line, and bang – the hare was up and over the crest of the hill, out of sight.
The group shrugged and walked on while I bristled at the lack of respect for the residents of this region, a place where we were visitors, guests. This, though, became my mission. I splintered off from the group and circled round to the other side of the hill, ascending slowly and always keeping eyes peeled. When you do this you become aware of the time elapsed, and start to feel downtrodden as the slow travel just adds minutes and metres to the hare’s escape.
As I peeped over the hill, I froze. Barely 10 metres in front me, TWO HARES! A blessing, a reward. I unfolded my tripod very slowly (for video stabilisation rather than stills) and settled down. The three of us sat quietly on the hillside overlooking the majestic Greenland scenery for a good 25 minutes – they played, cleaned, chewed, and as here, gazed into each other’s eyes, before bouncing off around the corner. I didn’t follow them – this is their place.
I descended back the way I’d came and walked round to join the group – no animal sightings for them, and it turns out Marie was having a wild time taking landscape shots while unconsciously sinking slowly into a sticky, muddy bog. I was pleased – I think I took the right path, but it was a mental path, not just a physical one. Approaching your wildlife photography with respect, caution, and patience is rewarding in the images you can create, and in the lift it gives your soul. Those 25 minutes are very special to me not because of the photos, but because the hares allowed me into their home.
This is Mr Crotchety Pants, he lives around Lower Sabie in Kruger National Parks and he does not like me one bit! When I say he doesn’t like me – it’s not like he’s taken a slight dislike , he REALLY does not like me – to the extent that he almost ran us off the road. Here’s how I lived to tell the tale…
It was a lovely afternoon – the sun was beginning to lower and the temperature had become very pleasant. We set out from camp for a game drive and decided to take a nearby loop road to enjoy the last few hours of the day. Barely a few km down the road we saw a HUGE bull elephant standing beside this tree. Due to the low vegetation height we saw him in plenty time and parked a very respectful distance from him to see if he’d walk on. I was the driver that afternoon and really did not want to scare the mother-in-law too much by driving too close (she was in the front passenger seat beside me).
As the elephant started to amble toward the road it became evident that we’d need to wait this out – as there was no way I was going to try and squeeze past him to continue our drive – nor was I too keen on getting any closer. So I popped the engine into neutral and we waited patiently. After about ten minutes we’d started to form quite a queue of traffic behind us and I was worried that, on this single track road, the other drivers might start getting very impatient (unfortunately not many people are that respectful of elephants and will happily drive on quickly by). It was at this exact moment that I recalled how closely packed the row of cars behind us was that the elephant took an immediate dislike to me. He swung to face us head on. Standing in the middle of the dirt track, ears spread wide he raised his trunk towards us. The sense of annoyance was intense. With a very meaningful and not well intentioned gait he started to stomp towards us – throwing out his right front leg to the side as he approached. It became very clear that this was a very unhappy ellie. I had no chose but to start the engine up – something that rattled him even more and he sped up, coming closer every second. My heart was racing and adrenaline was pumping through my body – I threw the car into reverse gear but had no where to go as the car behind was right up my jacksie. I started to gesticulate to the driver behind – but he seemed oblivious – it was only when he saw the elephant through our front window that he realised that hulk of grey was not bad weather in the sky, but a very angry bull. Regardless, I decided that I could not afford to wait any longer – I was petrified. I started to reverse, figuring that the worst that could happen is that I forcefully push the guy behind me back and have a dented rear-end for the pleasure. Thankfully the driver behind got the message – and he too started to reverse into the guy behind him – it felt like the slowest chain reaction in the world.
After reversing a good distance back we thought that might placate the elephant. It didn’t. We had a glorious couple of minutes to settle our beating hearts before the whole scenario repeated itself… three more time! I desperately wanted to do a three point turn – but the road was so narrow there that I could not afford the time to turn – in seconds he’d be bearing down upon us again. It’s on this day that I became very accomplished at reversing!
After what felt like a very long time, and many grey hairs later, I was afforded a few minutes to turn the car around on a slightly wider piece of road – this allowed all the cars behind to get a good view of Mr Crotchety Pants and caused an immediate reaction – three cars turned on their heels and sped off, dust billowing behind them. I wasted no time in following suit. Mr Crotchety Pants became the undisputed king of the road!
Further trip reports from Africa are available here.
Photos from our trip to Kruger National Park are available in our Taraji Blue online photo gallery.
I cannot believe that I have not yet blogged about the thing that first got me into photography… the detail you can see in the eyes of animals.
Way back when, armed with our first digital 30D camera, I became obsessed with the quality of the camera and the amount of detail it would render. The one image that firmly lead me on the road to this obsession was this image (above) taken by my husband, Alistair Knock during a husky sledding holiday in Sweden. I loved the clarity of his reflection in the pupil of the husky. It showed the relationship we had built up with the animal and how close it allowed us to get to him. This got me thinking – what relationships could I build up with other animals and how could I reflect this in photography? This spawned many years of work where I strove hard to spend time with my subjects, allowing them to be curious of me and for us to get close to each other.
Below I showcase a few of my successful images. Hopefully more are yet to come.
Whilst staying at feynan EcoLodge in Wadi Dana (Jordan) we took the opportunity to wander the valley floor. We amused ourselves for an entire afternoon, tracking musical songbirds in the dry trees of the once riverbed and locating crickets in the sparse and thorny undergrowth. It was hard work and we stopped after an hour or two to rest by a lonely boulder above the desert floor and surveyed the scenery around us. We’d been so busy looking for bugs and birdlife that we’d failed to see a young girl who’d been gradually approaching us, collecting the few dry twigs she could find for firewood. I didn’t hesitate to raise my hand and offer a friendly wave – she did likewise and then continued about her business. Feeling brave, I decided to go and meet her, and Ali and I started to gather any twigs we could find, approaching her a wee while later with arms full of bundles of sticks. As we approached and held them out to her, she beamed with happiness and enthusiastically offered our gifts, thanking us over and over in Arabic. She gestured for us to follow her across the sands, and we did so, continuing to collect twigs and sticks on the way. We saw in the haze of the valley, an silhouette of a tent in the distance.
So generous, was the family of two teenage girls, one baby and the mother, that they greeted us quite literally with open arms and immediately paraded their goat through the tent and offered us its milk followed by Jordan tea. Ali and I nodded wholeheartedly, keen to experience more of the Jordanian hospitality.
Whilst enjoying the tea and cooling off in the shade of the tent during the heat of the day, we chatted on our own native languages, yet seemingly understanding each other. As comfortable in our chatter as we were in our collective silences, we got to know one another. I took the opportunity to suggest that we hand them our digital camera to show them the images we’d taken on the holiday to date. They gently took the heavy camera from us, bemused at to what was to come next. Ali showed them the screen and how to navigate the images and we took them through a little slideshow of Petra, Amman, Jerash and Wadi Rum. Their eyes widened as the pictures unfolded and then they hooted with laughter as they saw the pictures we’d taken that morning. They could not believe we’d spent the morning taking pictures of crickets, common birds and most of all, their goats – they could not stop giggling. Assuming we had some uncontrollable goat fetish, they then proceeded to introduce us to all their goats which had, by this time, surrounded the tent in curiosity. I felt almost embarrassed – but their laughter was well intended and served to break any cultural and language barriers that might have existed. We laughed together until the heat of the afternoon calmed and we bid then farewell, thanking them immensely for their generosity – and them thanking us once more for the sticks and goat pictures. As we walked away into the distance I kept turning to see the tent once more, and they’d still be stood there, waving us goodbye. They were a lovely family, so kind, so hospitable and so gentle. I felt privileged and proud to have met them. They had really ‘made’ my holiday and gave me lifelong memories, lessons and experiences to cherish.
More images from our travels to Jordan are available in our Taraji Blue Jordan photo gallery.
