When instructing a workshop or working with an individual client, I begin by raising the topic of ethics. Some folks are already on board or think they are, but I have found that many are not familiar with the depth and importance of practicing sound, ethical photographic techniques.
My most appalling experience having to do with ethics occurred about 35 years ago, during my first year of photography. That autumn, I visited a local park and struck up a conversation with another visitor with a camera.
We began walking together and came across a large bull elk (Cervus canadensis) ahead on the trail. I stopped short as I noticed the animal’s dominant posture and body language, which suggested he could become aggressive: He had stiffened legs, laid-back ears, and flared nostrils, and he was dipping his head down and flaunting his massive antlers. My new acquaintance continued moving toward the animal to capture a close-up view with a relatively short lens. Horrified, I suggested that he was getting too close, but I was too late. The bull turned, locked his eyes on the intruder, and charged and chased the photographer around and around a tree as I gawked. Thankfully, the elk lost interest and walked away, and the moment de-escalated.
Though I do not have a photograph, the extreme event serves as a reminder to always watch and respect wildlife and ensure that we always have an exit path to safety. Using ethical techniques does not need to involve as significant of an incident as my example. Any human activity that negatively affects the behavior or reaction of wildlife counts as an ethics violation practice in my book. Alyce Bender’s feature “Photograph as if Everyone is Watching” in the Winter 2022 issue of the Journal examines the topic thoroughly.
Much of my current work involves photographing from professional photo blinds on private property. Because I am stationary and sitting behind a sheer, camouflage curtain, this technique minimizes the risk of stumbling upon a subject that might be hunting, eating, courting, nesting, or protecting its family. However, I still employ methods to ensure that the wildlife is safe, such as keeping noise and movement to a minimum.
Transitioning to mirrorless cameras has allowed me to photograph silently by choosing my camera’s electronic shutter option. I have trained my shutter finger to use a delicate touch, which allows me to capture several consecutive shots without ending up with way too many.
Quiet observation and patience play a big part in the success of photographing wildlife, no matter where you are. On the trail, I carry my tripod in one hand, camera with a telephoto lens in the other, and backpack with additional gear on my back. The gear includes a macro lens or extension tubes so I can work on close-ups. I often notice small creatures such as lizards, frogs, and insects around me, and without the macro lens or extension tubes, I cannot focus on them.
When instructing a workshop or working with an individual client, I begin by raising the topic of ethics. Some folks are already on board or think they are, but I have found that many are not familiar with the depth and importance of practicing sound, ethical photographic techniques.
My most appalling experience having to do with ethics occurred about 35 years ago, during my first year of photography. That autumn, I visited a local park and struck up a conversation with another visitor with a camera.
We began walking together and came across a large bull elk (Cervus canadensis) ahead on the trail. I stopped short as I noticed the animal’s dominant posture and body language, which suggested he could become aggressive: He had stiffened legs, laid-back ears, and flared nostrils, and he was dipping his head down and flaunting his massive antlers. My new acquaintance continued moving toward the animal to capture a close-up view with a relatively short lens. Horrified, I suggested that he was getting too close, but I was too late. The bull turned, locked his eyes on the intruder, and charged and chased the photographer around and around a tree as I gawked. Thankfully, the elk lost interest and walked away, and the moment de-escalated.
Though I do not have a photograph, the extreme event serves as a reminder to always watch and respect wildlife and ensure that we always have an exit path to safety. Using ethical techniques does not need to involve as significant of an incident as my example. Any human activity that negatively affects the behavior or reaction of wildlife counts as an ethics violation practice in my book. Alyce Bender’s feature “Photograph as if Everyone is Watching” in the Winter 2022 issue of the Journal examines the topic thoroughly.
Much of my current work involves photographing from professional photo blinds on private property. Because I am stationary and sitting behind a sheer, camouflage curtain, this technique minimizes the risk of stumbling upon a subject that might be hunting, eating, courting, nesting, or protecting its family. However, I still employ methods to ensure that the wildlife is safe, such as keeping noise and movement to a minimum.
Transitioning to mirrorless cameras has allowed me to photograph silently by choosing my camera’s electronic shutter option. I have trained my shutter finger to use a delicate touch, which allows me to capture several consecutive shots without ending up with way too many.
Quiet observation and patience play a big part in the success of photographing wildlife, no matter where you are. On the trail, I carry my tripod in one hand, camera with a telephoto lens in the other, and backpack with additional gear on my back. The gear includes a macro lens or extension tubes so I can work on close-ups. I often notice small creatures such as lizards, frogs, and insects around me, and without the macro lens or extension tubes, I cannot focus on them.
Although I have long telephoto lenses and extenders, I generally avoid photographing active bird nests for several reasons. Many photo contests, naturalists, and conscientious photographers denounce the practice, saying that photographers cannot avoid disturbing the normal goings-on at a nest site. In general, this is a good rule of thumb. In addition to creating a visual disturbance, you will invariably leave your scent in the area, which attracts cunning predators such as raccoons. However, some circumstances may exist where you could photograph a nest without having an effect on its inhabitants, and it’s circumstances like these that make knowing the reason behind the rule just as important as knowing the rule itself.
For example, the nesting cactus wrens (Campylorhynchus brunneicapillus) who set up shop in my backyard have become used to my presence. The adults are accustomed to seeing me working and moving about, so they do not view me as a threat. They carry on their business of gathering food for their chicks and maintaining the nest area. When the chicks fledge, they take awkward, amusing flights and perch in unusual places such as my bedroom window screen, and I’m able to photograph them unobtrusively without affecting their behavior. I consider this situation a reasonable exception to the ethical practice of not photographing nests, but in general, it’s best to leave nests and their inhabitants alone.
Other examples of unethical practices include sitting or standing in an area for a prolonged time, which tramples the habitat and leaves your scent in the area. Some photographers clip tree branches to improve their view of their subject. If you must improve the view but cannot accomplish this by moving your camera, gently tie the branch out of the way with string or rope for the duration of creating the photo, then release the branch.
Many creatures spend time in the sand or leaf litter, which may distract viewers from the creature. If the subject is a bird, such as a crested caracara (Caracara plancas) like the one shown at the top of this email, position yourself lower than it if possible. Rather than sweeping away the habitat when working with insects and other small creatures, change your angle and get down to eye level with the subject to minimize the amount of space the habitat takes.
During spring migration, one of the best places to photograph birds is on South Padre Island, Texas, USA. A few years ago, I stood shoulder to shoulder with lots of other photographers during a migration fallout. This happens when a cold-weather front comes down from the north as the birds migrate north toward their summer homes. The birds are exhausted from traveling great distances, many of them nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico. The lucky ones fall from the sky and land on the beach, in people’s yards, and in parking lots — exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. The unlucky ones fall into the water before they reach land and drown. A fallout can last from a few hours to a couple of days. During this time, the birds are vulnerable to predators such as feral cats, dogs, coyotes, bobcats, and local predatory birds.
While observing this fallout, I noticed movement in the low branches of a bush in front of me and stooped to investigate. There sat a chestnut-sided warbler (Setophaga pensylvanica), hidden from view. Knowing he was exhausted and not wanting to disturb him, I took an “insurance” (documentary) shot from above. He remained in place, so I slowly lowered the legs of my tripod a few inches and shot again. Still, he remained. I continued gradually lowering the tripod until the legs splayed flat to the ground and I had an eye-level angle of the warbler. Just as I reached to press the shutter, a little breeze came from behind him and puffed out his feathers like a skirt. He cocked his head and gave me a curious look and a photograph like no other. I did a mental happy dance, knowing I had taken precautions to avoid disturbing him in his condition. I slowly stood up, not speaking, looking to see if anyone else had noticed him. They had not. I knew I would sleep well that night because I had allowed the bird to rest without stress. By the way, I use his photograph on my business cards.