I get an enormous amount of satisfaction from images taken close to home. This image like the others in this series, will never win any prizes but it has an extra dimension for me as it results from knowing my own patch. During most winters, snow-melt from the high tops results in the River Spey bursting its banks but unlike many rivers, the Spey is accommodated by its natural flood plain, which avoids damage to roads and houses. Knowing that a significant rise in temperature would result in flooding, I kept an eye on the marshy surrounds of the Spey and on a flat-calm day, nailed a series of ‘PLNs’ (Pleasant Little Numbers).
Favourite 5 images of 2011: No.4
Back in April I spent a few weeks for the 2020VISION project just about as far west as Britain will allow. The Outer Hebrides is a challenging environment and for a good part of the time it rained – that was inevitable. One evening more out of hope than expectation (it was raining again) I visited a remote beach bathed in aquamarine waters. Just before sundown, the rain abated and I took my chance working feverishly for an hour or so before the light became impossible. There are lots of images like this one but only this was taken by me, alone on that Hebridean beach.
Favourite 5 images of 2011: No.5
I’ve photographed squirrels many, many times but do you know what, the combination of this cute native rodent, pine forest and falling snow, is something that draws me back time and again and it’s just damned good fun. I’m not sure this is a classic image by any means but it recalls a winter’s morning spent alone in my hide…with no phone signal.
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.
Andy Rouse at the O2?
A couple of decades ago, the spiritual home of stand-up comedy was arguably the working mens clubs of the industrial north. Sure a few of the top artists made it to TV spots but the thought of Michael McIntyre, John Bishop or Lee Evans filling an arena, historically the preserve of headline music acts, was at best, far-fetched. Stand-up comedy has broken new ground, broken new records and broken new audiences. The same needs to be done for nature.
Spring/Autumnwatch goes some way towards bridging the gap between science and a mainstream audience, but does it reach beyond Middle-class, Middle age, Middle England? Possibly yes, but it’s a two-dimensional platform.
The other night I finally got around to going to an Andy Rouse talk in Warrington. By a quirk of fate I was passing through (no disrespect to Warrington but this is not an everyday occurrence). The hall was packed and encouragingly, a generous splattering of young couples were present – the sort that might go and see Michael McIntyre at the O2. Now I’ve know Andy a fair few years but I’d never seen him speak in this context, so I was intrigued, not so much by the show he put on, but by the reaction of the audience to his rather ‘non-conformist’ style. I’ve got to say I winced a tad at some aspects of his approach, but the crowd were taken along, not on an evening of natural history, but on an evening of entertainment. Yes entertainment. Even nature-lovers like to be entertained!
I dare say the real purists would have recoiled at the occasional sexual innuendo and the anthropomorphic interpretation of some of his images, but the purists are not the ones who need convincing. Andy entertained first and educated as a consequence; it’s much more difficult to pull that off the other way around and my hat goes off to him for that.
Whether you agree with the Rouse approach or not, there is no question over his passion, drive and photographic ability. Factor in that rare resource amongst nature photographers, humour, and it’s an entertaining combination. I’m not sure he’s ready for the O2 just yet but I’m sure someone once said that to Michael McIntyre. I for one, would like to see more Andy Rouse’s sticking their head above that very serious and often painfully tedious parapet, that is traditional nature photography. Andy has fun and so does his audience. Job done.
Wildlife Photographer of the Year.
After a hectic few weeks, I finally got chance the other night to look through the portfolio book of this year’s WPoY competition. This has always been the Oscars of the wildlife photography community and with such intense competition, anyone who gets an image within a sniff of the finals is to be congratulated. Quite simply, it’s the best competition of its kind in the world.
That said, I found myself a tad disappointed on filtering through the images. It wasn’t that they weren’t beautifully conceived, crafted and executed; it was a general lack of impact. And let’s be honest here, it’s impact that makes a good image great. In fairness, I don’t think the standard was any less than in previous years; probably quite the opposite. What’s changed I think, is expectation, mine in particular. We see so much top quality material thesedays, it takes something truly exceptional to really hit you between the eyes, to etch itself on your mind. Worryingly I guess this invites the discussion on the future of the stand-alone still image: has it perhaps had its day? Not surprisingly I hope not, but I fear that as photographers, we need to prepare for life after the still.
For what it’s worth, my favourite three images (by some margin I have to say) were as follows:
1. The overall winner by Daniel Beltra. This is not only a compelling image, it signifies a willingness on the part of the judges to break the mould of the winning image, and I for one, applaud that.
2. Salmon Swipe by Paul Souders. The standard of underwater photography has rocketed in recent years and this is just a great image with behavioural interest and humour in equal measure.
3. Beavering by Louis-Marie Preau. It’s not easy to make a giant water rodent interesting and although I’ve seen this image previously, it’s just full of intrigue and again, a small dose of humour which is always a useful ingredient.
I think it’s the first time I’ve leaned so heavily towards the underwater images and perhaps it’s because we’re being shown new things about an environment that has always been a closed door for most of us.
My humble congratulations to all the runners and riders in this year’s awards. I’d be interested in your views as to where the still image is headed?
When the Skye is grey.
If you want dependable weather, you should think twice about booking one of our Autumn Gold landscape tours. But do you know what? The more I work in so-called ‘bad’ weather, the more I’m starting to enjoy it (see previous blog post). It’s not that I particularly like grey skies or pouring rain (and don’t get me wrong, it’s not like that all the time!), but I do relish the challenge of making something from nothing, It doesn’t always work, but if you persist…and more to the point, if you’re prepared to persist.
Our Ultimate Autumn Gold landscape tour has become an annual event and despite going through a number of changes over the years, the tour fundamentally remains about making the most of this melancholic time of year. I’ve got to say, I love it!
The Cairngorms is a mosaic of forest, moorland, river, loch and mountain. It’s a rich landscape with something for all photographic tastes. Skye is much more solemn and could be described as bleak, although I’d prefer brooding. The cocktail of 4 nights in each location does it for me thank you very much.
Much to the relief of several of our (not so) hardy group (mentioning no names) we only managed 2 early starts with little promise of a decent sunrise on most days. It always surprises me however that although deprived of the ‘classic’ conditions we all yearn for, there are shots to be had if you shun your creative straightjacket. Loch an Eilein at dawn would have been nice, ditto a misty Glenfeshie but it was not to be and we bravely persisted with what was on offer from the weather gods. Loch Insh was briefly majestic and our favourite beech forest glowed in autumnal splendour.
Moving to Skye via Glen Affric (where the sun shone) the forecast was for heavy rain. How come the forecast for rain is always right? Why can’t they forecast misty dawns with the same accuracy? An attempt at the Old Man of Storr was akin to a bad day on Everest with horizontal rain and gusts of wind that bordered on dangerous. Many of our intrepid group climbed the whole way, got their cameras out, immediately put them away and descended with dignity (and cameras) intact. Slighachan worked well though as did Trotternish eventually and although there is a thin line between edgy conditions and outright crap, we trod the right side of that line for the most part.
I’ve never been one for chocolate-box landscapes, preferring instead the moody and broody that Scotland delivers on, especially in spring and autumn. I hope our fantastic guests for this tour agree with me on that at least (we discussed religion, politics, marriage, divorce and birth control during the wetter moments when opinions were not always uniform!) October has been a golden month this year – in experiences if not always colour. Bring on 2012.
If you’d like to join us on the same tour next year (and Mark promises not to bore you too much with his Photoshop tutorial – see below – view details here)
Wild Wild West!
Sometimes, just sometimes, words (and pictures for that matter) are just not enough. “Can we just stand and look?” came the request from two ladies on our recent Wild Wild West tour to Lewis and Harris. We were perched high above a remote beach with an angry sea boiling beneath us. Occasionally the sun pierced the bank of scudding clouds, lighting the bay and painting the crest of each rolling wave yellow. It was, as they say just across the Atlantic, awesome. But standing and looking is just not on when there are pictures to be taken. Oh no, we were having none of that fluffy nonsense on a Northshots tour.
There is definitely something about islands and yes, the weather can be rough out here on the edge, but for a photographer, it’s a tiny price to pay for a slice of solitude and some truly spectacular vistas. Wildness for me is like a drug; I just have to get a regular fix and it doesn’t get any better than staring out across a sea that stretches almost beyond our limited imagination. Sharing the experience with a truly great bunch of guests…well, it’s just the business.
From our cosy and welcoming base at the Harris Hotel in Tarbert (thanks for the recommendation Paul), we explored all four corners of both Lewis and Harris taking in remote windswept beaches, rocky headlands pounded by the Atlantic, and of course the famous Callanish Stones. For one of our days, the rain was more persistent than usual but we found sanctuary in a charming deserted croft house followed by coffee and cake at Skoon Art Cafe, a perfect respite from the inevitable Hebridean squalls.
We all got pictures of course and I hope you like the images above, but do you know what, our two guests, Julie and Sue were right. It’s the images that have etched themselves on our minds that will persist long after the photographs have lost their appeal. Standing and looking is no bad thing.
Thanks to the Wild West bunch of 2011. If you’d like to join us next spring when we return to the Wild Wild West (and I have to say, I think you should), you can book here
