Getting Closer

Birds of the Galapagos Photo Gallery

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Stalking is a word that might seem easy to define. Most people associate stalking with being sneaky and moving furtively along in the shadows, trying to approach a wary quarry close enough to capture or kill it. Stalking with a camera does have the element of the hunt at times, of being so well hidden that you're almost invisible to your subject, even without a blind. But more often than not, a bird or animal does at some point in a stalk become aware of the presence of its pursuer. At that moment, if a photographer looks like a threat, the subject flees and a picture opportunity is lost.

Though stalking is, by definition, "to pursue quarry or prey stealthily," a deeper kind of stalking exists. Perhaps stalking is the wrong word—what I'm talking about is more a way of learning to blend into the background as a harmless, nonthreatening object. It's both a mental and a physical attitude—a way of breathing, looking, and moving that animals are comfortable with. We've all known people who have a natural affinity with horses, dogs, cats, and other animals. If you can perfect that quality, the ability to make animals feel at ease in your presence, getting close to birds is easy.

I've been trying for most of my life to develop this kind of non-threatening presence with wildlife. During my early teens I took up falconry, an activity that requires the same qualities as those needed for bird stalking—infinite patience and the ability to move slowly and deliberately around a wild bird. Above all, falconry taught me not to stare. Hawks and most other kinds of wildlife are terrified by a fixed gaze, because in nature predators stare at their quarry just before they attack. I learned to look at my birds obliquely, taking brief glances with my peripheral vision when I was close to them. Eventually, I didn't even have to do that. My relationship with the hawks became more and more instinctive.

I try to achieve that same kind of rapport with the wild birds I photograph, whether I'm stalking them in the open or hiding in a blind. (Even while you're hidden in a blind, I'm convinced that the birds you photograph are aware of your presence at some level; they just don't recognize the shape of a blind as a threat.)

If moving slowly and gracefully is not your forte, it's possible to take excellent pictures of birds without ever learning to stalk. You'd just be more dependent on using blinds to hide yourself. But stalking is a fascinating method for getting close to birds, and by learning how to do it well, you'll be a better all-around bird photographer. You'll certainly be able to stay quieter and sit more still for long periods, which will help even if you do use a blind.

In situations where, for various reasons, it's impossible to get close enough to my subject by stalking, I always use a blind, because I prefer to work at the closest possible distances my telephoto lenses will allow. The minimum close focus of my 400mm lens is about 12 feet, and that's invariably the distance I try to shoot from. With my 300mm I get even closer. I try to work without a blind as much as possible because of the added mobility that stalking affords me. You may be amazed to think that someone could get close enough to take frame-filling pictures of a wild bird without hiding inside a blind, but I can assure you that it's possible. If you dress in drab clothing, move slowly, and spend hours in sometimes uncomfortable positions, many birds will come to accept your presence among them.