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The vast
majority of my images are taken with the camera mounted
firmly on a tripod. For the image of a great blue heron
catching a fish for dinner, however, I used a much different
type of tripod: the side wall of an inflatable kayak that
was beached on lily pads.
I had taken many
rowing trips in the waterways of the Washington Park
Arboretum in Seattle before capturing this image. Several
herons live in the park and I've always been fascinated that
the prehistoric-looking birds with six-foot wingspans are
even able to fly. On one rowing trip, a heron flew over my
boat - in its beak was a fish that was more than a foot
long. I didn't have a camera with me that time, but I
started thinking about how I could capture such an image the
next time I was on the water.
My first concern
was finding a boat I could use as a photographic platform.
On that first trip, I was in a metal row boat that I had
rented from the University of Washington. The waters around
the marsh are relatively calm, but I wanted to find a boat
that would absorb more of the waves. I settled on a
two-person inflatable kayak. The boat's soft sides could be
used as giant cushions, helping me to hold my long lenses
steady. The room for the second person would give me plenty
of space to stow my gear or to crouch down to hide from the
birds.
Next, I needed
to find a way to keep my gear dry. The waterproof storage
containers at marine supply shops would protect my camera
even if it fell overboard, but they were also heavy and
bulky. My concern was keeping splashes from the oars from
landing on the camera equipment. It's not airtight, but
large Sterilite storage containers would do fine. (For my
much smaller point-and-shoot digital camera, I use one of
the disposable GladWare food containers instead.) For extra
protection, I wrap a bath towel around the camera and lens.
That towel is also helpful for wiping splashes off the lens
before putting it away.
Finally, I
needed to find feeding heron.
In spite of
their size, herons tend to feel threatened the moment a
person comes into view and will take off if people come
closer than a dozen or so yards. Even with a 400mm lens
attached to my camera, I needed to get a little bit closer
than that.
The last thing I
want to do is to disturb wildlife, so I approach very slowly
and take pictures from a distance the animal is comfortable
with. In the case of this heron, I started my approach more
than 100 feet away, rowing the final 80-85 feet over a
period of 15 minutes.
The problem with
an inflatable kayak is that it tends to catch the wind and
start drifting. To avoid that, I picked a vantage point that
was on top of a number of lily pads. They weren't a perfect
anchor, but they stopped the boat from drifting any great
distance.
Once into
position, I slid down, pulled the camera out of the storage
container, and rested the lens on the side of the boat. The
only thing the heron should have been able to see was the
kayak and the end of the lens. Since I didn't plan to move
until I got my shot, I took put the lens in the manual focus
mode, focused on the heron and waited. By setting the lens
to manual focus, the camera would be much more responsible
when the time came to start snapping pictures. In automatic
focus, the camera checks to make sure the image is in focus
before it snaps any shots; in manual focus, it takes
pictures immediately.
I spent more
than two hours watching the heron try to catch fish. When
it's getting ready to poke its head underwater, it moves its
head around in a circular motion, giving me plenty of
advance notice to get my finger on the shutter.
The camera I
used to capture this image can capture three shots per
second in a burst up to eight images. As soon as the heron
started to plunge its head, I held down the shutter button.
This image was the third in the series. That's one fast
heron: It plunged its head underwater and pulled out this
fish in slightly more than one second.
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