Stop Photographing Birds You Find
I know how strange that sounds.
You go out with a camera to photograph birds. You walk through a forest, along a trail or around a wetland looking for them.
You finally find one.
You lift the camera.
Isn’t that exactly what bird photography is supposed to be?
For a long time, I thought so too.
But over the years I’ve started to realise that finding a bird and finding a photograph are two completely different things.
And understanding that difference has probably changed my photography more than any new camera or lens ever has.
The Bird Usually Gets All the Attention
When we see a bird, especially an exciting species, something happens.
Everything else disappears.
There could be a bright branch crossing the background. Harsh sunlight could be falling across half the bird. The perch might be messy. The angle might be terrible.
But none of that seems to matter because...
There’s the bird.
So we photograph it.
I still do this sometimes.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with taking a record shot of a bird you are excited to see.
But if I’m trying to make a photograph that I will still care about months or years later, I try to do something different.
Instead of asking:
Where is the bird?
I start asking:
Where is the photograph?
That small change in thinking makes a huge difference.
Sometimes I Find the Photograph First
Imagine walking through a forest early in the morning.
You haven't seen anything particularly exciting yet.
Then you notice a branch.
The background behind it is distant and clean. There is soft light hitting one side of the perch. Maybe there are berries nearby, flowers, fruit, or insects.
There isn't a bird there.
Most photographers keep walking.
I often stop.
Because that empty branch might be more interesting to me than a bird sitting somewhere else in terrible light.
Now I start looking around.
Are birds moving through this area?
Is there food nearby?
Have I seen anything land on that branch?
Is there another position where the background becomes even cleaner?
Where is the light coming from?
And then comes the difficult part.
I wait.
Sometimes nothing happens.
But sometimes a bird lands exactly where I hoped it would.
And suddenly I am not reacting to a photograph.
I was ready for it before it existed.
Look for Food Before You Look for Birds
One of the most useful things wildlife photography has taught me is to stop searching only for animals.
Start searching for what animals need.
Food is an obvious example.
A fruiting tree in the tropics can look completely uninteresting when you first arrive.
Then the activity starts.
One bird comes in.
Then another.
Maybe toucans appear. Tanagers move through the branches. A hummingbird investigates nearby flowers.
Instead of chasing each bird individually, you have found the reason they are there.
The same applies to flowers, insects, water, nesting material and favourite perches.
Learning to recognise these things changes the way you move through the landscape.
You stop thinking:
Where can I find a bird?
And start thinking:
Why would a bird come here?
That is a much more powerful question.
Watch What Happens Twice
Bird behaviour can look completely random when you first arrive somewhere.
Usually, it isn't.
A bird flies to one branch.
Leaves.
Ten minutes later it returns.
That should get your attention.
A hummingbird visits the same flowers in roughly the same order.
A kingfisher repeatedly uses one exposed perch.
A toucan returns to the same fruiting tree.
A small bird disappears into the same section of vegetation several times.
These patterns are incredibly valuable.
You don't need to predict everything an animal is going to do.
You only need to notice what it likes doing again.
If something happens once, I watch.
If it happens twice, I start getting ready.
By the third time, I want to be waiting rather than reacting.
That means I can think about my exposure, shutter speed, background and composition before the bird arrives.
And when it does arrive, I am not desperately trying to solve everything in two seconds.
I can concentrate on the moment.
Stop Following the Bird for a Minute
This is probably one of the hardest habits to break.
A bird moves.
We move.
The bird moves again.
We move again.
Before long, we are following it through branches, changing angles constantly and hoping that eventually everything lines up.
Sometimes that works.
But sometimes the better decision is to stop.
Let the bird disappear.
Watch where it goes.
See whether it comes back.
Look at the environment rather than through the viewfinder.
I have missed photographs doing this.
But I have also made photographs I probably wouldn't have made if I had continued chasing every movement.
There is a strange confidence that comes from deciding:
This is where I want the photograph to happen.
Now the bird gets to decide whether it agrees.
The Background Comes Before the Bird
A beautiful bird cannot always rescue a bad background.
But a simple background can transform an ordinary moment.
This is why I often move before I photograph.
Sometimes a step to the left removes a bright patch.
Getting slightly lower can put distant vegetation behind the bird instead of tangled branches.
Moving a little farther away can completely change the relationship between the subject and its surroundings.
The bird hasn't changed.
Your photograph has.
This is something worth practising even when you aren't photographing a rare species.
In fact, common birds might be the best subjects for learning it.
When the pressure of photographing something rare disappears, you can concentrate on everything else.
Light.
Background.
Perch.
Position.
Behaviour.
Timing.
Those are the things you can control.
The bird isn't.
Rare Doesn't Automatically Mean Better
This took me a while to understand.
As wildlife photographers, we naturally get excited about rare or difficult species.
And we should.
Seeing them can be extraordinary.
But rarity and photographic quality are not the same thing.
I would rather have a beautifully composed photograph of a common bird doing something interesting than a technically poor photograph of an extremely rare bird.
Of course, if the rare bird appears, I'm still going to photograph it.
I'm a wildlife photographer, not a monk.
But I try not to let the name of the species decide whether the photograph is good.
The photograph still has to work.
Arrive With a Photograph in Your Head
There is an exercise I think every bird photographer should try.
The next time you go out, spend the first ten minutes not photographing anything.
Look for a place instead.
Find good light.
Find a clean background.
Find an interesting perch.
Look for food or activity.
Think about where you would like a bird to appear.
Then prepare for that photograph.
Set your exposure.
Choose your position.
Check the background.
Wait.
You might come home with nothing.
That is always possible with wildlife.
But if a bird does arrive, something interesting happens.
For once, you aren't trying to catch up with the moment.
The moment comes to you.
This Isn't Really About Taking Fewer Photographs
I don't think there is anything wrong with taking lots of photographs.
Digital cameras have given us an incredible freedom to experiment.
This isn't about forcing yourself to press the shutter less.
It's about becoming more deliberate about where you point the camera in the first place.
There is a difference.
The goal isn't fewer photographs.
The goal is fewer photographs that never really had a chance.
The Best Bird Photography Happens Before the Bird Arrives
Camera settings matter.
Autofocus matters.
Lenses matter.
Technique matters.
But the longer I photograph wildlife, the more I think some of the most important decisions happen before any of those things become important.
Where you stand.
What you notice.
What you ignore.
Whether you recognise a pattern.
Whether you see the light.
Whether you are willing to wait.
And whether you can look at an empty branch and imagine the photograph that could happen there.
So the next time you go out with your camera, try something different.
Don't immediately photograph every bird you find.
Look around first.
Find the light.
Find the background.
Find the food.
Find the perch.
Watch what the birds are doing.
Then choose where you want the photograph to happen.
And wait.
Because sometimes the biggest change in bird photography comes when you stop asking:
Where is the bird?
And start asking:
Where is the photograph?
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