A.M.A.N.D.A. May ’12

It’s not unusual for people to walk straight into our house but when I heard the door go at past nine o’clock the other night, I did wonder who was calling. And there she stood – my Mum, on one of her unexpected, unannounced, and as Pete would have us believe, unwelcome visits!

For fear of misrepresenting my husband I should add that for him, a visit from the Mother-in-law is in fact welcome as it means ironing getting done on an industrial scale. Pants, socks, and hankies – nothing escapes her hot steamy iron. But this is no ordinary iron, this is a rocket-shaped, turbocharged, steam-spluttering iron that gurgles away for hours on end. Her bedroom door remains shut for days, the only sign of life being the steam creeping out from underneath the threshold and then, as if by magic, there appears a pile of ironing the likes of which our house rarely witnesses. She even puts it away!

Nobody is allowed to touch the iron in my Mum’s absence (it goes away in the ‘stuff’ cupboard until her next visit). I have to say that for me, ironing is a luxury that demands time and inclination that I simply haven’t got. So if anyone spots a strange human form that kind of resembles either Pete or Sam but obviously can’t be with clean ironed clothes like that, it is indeed life – just not as we know it. A week or so from now, their usual vagabond appearance will be resumed.

Of course they could always do their own ironing. Hmmm…

My mum headed off home this morning (looking very smart) and as I left for the station I heard my first cuckoo of the year. Life is good with or without ironed clothes!


Why do we take pictures?

One way or another it seems we’re all battling to have our voices heard – or images seen – amongst a growing hubbub, a throng of vulturine media. Competition is taking its toll on many established pros. New ideas don’t stay new for very long; fresh approaches aren’t fresh at all once you start digging and conservation photography, that very laudable idea that visual imagery can contribute to societal values, has in some cases, become the latest photographic bandwagon: a trendy claim to justify self-indulgence. It’s all so damned difficult.

So where is professional nature photography heading? Well, that’s probably a subject for a six-part blockbuster blog, and even if I knew the answer – which I don’t – I’m not sure it addresses my current thought processes. So let’s just stop and think and strip it all back to basics.

Reading David Noton’s piece in a recent edition of Outdoor Photography, I was struck by the simple truth that our pursuit of photographic trophies – those images you can hold aloft and shout about – really isn’t the end in itself but the means to the end. Without the drive that all photographers have to some degree, to secure the images we want, in all likelihood we wouldn’t find ourselves stood on a coastal headland at daft o’clock or freezing your wotsits off in a Scottish blizzard or being so close to a bear that you can smell its rancid breath. These experiences are the real trophies; these are the memories that will etch themselves on your soul for ever – the camera is just the excuse for being there.

So is it just about having fun? In some cases most definitely but I’m not yet 100% sold on that notion – perhaps I just don’t wear frivolity very comfortably. That said, my perspective has changed in recent years. Photography allows us, perhaps forces us, to see the world differently and certainly the experiences I’ve been afforded from standing behind a camera, have shaped what I think, what I feel, what I am. As I reluctantly approach the half-century mark, I’ve learned that the most valuable asset I own is not my image archive but my memory archive, the one stored in my minds eye.


How bad should we feel?

I sometimes find it difficult to pitch this blog. On the one hand, I’m concerned (as we all should be) about environmental injustices and to that end, open dialogue is a food that nourishes fresh perspectives and values. On the other hand, I’m a photographer and my guess is that most people visiting this blog want to see pictures or at the very least, read material that is directly relevant to nature photography. I’ve heard many negative comments about photographers getting all too worthy and I definitely don’t want to fall into that trap – please prod me if that is becoming the case!!

So is it my place to slap the humble readership of this blog around the face and make it feel so guilty about its environmental performance that it feels compelled to go and live in a cave? Of course not. It’s my place to try my best to inspire and send folk away with a nice warm fuzzy feeling – isn’t it? The fact is I’m not sure, and my indecision was crystallised just yesterday.

Chris Packham is writing the foreword to the upcoming 2020VISION book and I’ve just received his draft text. Now I’m a great fan of Chris’ straight-talking pragmatism and I agree with most of what he says. But in this case, I was a tad surprised about his views on the lack of merit in modern conservation, not to mention wildlife photography. I see his point but having read the piece I felt a bit worthless and deflated. In this state of mind am I best placed to go out and do my bit to inspire others? Probably not.

And then this morning, colleague Niall Benvie sent me a raft of material from the very clever people at Futerra, a London-based company committed to creative environmental communication (check them out). Their first document, ’10 rules for communicating sustainability’ centred throughout on positivity, encouragement…even love. Rule 6 says “avoid too much guilt.”

It’s very easy to report bad news and over the years, photographers with a mind to effective communication, have been as guilty as anyone for doing just that. But does it work? Well, for what it’s worth, I think it does…for a while. But in the longer term we become fatigued with guilt and not wanting to carry around such a burden, we simply shed it, block it out.

I’ve got to say I kind of enjoy discussing the sensitive issues that govern our way forward as a species but increasingly, I recognise that I’m perhaps more productive going back to basics and producing (and showing) imagery that make people feel good. This based on the perhaps naive assumption that if we feel good, we’re more likely to do good. At a time when the role of visual communication has never had such an exciting songpost to sing from, it’s critical that as photographers, we pitch our message sensitively and creatively.

And whilst we’re talking about warm, fuzzy feelings, make sure you check out 2020VISION’s daily WOW Factor image here. There’s no message, no agenda, it’s just nice!


The big caper debate.

For photographers and birders alike there are few species higher on the ‘must-do’ list than capercaillie, the world’s largest grouse and denizen of Scotland’s fragmented pine forests. Sure they are big charismatic birds, but they are also rare and under normal circumstances are unlikely to be seen without a not inconsiderable amount of effort and local knowledge. All of this conspires to make the caper a sought-after subject.

It’s no secret anymore that there is a so-called ‘rogue’ capercaillie in a pine forest near Kingussie – he’s even been on Autumnwatch.  Anyone who had a mind to keep his presence a secret (me included) might have got away with it even five years ago, but the speed of information exchange today, ensures that this bird will attract increasing attention for the rest of his life. The big question is whether that attention is detrimental to this particular individual or whether being up close to such an icon of the pinewood, nurtures a greater empathy with the plight of the species as a whole. I don’t know the answer to that question. What I do know is that however regrettable it might be to those who want this bird to themselves, it ain’t going to happen. So should we be thinking about this differently?

There is no doubt that a group of people – photographers, birders or otherwise – surrounding this bird, conjures up the perception of harassment; it looks ugly. But is it detrimental to the caper? I’m no scientist but I’m not sure it is and moreover, does it really matter?

Conservation is a luxury of an affluent society and despite the doom-mongering, we still live in a very affluent society. Shouldn’t we then be exploiting that affluence? How about charging to see the caper? Or at least asking for a donation to a forest conservation charity? Now of course this is a legal, political and cultural minefield but my point is that rather than pretend we can keep such a wildlife spectacle under the hat, perhaps we should be shouting it from the rooftops, inviting in the TV crews and exploiting the opportunity for community engagement, even profit?  We’ve all seen RSPB do it successfully with urban peregrines, why not rogue capercaillie?

Ok my cheek is bulging a little from my tongue but it’s the conservatism within conservation that sticks in my craw. The conservation movement cannot on the one hand whip us all into a frenzy about the visual spectacle that is the natural world, and then on the other, deprive us of access to the very best bits – or at least frown upon those who are seen to buck the system. Nobody owns the birds, least of all any single conservation body.

Before my mailbox fills with a deluge of accusations, I’m not advocating recklessness or law-breaking here, I’m not even talking specifically about capercaillie, I’m just suggesting a shift in our mindset to be less precious, less sensitive, less worthy and dare I say, less arrogant about showing people the really sexy stuff that Scotland (or anywhere else) has to offer. If we want their money to put nature back in order, it’s the very least they can expect in return.


Are we weeing in the wind?

I had hoped to bring you something slightly more sanguine following my last emotionally charged post – thank you to all who contributed by the way. It is not to be however, and although this is more of a reflection than a rant (it is after all Friday afternoon), it is nevertheless delivered with a slightly heavy heart.

Movie buffs will be pleased to note that Liam Neeson is back on our screen in The Grey, an action thriller that depicts a plane crash from which the survivors find themselves in an Alaskan wilderness. You can feel it coming can’t you? I heard it on Radio 2 and I knew immediately what was coming. The words ‘wilderness’, ‘Alaska’ and ‘thriller’ – with a shot of Hollywood thrown in to spice up the cocktail – mean only one thing: Wolves. Even in this informed age of animal ecology and behaviour; even at a time of heightened sensitivity to media misrepresentation, there’s no way that truth should get in the way of sensationalism. They  just can’t resist it. I’m sure you can guess the story. It’s basically about a group of men being hunted by a pack of hungry wolves (as they do). It’s not really about predator and prey, it’s about good versus evil. It’s also biologically inaccurate and totally misleading.

Ilike Liam Neeson and OK, perhaps I’m over-reacting a tad, perhaps you could argue that it’s only a story, fiction, a piece of light-hearted entertainment and to a degree, I would buy that. But if you speak with the many scientists, researchers and biologists who have spent their lives – some of whom have lost their lives – educating the public about this much-maligned creature, I’m not sure they’d agree. And does this film really do the wolf’s reputation harm? Well I don’t know that for sure but 138,000 Facebook followers for a movie that has only been released a few days, doesn’t bode well for global wolf education. Hate wolves if you want to but at least hate them based on fact not fiction.

For context, the Facebook page campaigning to stop aerial wolf hunting in Alaska has 9,000 followers and I’m sure a good proportion of those are anti- Palin rather than pro-wolf. As a conservationist you can wee as hard and as long as you like but just now, there’s a strong breeze coming the other way.

ps. Both of these wolves were photographed in controlled conditions – before I get accused of misrepresentation!


Hiding to nothing.

I like to stay the right side of the line between insightful observation and a rant. Make no mistake however, this is a rant.

I remember years ago when Mark Hamblin and I embarked on the Tooth & Claw project being accused of condoning raptor persecution simply because we chose to take an impartial standpoint in our commentary on the issue. So if we didn’t condone the killing of raptors we must surely condemn it? Well no, we are simply presenting the issue impartially. Ah, you’re sitting on the fence then? By the time this scenario had been replayed a dozen or so times, you realise you can’t win.

And so more recently to Frozen Planet. It is to my mind the greatest natural history film ever made and undoubtedly attracted an audience that wouldn’t otherwise engage. OK so they filmed a few seconds of a six-part series in captivity and arguably, cocked up the explanation but is that really the series’ legacy? Last night I sat and watched the spell-binding Earthflight. As has been suggested elsewhere there are factual errors and some dodgy bits of continuity, but have you ever seen such visual splendour?

In a world where the demands placed upon those of us who do their best to create inspiring visual imagery are being cranked up as each day passes, should we really be so cynical, so pedantic even, and crush the very innovation we so need and indeed, crave?

Perhaps as I approach the half-century mark I’m just getting weary but honestly, you do your best to do your bit, you dare to take a risk, put your head above the parapet and what happens? It gets blown off – often by those who sit alongside you in the trenches. So I’m going to make a plea to those who sit in judgement over others – you know who you are – to consider the blood, sweat and tears that goes into some of these media projects and to recognise the sacrifice that is an inevitable part of their creation.

I spent 4 years working on Wild Wonders of Europe. Now don’t get me wrong I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything but most of that 4 years was sat in meetings, writing strategies and managing petty politics – a far cry from the perceived ‘glamourous’ lifestyle of the nature photographer. Moreover, most of us involved with managing Wild Wonders went without remuneration for that whole period. The same is true of my involvement with 2020VISION.

So back to the plea. Innovation is something to be encouraged, nurtured, celebrated. The pool in which the nature photographer drinks is shrinking but surely that is no justification to criticise those who try to dig a new pool? None of us are perfect, we all make mistakes but the choice is clear to me. We embrace new projects and ideas with all their inherent fragility and foibles or we wallow in the increasingly polluted shrinking pool.

So there we are, my rant for January. But hold on, this is not me feeling sorry for myself – I hope I’m old enough to look after myself. No, this is me rattled and I’ll tell you why. A young man called me the other day with an idea for a photographic project in his local community. “Would it work?” He asked. “What happened if it didn’t?” And then the words that set me on fire: “I don’t want to be seen as a failure.” If our young talent is being stifled because of the fear of critical peer reviews, we’ve got something very, very wrong. I told him to go for it but as I put the phone down I have to say I felt like I’d thrown him into the lion’s den.


Wildlife Photographer: Chris Gomersall

I have to be honest when colleague Chris Gomersall told me he was doing a book on…wait for it…wildlife photography, my eyes glazed over.  How many more books do we need on shutter speed, aperture settings and ISO ratings? So in truth when a copy landed on my doormat the other day, I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to rip it open. But open it I did and I’ve got to say that once I started reading, I couldn’t stop; even Coronation St came and went and I was still absorbed.

Wildlife Photographer is not a techie manual, in fact Chris barely makes mention of camera gear and settings (and well done for that I say). This is an educated, insightful exploration of the concept of wildlife photography and is very much aimed at the thinking photographer. From an intelligent (and experienced) viewpoint, Chris examines themed creativity, conservation story-telling, multimedia and lots more besides. Without apology, he  addresses the thorny issue of digital manipulation and captive subjects – something most others conveniently shy away from. The images are great – that goes without saying – but what impressed me most was Chris’ articulate writing, which is concise, balanced and perceptive.

I’m sure Chis wouldn’t mind me saying that he’s been around a while and in many ways, comes from what is commonly referred to as the ‘old school’. In this book it is evident that Chris’ philosophy is anything but old school and the reader is treated to quite a rare marriage: a lifetime of experience with a contemporary perspective – and a firm grip on reality thrown in to boot.

If this book had indeed turned out to be another ‘how to’ manual, I’d probably be struggling to offer much in way of recommendation. It isn’t that and for anyone who cares about their photography and where this funny old business is heading, I’d offer only one piece of advice: Buy this book. It captures the essence of wildlife photography in 2012 better than anything I’ve read before.


Why you should photograph a bear.

OK it’s true that we happen to offer tours to photograph bears so yes, it’s true I have a vested interest in persuading you to do so. And yes, I have to make a living like everyone else; but just put all of that aside for one moment.

I remember sitting in a hide deep in Finland’s taiga forest probably ten years ago now. It was hot, I was sweating and if I’m honest, it was not enjoyable. I was accompanied by Chris who has gone on to become a long-standing guest of Northshots. Chris never swears. Even now he visibly winces at foul language. We sat in silence hardly daring to move. Nothing happened. The following night nothing happened again…until it was just getting dark. The sound of a snapping branch put our senses on edge and a few seconds later the shadowy shape of a fully grown brown bear emerged from the forest – fifteen metres distant. “F****** hell!” whispered the non-swearing Chris. Indeed, it was a ‘F****** hell’ moment.

There are more bear safari operators in Finland thesedays; there are more bears and there are more bear photographs; the bears have become less wary and Finnair are no doubt grateful for their presence. Following that first encounter I’ve seen and photographed many bears. That’s not the point though. We’re told bears are dangerous and although I happen to think that it’s good to be scared from time to time, you quickly realise there’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re also told bears are aggressive and again, you quickly understand that this is nothing more than media spin.

Bears are fantastic photographic subjects but more than that, the opportunity to photograph them – not in Alaska but here in Europe – provides an invaluable bridge between perceptions and reality. That’s why you should photograph a bear – so that like Chris, you can’t help but utter “F****** hell; so that you’re part of a growing army that have done so; a well-informed army that can tell their friends, parents, siblings, even the window cleaner, that the media reputation of bears is undeserved. A few photos and a story informed through personal experience is a powerful thing indeed. Just ask Chris.


The stickiest problem of all.

It’s a sticky one. In fact it’s so sticky, no government or conservation group (at least any reliant on membership revenue) will touch it with a bargepole. But in reality, you can forget climate change, species extinction or habitat loss, there is only ONE issue at the root of all those other issues: Human Population. There I said it. And to his credit, Mark Carwardine has said it too in this month’s BBC Wildlife Magazine. Even David Attenborough recognises the futility of conservation without a radical rethink on our own burgeoning population. ” I’ve never seen a problem that wouldn’t be easier to solve with fewer people, or harder, and ultimately impossible, with more.” David is obviously an intelligent man, but you really don’t have to be a nuclear scientist to conclude that.

So when should ‘we’ as intelligent, responsible members of society, say something? There are 7 billion of us now with 9 billion predicted for 2050. Just half a century ago, that figure was 3 billion. Quite frankly I don’t see a human rights issue in protecting the right to breed, but I do see an issue in trying to accommodate a population that can’t be fed or have access to basic resources. So is now the time to stop worrying about offending religious or human rights groups and to speak out on what is a mind-blowingly obvious global issue?

Now before you start pelting me with rotting vegetables, can I just say that this is not about culling old people, Asian people, short people, any people. As Chris Packham has said, there are not ‘too many’ of any particular type of people, there are just too many ‘organisms’. In other words, we have to look at this biologically rather than emotionally. And there is light along the tunnel. It’s a fact that when women have access to education and family planning facilities…AND when they are treated as equals to men, the birth rate falls.

The problem is staring us in the face and although riddled with emotional and cultural considerations, so is the solution. Perhaps we all need to put our brushes down and stop sweeping this under the carpet?

www.populationmatters.org


How much is a bird worth?

The capercaillie is without doubt a fine looking bird. One of the finest. And they’re in trouble. Nobody really knows why but their numbers are perilous; moreover,  they are entirely dependent upon a pine forest which itself is fragmented across the Scottish Highlands. Inevitably with such an icon, conservation action is urgent, focused…and expensive. So is this denizen of the wildwood worth all the effort?

Well as with most things that depends on who you’re asking, but the plight of the beleaguered caper has become entwined with the needs of people living in the Cairngorms National Park. This is certainly not a new phenomenon but one that has crystallised recently with a requirement for affordable housing in a local village. The problem? The housing is destined to be built in what many consider to be prime caper forest.

So which species has the greater claim? Personally speaking, I can see both sides and I genuinely don’t know the answer. But let’s put aside the legislative requirement for capercaillie protection on the one hand, and the social needs of the local community on the other. Ecologically speaking, us humans are adaptable creatures and can find shelter in a wide variety of habitats. Unfortunately the same can’t be said about capercaillie. But is it really the end of the world if a few birds get pushed out of their home? No. They will be missed but within the wider scheme of things, it will make little difference. Or will it?

We can nick a bit of forest here, a flower-filled meadow there, a bit of a bog, a piece of moorland – none of it makes much difference here and now, but where do we draw the line? I’d be the first to agree that short-term, our lives will not be significantly affected by the presence or otherwise, of Scotland’s capercaillie. But then we said that about the bear, the lynx, the wolf, the sea eagle, the red kite, the osprey, the beaver and doubtless millions of micro-organisms that have slipped through our fingers. Surely we’ve learned some lessons? If I needed a house in a local village, I might not care about these things, but the irony of this is the desire on the part of everyone living in this village, to secure a future for the next generation. Nothing wrong with that of course, but that future will undoubtedly be impoverished in the absence of a (irretrievable) healthy environment, along with all the component pieces of the jigsaw. So for me, this is not a question of capercaillie or people; it boils down to whether we prioritise our short-term or long-term needs. 100 years from now, a few extra houses won’t excuse us in the eyes of a future generation for allowing a species to slip away.