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Not reacting to unexpected sounds and movements is also necessary. It’s counter-intuitive: I’m training myself to click at the slightest change, yet I must ignore some inputs while staying alert to others. I react only to the subject in front of me; everything else, I become transparent to. A coconut thuds nearby? The animal will react, I shouldn’t. In fact, I should be ready to click if it reacts in an interesting way. Ants biting my legs? It’s a battle of my pain threshold vs ant’s vengeance. Ants usually win after a while though. Another habit I’ve developed is to talk to the animals. Not a loud conversation of course, but just whispering things like “oh hello, sorry didn’t see ya there, it’s cool. You know me” at the egrets. It helps me to become a gentler version of myself. I love talking to owls. They don’t give a hoot. Another is knowing how to use the features of the habitat itself for my advantage: to hide behind a tree, or to duck behind a compound or to lie flat within the tall grass. There are no rules here, the only upper limit is my comfort and safety. Yet another perspective is to learn to be slow and very very deliberate in my movements. For each step I lose a field of awareness, a field of view that’s no longer visible to me and I gain a newer area that comes to my awareness. As I move, I need to be aware of the field of view I’m uncovering to see what might be lurking there. 

Not reacting to unexpected sounds and movements is also necessary. It’s counter-intuitive: I’m training myself to click at the slightest change, yet I must ignore some inputs while staying alert to others. I react only to the subject in front of me; everything else, I become transparent to. A coconut thuds nearby? The animal will react, I shouldn’t. In fact, I should be ready to click if it reacts in an interesting way. Ants biting my legs? It’s a battle of my pain threshold vs ant’s vengeance. Ants usually win after a while though. Another habit I’ve developed is to talk to the animals. Not a loud conversation of course, but just whispering things like “oh hello, sorry didn’t see ya there, it’s cool. You know me” at the egrets. It helps me to become a gentler version of myself. I love talking to owls. They don’t give a hoot. Another is knowing how to use the features of the habitat itself for my advantage: to hide behind a tree, or to duck behind a compound or to lie flat within the tall grass. There are no rules here, the only upper limit is my comfort and safety. Yet another perspective is to learn to be slow and very very deliberate in my movements. For each step I lose a field of awareness, a field of view that’s no longer visible to me and I gain a newer area that comes to my awareness. As I move, I need to be aware of the field of view I’m uncovering to see what might be lurking there. 

ಈ ಲೇಖನ ಕನ್ನಡಲ್ಲೂ ಇದೆ, ದಯವಿಟ್ಟು ಪುಠದ ಕೊನೆಯ ಭಾಗಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಗಿ / This article is available in Kannada language as well, kindly scroll to the end of the English article.

When trying to capture a photo of a bird or a snake or a mongoose, I’m dealing with two systems. One: the subject, let’s say a mongoose in its habitat. Another is I, the photographer in my body-mind. Capturing any meaningful photo is a kind of meditation that needs a certain harmony of both the external environment and my inner environment. 

I absolutely cannot control the external environment. I can attempt certain tricks, but the harder I try, it’ll become a “studio” shot, and the “wild” in wildlife photography no longer becomes relevant. So that leaves only me as the variable to play with. This is where my practice becomes crucial. Using the word “control” is perhaps the wrong one, it’s more like “knowing”. 

Another habit I’ve developed is to talk to the animals. Not a loud conversation of course, but just whispering things like “oh hello, sorry didn’t see ya there, it’s cool. You know me” at the egrets. It helps me to become a gentler version of myself. I love talking to owls. They don’t give a hoot. 

Another is knowing how to use the features of the habitat itself for my advantage: to hide behind a tree, or to duck behind a compound or to lie flat within the tall grass. There are no rules here, the only upper limit is my comfort and safety. 

Yet another perspective is to learn to be slow and very very deliberate in my movements. For each step I lose a field of awareness, a field of view that’s no longer visible to me and I gain a newer area that comes to my awareness. As I move, I need to be aware of the field of view I’m uncovering to see what might be lurking there. 

A fundamental trick is to know how different animals react to one another. At the first sign of a dog far away, the mongoose either bolts to nearby safety or stands on its hind legs to gain a better vantage point, which makes a great shot. Bulbuls fly when a pigeon approaches. It’s rare to see two egrets tolerating each other when they come for a sip of water. Crows and babblers share a space with no qualms. 

Another thing to know is the habitat of animals and their preferences. Entering a pond area? Almost guaranteed to see an egret or a heron. Move fast, and I’ll scare them away. If I’m ignorant then their sudden movements will scare me! Walking along the paddy fields? Watch out for a peafowl to fly away out of nowhere from the hidden tall grass. Crossing a narrow stream of water in the monsoon? I might get to see a keelback if I’m slow enough. 

2. No interfering with the natural order. Each animal has to eat, and I cannot interfere with that, however brutal it may feel. 

3. If I sense that my presence is making the animal jittery, I walk away. That photo can wait. Video need not be captured. Mistakes do happen, but I learn. 

Last one but perhaps the most important one is not to give up. I still haven’t managed to click the cliched shot of kingfisher fishing out the fish nor have I managed the picture of the stand off between a cobra and the mongoose. I know I will keep at it. 

There are many aspects to this play. I’ll go one by one, in no particular order.First, the tool. The camera. I need to know at the least, a minimal set of operational mastery to get the right amount of light captured, in the right frame. The more I practice, the more natural it becomes to make this my “default” frame and start with optimal default settings, the exposure, balance of camera and the composition. Then, knowing my own habits and learning to overcome them. One such example: I have a tendency to click a burst of two shots and stop. I have no idea why I stop at two and not go on until the camera stops. I’ve missed many possible good action shots because of this habit. So, I’ve made a practice to explicitly set an intention to click as many as I can. I’m getting better, one missed opportunity at a time. 

Then there is breathing. I have to hold my breath to be steady in order to click when things happen. Thus a certain amount of breath control is necessary too. Then the ability to hold the camera steady for a long while, especially when I’m not using a support like tripod or resting my hands on a tree stump. I can now hold the camera more or less steady for up to 5-6 minutes, excruciating pain notwithstanding. My maximum record is 12 minutes waiting for the peacock to take off from my rooftop. It didn’t. 

Next up: my movements. It took a while to truly understand that I am a foreign entity for the animals when I enter their habitat. I mostly shoot backyard wildlife in our shared habitat, such as the garden, the nearby pond or the paddy fields. Even if it’s a shared habitat, animals are more at ease when I appear less threatening. What does “less threatening” mean to each animal varies. I need to learn one species at a time, sometimes it varies even with individual animals. Some tolerate me being fairly close, like bulbuls and babblers while a cormorant flies away at the first sign of me approaching. So, it’s trial and error as well as being aware of each movement of mine. With certain rat snakes, we’ve become completely non-threatening to each other. Just two living things chilling around. 

Not reacting to unexpected sounds and movements is also necessary. It’s counter-intuitive: I’m training myself to click at the slightest change, yet I must ignore some inputs while staying alert to others. I react only to the subject in front of me; everything else, I become transparent to. A coconut thuds nearby? The animal will react, I shouldn’t. In fact, I should be ready to click if it reacts in an interesting way. Ants biting my legs? It’s a battle of my pain threshold vs ant’s vengeance. Ants usually win after a while though.

ಪ್ರಾಣಿ ಪಕ್ಷಿಗಳ ಛಾಯಾಚಿತ್ರ ತೆಗೆಯುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ ಮಾಡುವಾಗ ನಾನು ಎರಡು ವಿಷಯಗಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ವ್ಯವಹರಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ. ಒಂದು: ಪ್ರಾಣಿ ಮತ್ತು ಅದರ ಪರಿಸರ. ಇನ್ನೊಂದು : ನಾನು ಮತ್ತು ನನ್ನ ಆಂತರಿಕ ಪರಿಸರ, ಮನಸ್ಸು ಮತ್ತು ದೇಹ. ಅರ್ಥವತ್ತಾದ ಛಾಯಾಚಿತ್ರ ತೆಗೆಯಲು ಈ ಎರಡು ವಿಷಯಗಳು ಒಂದು ತರಹದ ಸಮರಸ್ಯದೊಂದಿಗೆ ನೃತ್ಯ ಮಾಡಬೇಕಾಗುತ್ತದೆ. 

Not reacting to unexpected sounds and movements is also necessary. It’s counter-intuitive: I’m training myself to click at the slightest change, yet I must ignore some inputs while staying alert to others. I react only to the subject in front of me; everything else, I become transparent to. A coconut thuds nearby? The animal will react, I shouldn’t. In fact, I should be ready to click if it reacts in an interesting way. Ants biting my legs? It’s a battle of my pain threshold vs ant’s vengeance. Ants usually win after a while though. Another habit I’ve developed is to talk to the animals. Not a loud conversation of course, but just whispering things like “oh hello, sorry didn’t see ya there, it’s cool. You know me” at the egrets. It helps me to become a gentler version of myself. I love talking to owls. They don’t give a hoot. Another is knowing how to use the features of the habitat itself for my advantage: to hide behind a tree, or to duck behind a compound or to lie flat within the tall grass. There are no rules here, the only upper limit is my comfort and safety. Yet another perspective is to learn to be slow and very very deliberate in my movements. For each step I lose a field of awareness, a field of view that’s no longer visible to me and I gain a newer area that comes to my awareness. As I move, I need to be aware of the field of view I’m uncovering to see what might be lurking there.