A Little Transparency

My blog posts are like buses.

Generally annoying and widely disregarded by the general public?

Probably, but you also wait for ages before two come along at once. The metaphor almost works but, in reality, no-one is waiting. Still, just as bus drivers amuse themselves by squashing cats and parking on pedestrian crossings with their empty buses, I shall amuse myself by spouting drivel and wearing out my keyboard with my unheeded words.

In the spirit of yesterday's blog post, I have decided to do a little exposé of one of my images:

This image is part of Exposing The Wild's Scottish Project and features in Drama in the Garden, which I produced as part of the project. At the project's climax, Samuel Waldron and I exhibited the image as part of two exhibitions in the Scottish Borders.

Throughout the exhibition, I tried to explain to as many people as possible how the image was produced as I wanted no-one to leave with a false sense of the image. As far as I am aware, everyone was genuinely interested and appreciated me sharing what many thought I might consider a trade secret.

How then did I produce the image? The image shows the same Blue Tit in six different poses. The bird was nesting nearby and, when I noticed it visiting a suet-filled hole designed to attract woodpeckers, I decided to try to photograph the Blue Tit as well.

Initially, the bird flew to the suet from varying vantage points making it almost impossible to anticipate its flightpath. I placed a stick just out of frame, which the bird started using instead. Once the bird was using this new and more direct route, I placed the camera at 90 degrees to the flightpath and manually focused upon it so the bird would always be in focus when flying between the stick and suet.

I decided to used a 60mm macro lens as it produced a brilliantly sharp image whilst blurring the background but keeping enough definition to give the image context. This meant I had to use an remote trigger and sit a few meters from the camera so as not to spook the bird. I simply fired the camera (and attached off camera flash) every time the bird used the flightpath.

After two days I had taken over a thousand shots. The vast majority did not contain the bird at all and many of those that did only showed the tail; but, within the 100 or so shots that survived the cull, I found five which together produced a realistic looking image of a Blue Tit flight path. I edited these together in photoshop. The final image is actually a composite of six images: five of the bird and one of the background.

The image is not a true flight path, it is the illusion of a true flight path. No photograph can presents an truly accurate view of reality. All we can do as photographers is strive to replicate reality as accurately as possible. We are, as I recently heard BBC Producer Barry Paine say, are in the business of creating the illusion of truth.

I do not think any visitors to the exhibition minded having their illusions shattered. Most were simply fascinated by the effort behind this single image, regardless of whether I used the ethically questionable practices of baiting and severe editing. I would much rather fascinate and inspire by explaining an illusion than by presenting an illusion as truth.

WildPhotos Ethics Declaration

"Excuse me, can you tell me how to find the Royal Geographic Society?"

"Shouldn't you be asking them that?"

I would probably have found this a little funnier had I not spent the previous night poised over a relative's toilet bowl following an unfortunate reaction to a Chinese takeaway. My comedic advisor, however, probably assumed my dehydrated and tired appearance was the result of a late-night schmoozing session with a high-flying executive. I was, after all, in London.

I had ventured to the capitol to visit WildPhotos, an annual program of talks and debates where the Bence Mates of this world explain spending the last year blow-drying leaf cutter ants while Klaus Nigges justify dressing as a pelican and photographing urinating jet-skiers. If you are in any doubt that wildlife photographers are an odd bunch, this is the event for you.

Somewhere though between Chris Packham assaulting an Andy Rouse effigy with a super soaker and Stefano Untertheiner recalling his love for an albatross, the organisers somehow managed to find time to fit in a relatively sane debate on photographic ethics.

"Photographic Deceit: How far is too Far" was chaired by Mark Carwardine and began with a survey. The audience of professional and amateur photographers were asked to show their hands in response to a series of questions on baiting, captive subjects, editing, and captioning. The answers regarding baiting follow:

• 95% would leave food to attract birds.
• 70% would feed roadkill to a predator.
• 20% would feed a live mice to a wild owl.

The full results, which are available here, show starkly that everyone has an opinion on how far is too far but that everyone's opinion varies. Over the next hour, many valid points were raised and discussed but I think that wildlife cameraman Doug Allan summarised the mood best. He stated that photographers and cameramen should do only what they feel comfortable with and would be ready to defend, whilst being completely transparent.

Most delegates agreed that photographers are not necessarily the best people to judge their own actions but that they should make it possible for others to do so. This was included in a Ethics Declaration, available here,  which many delegates (including me) agreed to sign and have since done so.

I, as a developer and user of the Exposing The Wild Captioning System, believe that the system is the simplest and most complete way of doing this available. However, if it is not for me to judge my own photographic actions, perhaps it is not best for me to judge my own captioning system. I will simply be fully transparent about my reasons for creating and using it and let others judge whether it is for them.

Green

I have spent the past week at WildScreen festival in Bristol. For those of you who have not heard of it, the best description of WildScreen is "the Wildlife Film-Makers' Oscars," awarding Golden Pandas to the most deserving wildlife and conservation films of the past two years.

Throughout the week, I met many inspirational people and saw countless inspirational films, many of which were award winners. I have a lot of thoughts spinning through my head, but for now I just want to share with you a film that not only illustrates the power of imagery but also has an immensely powerful message. All of this without narration and with minimal music.

Please watch Green, the festival's deserving overall winner. I challenge you to do it with a dry eye; something I certainly failed to do.

Green is available to view free online at the following address - http://www.greenthefilm.com/

Stuff I have been and will be doing

Have I really not published anything since the 18th of July? I really am not very good at this blogging lark am I? Time for a tirade of excuses intermingled with the odd link to prove I have, in fact, been doing things.

Firstly, my University of Nottingham (note the link that proves this place exists) MSc in Biological Photography and Imaging (I suspect this link was more necessary than the last*) dissertation completely took over the last month of my life. This has resulted in a book called Drama in the Garden. My course demanded I print this and I have therefore done so through an online self-publishing website known as Blurb.

You can preview and even buy the book here: http://www.blurb.com/books/1507104

Secondly, I have been preparing to walk the Pennine Way (see, this exists too) with my brother and Joe (this link proves I have a friend). For those among you who have not heard of the Pennine Way, it is a 267 miles walk up the spine of Britain from Derbyshire to Scotland. This is, of course, in preparation for The Great Walk West - our 5000 mile charity walk across America.

Apologies to anyone we meet on the Pennine Way or in the charmingly named Hawes and Mankinholes Youth Hostels. We will pester you and insist you take one of our business cards featuring the highly amusing artwork of Laura Ann Footes, our highly talented artist. I can only suggest you avoid anyone wearing a bright orange or purple t-shit (What? they were on sale at TK Max!) and carrying a preposterously large bag.

Oh, and that does mean I will not be blogging again for a while. Sorry about that. See you in two weeks time.

*I have had a wide variety of responses when telling people about this degree. Certain people have accused me of spending a year photographing "kittens in baskets" while others have simply laughed hysterically (you know who you are woman on the boat to the Farne Islands!)

Business as usual: another rant.

Be prepared for something very unusual from me: a topical blog post.

Alright, I may be stretching the definition of the word topical a little far. The word topical usually implies that a subject is of great interest in the current climate, that office workers are discussing it fervently over coffee breaks, and that inches of column space are being devoted to it.

In reality, just one article recent has been published on the subject and probably only because it is a slow news day. This is the news that the fabled Appalachian trail may be extended.

The Appalachian trail, or AT to its friends, holds a special place in the hearts of hikers worldwide. It is one of the world's oldest long distance trails, and what a trail it is. At 2,178 miles it stretches from Springer Mountain in Georgia up the eastern seaboard of the United States to Mount Katahdin in Maine.

It may no longer be the longest trail in the world or even the United States, but it is the grand daddy of all those that have followed it. Even the Pennine Way - which Joe I will be walking next month in preparation for The Great Walk West: a walk that includes a part of the AT - was directly inspired by the Appalachian Trail.

Those who have completed its full length are known affectionately as thru-hikers and some of their number are truly legendary. Emma "Grandma" Gatewood was the first woman to complete the trail, despite being a grandmother of 23. Her famous wit and inappropriate gear leaves made her an instant AT celebrity. A status which was only heightened when she repeated the feat a futher two times. Britons though will be more familiar with Bill Bryson and his famous failure to complete the AT.

Each year more thru-hikers complete the trail than the America's two other long distance trails, the Pacific Crest Trail and American Discovery Trail, combined. Why then is it so popular? Partly it is the history and the stories of past thru-hikers. Partly it is the legendary companionship between hikers, who tend to bump into each other every day for months on end, and the charity of those who live around the trail: so called trail magic. Partly it is because the AT is so achievable to anyone who has six to eight months to spare.

It is against this background that a growing number of people are calling for the trail to be extended. The Appalachian mountains do not finish at the trail's northern terminus but continue through Quebec into Newfoundland. A group is currently blazing a trail known as The International Appalachian Tail into Newfoundland and hope for it to become part of the AT proper.

For some reason, I find myself hating this idea. I have only stepped momentarily on the AT and will only be walking a few hundred miles of it next year, but I already feel an affinity to the trail. The true stretch from Georgia to Maine has a rich history and prestige that the no extension will ever match.

I am not against new walking trails, far from it, just the pointless association of new trails with the established and well loved AT brand. Especially if it belittles the achievements of those who have already walked the trail and makes the walk less attainable to future hikers.

The Appalachian Trail may not be enough to satisfy the whims of nutters such as Joe and myself, but that does not mean it should be extended to accommodate the moronic few. Give these people deserve a new badge that includes but does not replace the badge of the AT thru-hiker.

As for plans to extend the trail through Greenland, Iceland, the Faroes, Scotland, France, Spain, the Atlas mountains and any other peaks can claim some sort of geological affinity to the Appalachians, no comment. I just wonder who will be so bold as to suggest that the Appalachain Mountain's Antarctic cousins be included?

British Seabird Islands: Bass Rock

Well it has been a short while since I last blogged. It is not a great excuse but I have been working on my dissertation project - a photo book for the Scottish project and university dissertation - and am just a little sick of writing.

Anyway, I thought I would do a three articles comparing of the seabird islands I have visited this year: Skomer, Inner Farne, and Bass Rock. There are of course other seabird islands in the British Isles, but I have not had the pleasure of visiting them.

Firstly, Bass Rock. Bass Rock is a 300 million year old volcanic plug in the middle of the Firth of Forth. As every geography student knows, volcanic plugs are produced when the lava tubes of extinct volcanoes solidify and the surrounding rock is eroded away. The textbook example of this is Castle Rock in Edinburgh, and Bass Rock was produced by a related volcanic eruption.

From afar, the surface of Bass Rock appears white. This is a combination of a coating of guano and a smothering of Gannets. Over 150,000 Gannets crowd onto Bass Rock, making it the largest rock Gannetry in the world. Gannets and Bass Rock are so inextricably linked that Linnaeus, the grand old father of Taxonomy, gave Gannets the latin name Morus bassanus in reference to the rock.

A trip to Bass Rock starts in the town of Dunbar: the only town in the UK where Kittiwakes outnumber humans. This may not be true as I have no idea how many inhabitants live in Dunbar, what its Kittiwake population is, or the Kittiwake to human ratio of any other British towns. Still, it is a good guess. Regardless you can get within feet of Kittiwakes and their chicks without causing any disturbance.

The boat ride takes around 45 minutes to an hour and can get very choppy. Take waterproofs and, no matter how calm the sea looks, put them on: a lesson I learned the hard way. On either the boat trip to the island or the boat trip back, the captain will throw bucketfuls of dead fish over the side: a process known as chumming. This attracts hungry seabirds from miles around.

Fortunately for the Gannets - but unfortunately for photographers - Bass Rock's Gannets have been getting plenty of food this year so are less inclined to follow the boat in search of scraps than normal. On my trip chumming was largely dominated by Herring Gulls, but a few Gannets did show their faces and give us a diving show.

On the island itself, access is very limited. There are after all Gannets everywhere. A roughly 150m long Gannet free path winds its way up part of the island and leaving it is strictly forbidden. This should not worry you though. There are gannets within inches of the path for the majority of the path's length. The main problem is not finding or getting close to Gannets but trying to get compose a simple shot without countless other gannets in the background.

Having said that, there are plenty of different types of shot on offer. If you are low and slow, Gannets treat you as a Gannet with a territory and will respect you so long as you respect their space. In this way, you can get within two feet of a Gannet and get some wide-angle environmental shots.

One piece of behaviour to look out for is the paid bonding display. Whenever one Gannet from a pair returns to the nest, the two will great each other by knocking their beaks together. They repeat this as a reassurance to each other whenever there is a bit of argy-bargy within the colony. This can be set of by anything or nothing as Gannets shuffle their weight and feathers fly past in the wind.

Lastly, there are of course the flight shots. Gannets land pretty much randomly throughout the colony. However, they do tend to fly in against the wind. Once you know where the Gannets are coming from the odds are stacked in your favour.

By far the easiest way to photograph the Gannets in flight is to find somewhere where they are hanging in the wind. If the wind is right, Gannets angle themselves into the wind and become virtually stationary targets. The best place to find Gannets doing this on Bass Rock is down by the landing jetty.

In summary, Bass Rock is an amazing place and definitely worth a visit. I would be perfectly happy to spend a few hours on the island with our without my camera just watching the Gannets go about their daily lives. Photography on Bass Rock is certainly not easy and finding the right compositions can be a bit of a nightmare, but there are plenty of opportunities to keep any wildlife photography happy.

A walk on the Moors

This time yesterday, I was primed and ready to publish a post praising the British railway system, explaining how I shall miss it next year. One misdirected train, two taxis, thirty seven pounds, and a fair few hours later, I am not quite so keep to press the publish button. Instead, I have written a piece about a walk I took today in the Yorkshire Moors, no thanks to a certain York station announcer.

Before I launch into the post proper, I must explain that I am not a Nazi. Before you navigate away from my blog in disgust, let me reassure you that I have not been inciting racial hatred, invading any European countries, or even listening to the views of the Royal Family. It is a lot more innocuous than that.

With a day to spare in Yorkshire, I decided to test my navigational skills in preparation for walking the Pennine way and ultimately across America by navigating a few miles across a large featureless moorland aiming at a small stone carved over 3000 years ago with a swastika, hence the Nazi connection.

Anyway, I set off up the Moor, map in hand. After a mile or two, I realised that I was walking through an area the map worryingly marked "danger area!". Unhelpfully, the map gave no clue as to what dangers I might face. Regardless, I carried on, slightly wearily, looking out for low flying aeroplanes, holes in the ground, and everything in between.

Another mile or so down the path, I stumbled across a line of grouse butts. Again, do not turn away in disgust, I am not being rude! Butts are dugouts in the Moors used for shooting grouse. This was a danger more deadly than any of those I had considered. Low flying planes are all well and good, but lead shot let lose by chinless wonders wielding aging shotguns is something altogether different.

I then considered whether it was or not shooting season. Somewhere in my mind the glorious 12th stuck out. Or was it the glorious 9th? Come to think of it, which month contains this oh so glorious date? I had no idea, so illogically decided to carry on regardless.

You may by now have got the impression that I do not approve of grouse hunting. Quite the contrary, I simply do not approve of landed gentry firing bullets willy nilly in my vicinity. Without the hunters there would be no grouse and no heather Moors.

This may seem a bit backward, but the Moors are an entirely manufactured landscape. Without frequent burning by hunters, the heather would be outgrown by bracken, the bracken would be outgrown by bushes, and the bushes would be outgrown by trees. The grouse would be long gone by this point, as they rely on new heather buds and shoots for food. Three thousand odd years ago, when the prehistoric inhabitants of Ilkley Moor were carving Nazi propaganda in the hill's rocks, the area was still completely forested.

Back to the walk, my path crossed another Neolithic feature of Ilkley Moor; the twelve apostles stone circle. Now I know the circle is called the twelve apostles circle because there are twelve stones and were twelve apostles, but would it really have been so difficult to think of something that existed by the dozen when the stone circle was built to name it after?

Finally, I found myself in the area of the swastika stone. Luckily, it began to rain. This is not normally lucky, but to be honest I did not really want myself, a bearded twenty something year old, to be found scouring the Moors looking for symbols from the Third Reich, and the rain had sent most ramblers looking for shelter. In actuality, I was quite glad not all the ramblers had gone home. A small crowd of three surrounded the rock rendering it slightly easier to find. Furthermore, the smooth curves of the prehistoric swastika looked nothing like Hitler's crude straight-lined efforts.

In case you are wondering, the slight similarity between the Bronze Age swastika and Hitler's symbol in no way means that the Stone Age Britons were Nazis. It might however mean that the Nazis were Stone Aged*.

Anyway, navigational test passed, I jumped on a train back to my Grandparent's house just in time for Grandma's shepherd's pie. There is nothing quite like Grandma's cooking. Thank you Granny!

*Edit (08/07/2010): Yes Mr O'Connor, I know that the Stone Aged was not 3000-5000 years ago, I was using a little artistic license.

An announcement

When I tell people my plans for next year, I invariably get one of two reactions. People either remark that Forest Gump did something similar, or slowly back off, fixing me with confused and hostile gazes, wondering where the nearest straightjacket is and how to get me into it.

So which of Forest Gump's exploits am I so crazily going to replicate? Will I be joining the American army to fight a pointless war abroad? Perhaps I am going to run into a soon-to-be bombed forest to save the life of an ungrateful man. Or maybe I am going Shrimp fishing in a hurricane with a man with no legs?

Not quite. Even I am not quite that crazy.

Instead, I will be walking 5000 miles for charity, crossing 17 American states, leaving the Georgia's Atlantic coast on Valentine's Day 2011, and arriving nine and a half months later at the Pacific coast of Washington State.

Now I know what you are thinking; Forest Gump did not walk across America. True, but he did run across large amount of it. Lots of times. Close enough.

So how did this come about? Well one day, my old Keblite friend, and rather amusing blogger, Joe O'Connor called me, explaining his desire to pen a mammoth adventure book, preferably with someone capable of occasionally taking a professional quality image. I am not sure why he chose me, and am even less sure why I said yes, but for whatever reason I agreed and the planning began.

During that rather lengthy phone call, we hammered out a route, quickly dismissing the organised transamerican hiking trails, preferring instead to play a transcontinental game of join-the-dots. We will connect a series of points that especially interest us, spending time on parts of the Appalachian Trail, the American Discovery trail, and the Pacific Crest trail in between.

We will visit the Great Smokey Mountains, Gatlinburg Tennessee, the world's longest cave system, St Louis, Kansas City, Lake Oahe, the South Dakotan Badlands, the Devil's Tower, Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse monument, Yellowstone, The Grand Tetons, the Great Sandy Desert, Crater Lake, and Mount Hood to name but a few.

We be soaked by thunderstorms, endure freezing temperatures, relentless heat, gale force winds, snow, and ice. Our feet will blister, or legs will ache, and our minds may break. Nevertheless, somewhere along the way, we will meet amazing people and see hundreds of ordinary and extraordinary sights.

Neither of us have done anything like this before. It will not be easy, and we will probably never speak to each other again. But, when it is done, we will almost certainly look back at it as one of the defining and most rewarding achievements of our lives.

Right now I am living a brilliant life, spending my days in the countryside taking countless photographs, but to be perfectly honest, I simply cannot wait to get going.

One last very important point. There is a serious reason behind this. It is not just Joe and I waltzing across a continent avoiding the real world by walking across as much of it as possible. We both aim to raise seriously respectable wedges of cash, be it dollars or pounds, for our respective charities.

I have put a great deal of thought into the charity I will represent. My main passion is wildlife, but I recognise that a heartfelt wildlife only approach to conservation is simply not feasible in the modern world. Successful conservation initiatives almost always involve the local community and cutting edge ecological science.

Until recently, I have been at loss to find a charity that exclusively backs exactly this kind of modern conservation. That is until the BBC Wildlife Fund popped up with their Wild Night In.

The BBC Wildlife Fund funds exactly the kind of conservation I am passionate about. They seek out projects worldwide that draw upon cutting edge science and enterprising passionate individuals to protect flagship species, help the local community, and conserve the environment as a hole. They truly make a difference.

I have just donated a small amount via the fund's Justgiving page, and would urge you to do the same, whether spurred on by our walk or not.

Oh, and we have a name for our adventure. "The Great Walk West: Being British Across America." I shall keep you posted.

New Captioning Website!

Stop! Newsflash! The Exposing The Wild Captioning System website is up and running, complete with fancy slideshows like the one below!

www.exposingthewild.com/captioning/index.html

The Captioning System has also had a revamp, and the new final draft is more comprehensive and unambiguous than ever. If anyone has any comments on the system, it would be great to hear them.

If any photographers out there would like to use the system, please do. The more the merrier! If you could just link to the website, that would be great.

My website (www.moonlightimaging.com) has also been updated and takes into account the new changes.

Unfortunately, I will be unable to update my older blog posts, I am simply too busy and have spent too many hours in front of the computer in the last few days finalising the website, as my bloodshot eyes can testify.

Anyway, that is it! The system is out there! Lets see how far we can take it.

A Complete Set

As some of you may have noticed, it is World Cup year. Not just that, it is an African World Cup year. There are few that will argue that Africa is an exceptionally diverse continent, but that it is also somewhat turbulent. The very word Africa summons up images of blood diamonds, genocide, famine, and war. But somehow this year Africans are bonding around South Africa, Cameroon, Ghana, Algeria, and the Ivory Coast. They are not just their country's teams, they are African teams.

Here though, in Scotland, the natives cannot even bring themselves to support those with whom they share their peaceful North Atlantic island. The clue to the fact that the World Cup is being played is the slightly-more-miserable-than-usual faces of the Scots and the cheers whenever an Englishman makes a howler.

Down in England we would be perfectly happy to cheer on the plucky Scots. In fact we do. Every year we unite behind Andy and Jamie Murray in a storm of patriotic pride. After all, we are all part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

For now though, the English male is a little busy flying flags, drinking beer, and complaining about the referee. In the meantime, children are out on the streets fighting over who gets to be Messi and collecting stickers emblazed with names like Christos Patsatzouglou, names that they are inexplicably able to pronounce.

Virtually no one ever gets the set, but that is not really the point. The fun is in the chase. Unfortunately, I have been chasing a set which, to my complete surprise, I have just completed. For the past month mummy and daddy Great Spotted Woodpecker have been visiting one of my hides. Today, out of the blue, their chick appeared.

I suppose I must find another set to complete. Yoshikatsu Kawaguchi for Maximiliano Periera anyone?

The Miracle Train

You find me, dear reader, hurtling across the English countryside by rail somewhere between Darlington and York. Due to franchise changes, the train in question is no longer a Virgin Train, but it is, of course, still late.

In fact, if the vast majority of dates on my e-ticket are to be believed, the train is currently running 2009 years, 4 months, 30 days, 11 hours, and 41 minutes late. Yes, that is correct, my ticket states, in very large letters, that the train was due to leave Berwick-Upon-Tweed, arrive at Birmingham, and call at a fair few stations in-between, all in the second Jesus was born. Now that is what I call a miracle.

Luckily, squeezed into a corner of the ticket are enough correct dates to persuade the replacement cabin crew that to boards at each and every station that everything is in order and allow me to proceed on my journey unhindered, at least until the next stop.

Anyway, this is not a travel blog. Yet. I am here to announce that I have updated my latest images gallery. Some of the new images are from the British Wildlife Centre, others from the Exposing The Wild Scottish Project. Enjoy!

A encounter with the flyboys

There are very few people who can say that, at some point during their life, they have never needed to cross a river.

Thankfully, during mankind's long and illustrious history, humans have perfected a wide variety of inventions to simplify this process. These range in complexity from handily placed planks, to planks arranged into complex structures known as boats and bridges.

Unfortunately, there are occasions where these inventions are unavailable and there is little choice other than to remove certain items of clothing and take the plunge.

This is the situation I found myself in today. For reasons familiar to poultry humour aficionados worldwide, I needed to cross the river to get to the other side. Duly, I stripped down to my finest blue boxers and matching t-shirt and stepped out into the torrent.

I tentatively forged my way through the biting cold water towards the far bank, occasionally flinching at the broken Victorian glass littering the old mill-river. Before I knew it, I was halfway across the Whiteadder.

It was at this moment, that a bunch of RAF chaps, lets call them Johnny, Dicky, and wing-commander Benjamin "tree-scraper" Huntington, decided to turn up in their most flashy, over-the-top, and, quite frankly, brutish, display of human river-crossing prowess; a bright yellow Sea King helicopter.

Dicky's state of the art heat seeking camera would have spotted the old Oxonian floundering thigh-deep in river from over two miles away. Within the next second the helicopter's camera/computer combination would have checked my face against a billion possibilities and identified me as someone who used to light fires in alleyways and put soap on his sister's toothbrush; I am perhaps a little pesky, but not quite a threat to national security.

Once all of this this was evident, Dicky would have alerted navigator Johnny to my presence. The young recruits would instantly have spotted the potential to have a little fun, and bashfully persuaded the wing-commander to let them have their game.

The game in question involved hovering 30 meters above the head of the unsuspecting river-crosser. Caught in the downdraft, my t-shirt instantly lost all shape and form, billowing hopelessly around my head whilst my boxers deserted my thighs and headed downwards towards the relative shelter of my water-covered knees.

All dignity lost I cowered for a minute in the full force of the the "tree-scraper's" downdraft, before Johnny, Dicky, and Benjamin headed back to base to tell the chaps of their latest japes and place the footage on youtube.

I however was left cold, wet, and dejected in the middle of the river. Whatever was on the other bank that had previously seemed so important had been blown away along with my dignity.

Thank you very much flyboys.

Staple Diets

There are over 200 species of British breeding birds. My own Lightroom library contains over 50, but somewhere along the line that staple of British wildlife photographers, the Great Spotted Woodpecker, had always slipped through my nets.

While up in Scotland working on Exposing The Wild's Scottish project I have had and will have plenty more time to remedy this.

Samuel and I have set up a hide and feeding center in a small forested area near our base. For whatever reason, the local birds seem a little reluctant to visit the feeders but the suet we packed into holes drilled into an upright log has been rapidly disappearing

Today, after an hour and a half wait, I finally got to see (and photograph) the culprit; the long awaited not-so-illusive Great Spotted Woodpecker.

These are rather unoriginal shots, but hopefully I will have plenty of time to come up with something a little more unusual over the coming weeks.

It is always nice to crack a duck. Perhaps the kingfisher will pop along tomorrow to say hi, or perhaps not. This is what makes this wildlife photography so interesting!

Recipe for a frustrated photographer

1) Take one photographer, one camera, and one tripod.

2) Place in a nettle-lined canvas oven.

3) Cut a slit in the oven overlooking a perch positioned over a stretch of the idyllic Scottish river Whiteadder.

4) Garnish with a covering of midges.

5) Sun-bake for four and a half hours on the hottest day of the year so far.

6) Do not, on any account, let a kingfisher alight on the perch.

Well that was an unproductive morning. Off to another hide this afternoon? I think so!

Latest Images

My website has a new latest images page, which, by this time tomorrow, will already be out of date as I am off to the British Wildlife Center. Expect lots of images... at least expect lots of images from the 14th onwards when all my coursework will be handed in.

Click here to take a look my latest images.

Gone but not forgotten

Many of you will have heard of the Golden Toad, the Passenger Pigeon, the Tasmanian Tiger, the Great Auk, the Quagga, and the Stephens Island Wren.

All of these animals are extinct, all within the last 250 years, and all (except perhaps the Golden Toad) almost entirely due to the actions of humans.

These species were all lost in distant parts of the world or, in the case of the European Great Auk, generations ago. These names, although familiar to us, seem to resonate with times and places other than our own.

Perhaps this is why so many seem immune to the pleas of conservationists citing examples such as these as evidence for our continued detrimental effect upon the environment. Extinction seems to be a remote phenomenon not directly affected by the actions of modern Brits.

Maybe this would be different if we had recently lost a species of our own, if we had an example of an endemic British species recently lost due to the actions of modern Brits.

Well as a matter of fact we do.

I was shocked to read in this months BBC wildlife magazine of the Ivell's Sea Anemone - a species endemic to Britain that became extinct as recently as 1983. Even as someone who has completed a degree in Biology, with modules on British marine ecology, the name was completely unfamiliar to me.

It is obviously a terrible shame, perhaps even criminal, that the Ivell's Sea Anemone is gone for good, but why are conservationists not using the name to their advantage? What are they not shouting on rooftops that the Scottish Wild Cat, the Red Squirrel, and the Smooth Snake are in danger of going the same was as the Ivell's Sea Anemone? Why is every British school child not taught to say its name and lament its loss?

In a time when the general opinion is that the environment can wait in the face of larger challenges such as economic recovery, perhaps the Ivell's Sea Anemone should be used to remind us Brits that the environment is as much our responsibility as that of the rainforest-felling third world dictatorships we so love to condemn and patronize.

Little critters

It has taken a while, but I have finally got there.

Since uploading my website my "other wildlife" (i.e. neither mammals nor birds) web page has been incomplete and displaying the dreaded label "coming soon" in the place of images.

Now I have a full compliment of 15 images courtesy of these two little chappies; a Grove Snail from last summer in Pembrokeshire, and an Orange Underwing Moth from last week on the top of Herefordshire Beacon. This is not to say that I will not be changing images around as my library grows, but at least the "coming soon" message will be a thing of the past.

Finally, for those of you still awaiting my promised Golden Eagle images, I am afraid you will have to wait a little longer! I have just not had time today and am visiting family up north at the weekend. Sorry!

This green and pleasant land

Once again I have neglected my blog over the last few days. Is it because I have nothing to say? I am sure a few of you will confirm that is never likely to happy. Is it because I have taken any photos? Definitely not! So what is it?

Over the past few days I have been very busy planning two large projects. Planning what I hear you cry? Well let me just say that next year a) my feel will be blistering and b) you should be seeing a newly designed Exposing The Wild logo in a good few places. Cryptic!

Back to the here and now, or at least to days recently passed. Thursday morning I arose bright and early to climb Herefordshire Beacon (a.k.a. British Camp) in time for sunrise. British Camp is a Iron Age fort at the southern end of the Malvern Hills with views along the range to Worcestershire Beacon, across the Seven river valley, and across Herefordshire into Wales. Just a few meters from the summit is the setting a family of Rabbits has chosen to make its burrow.

Each morning, just after sunrise, they emerge to bathe in the warm morning light. There are very few things that would persuade me to be a rabbit, but the prospect of being greeted by that view each morning ranks highly on that list.

There is something special about old England with its quaint villages and rolling hills and to me very little is as English as the Malvern hills. Perhaps that is why when my Brother an old school friend and I set off for a short walk in the same hills two days later, we did not turn round until we were at the top of Worcestershire Beacon and our car was six miles behind us.

Finally, partially to give you a sneak preview of my next blog post, and partially so if I fail to post it you can chase me up, here is a picture from a session with David Fox and his magnificent Golden Eagle Star last week.

Snowdonia

Eight days away from the blog and it seems like a lifetime.

So what have I been up to in the past week? Looking back upon it now it seems like I have achieved very little photographically; however, judging by the number of new photographs in my Lightroom catalogue, this simply is not true.

One very major contributor to this has been a 21 hour time lapse video of an opening daffodil. During the making of this my camera fired off an image every 20 seconds, resulting in a grand total of 3,500 images. This may seem a little excessive, but in my opinion it is better to have too many images and too long video than a too short jerky clip.

I have also had another pop at white-background studio shots of invertebrates as described in my previous blog post. Just like when shooting white-background shots of people, a way to make a white-background shot of an invertebrate stand out is to highlight interesting shapes. I think I have achieved this with this pair of shots but that is not for me to judge.

Perhaps the reason I have felt like I have done no photography over the past week is that all of these photographs were taken indoors in a (relatively) sterile studio setting. Thankfully, today I was able to get back outside into the real world. More specifically, to Snowdonia.

The weather did not deliver the mix of sun, rain, and stormy clouds we were promised. Instead, the National Park was draped in a dull grey blanket of cloud. However, for some types of landscape photography this is not all bad. Flat light prevents too many highlights being burned out and allows longer exposures, perfect for blurring waves or waterfalls.

Close-ups of waterfalls such as this image are all well and good, but for quite a while I have been trying to find a waterfall where it is possible to include a mountain vista as a background. Today I finally found a waterfall that allowed me to do this.

Exploring the tree of life

There are words to describe the weather that graced Nottingham today; however, most of these are rude so I will stick to simply calling it "British". You get the gist.

Luckily, today I was never supposed to be outside. Last Wednesday, after a brief visit to Bempton Cliffs RSPB reserve, my fellow MSc students and I collected a whole host of animals from Filey Brigg; a rocky spit sticking out into the North Sea riddled with tidal pools. Today was time to photograph them in the studio.

On land, wildlife photographers are severely limited. Phyla are the largest divisions of the animal kingdom and, with one exception, all 36 animal phyla evolved in the sea. We terrestrial beings represent a highly specialised minority of the ten phyla that have made it out of the sea. Almost all of the animals we frequently photograph, from slugs to dragonflies, scorpions to albatross, and even ourselves, fall within just three phyla; the Molluscs, the Arthropods, and the Chordates.

How then can we hope to document and photograph a larger proportion of the evolutionary tree without going sub-aqua or pointing microscope-mounted cameras into our ponds? One of the very few ways is to go rock pooling.

During our short foray, we collected members of the Echinoderms and Cnidarians, as well as encountering many divisions of terrestrial phyla that do not occur on land.

Us landlubbers are very accustomed to most well-photographed terrestrial animal's patterns and forms, so as photographers we usually try to show these species interacting with their environment in new and interesting ways. This is not true of many marine groups, so in the studio I tried to simply highlight the shapes and forms of these species.

To do this I decided to photograph them on a white background; a style of photography very much in the vogue at the moment, especially with the recent launch of Niall Benvie and Clay Bolt's meet the neighbours project.

I hope you will agree that this technique exemplifies the shape, colour, and even transparency of the individuals. If you would like to know how to shoot against a white background then the best place to look definitely the meet the neighbours photographers guide.

Lastly, and just in case any of you are wondering about the ethics of collecting specimens for studio shots from the wild, I would not normally condone this practice. However, as we were with Nottingham University academic staff, and all collected specimens will become part of the well used and important university collection, this put me at ease somewhat.