Photo Safaris - Getting Close, Using Blinds



				Ultimate Antarctica January 5–February 1, 2008

For three days the dead "kid" bounced around in the back of our pickup, baking in the weak spring sunshine of the southern Andean foothills while we scoured back roads for a suitable location to dump the body. Twice we tried — once on the side of a gravel stream bank, another in the middle of a grassy meadow — hoping that caracaras, or vultures, or condors would claim the body. But nothing did, and we collected our corpse and moved on.

On our fourth day we found the spot — a sandy-loamy landscape of rolling hills, clad in low sagebrush, less than a mile from a sandstone monolith hosting an enormous concentration of Andean condors. We grabbed the dead goat, tenderly now, since it was really getting ripe, and carried it over the low brush to a broad clearing. There, along the southern edge of the clearing and thirty yards from the goat, we dug a hole, a pit blind to be exact, where I planned to spend the next two days waiting for a hungry condor to fly down and feed.


	I used 'the coffin blind' to shoot a killdeer nest.

The hole was deep enough that I could sit inside it comfortably, with only my head and shoulders breaking the earth's contour. A large sheet of canvas covered my head and shoulders, and branches and rocks disguised the tarp as best we could; although now, in retrospect, I wish that we had added much more natural material to thoroughly conceal the tarp. The blind's preparation took the remainder of the day and on the morning of the next I crawled inside, while Mary and an amused gaucho threw limbs and leaves over the tarp to finish up the disguise. I sat inside, cold from the damp earth and increasingly bored as I watched the bloating goat and the small area of quiet sky visible from my hole. I lasted less than a day. This pit blind work was, quite literally, the pits!

Introducing blinds with this example perhaps paints an unnecessarily depressing picture, but I've been waiting years to write that lead paragraph! Blinds, or hides as they're called in Europe, often need to be nothing more than something that conceals the human form. It is, in fact, the rare subject that requires a blind to be camouflaged or inconspicuous, and those subjects are generally wary mammals or keen-eyed raptors. More often the only reason to have a camouflaged blind is to make it less conspicuous to people who might be tempted to investigate further.


Killdeer from the coffin blind.

Nonetheless, this depressing anecdote offers several lessons, in both technique and in psychology. Mary and I had been scouting out the Andes looking for a location to film condors, but I'd come unprepared for a successful shoot. Not knowing what we'd find, or where, I didn't have the proper materials along, and had planned, foolishly as it turned out, to make a makeshift blind out of whatever local material was available. We scouted the high country, where condors were supposed to frequent the snow-covered slopes and where sitting and waiting long hours in an icy landscape would have been the polar equivalent of hell. We checked out rocky hillsides, deserts and pastures, until we finally discovered the ideal location where we placed our bait.

As I said, we weren't prepared and, in retrospect, knowing what I now know about the wary Andean condor, the blind was far too conspicuous. Condors are incredibly shy, and my blind should have been virtually invisible to a human eye. It fell far short of that. I wasn't prepared mentally, either; not having any experience with condors, I had no idea how long I might have to wait for a bird to visit. As it turns out, condors may take days to investigate a carcass. Worse, I didn't have the proper clothing to see me through several days of sitting motionless in a damp hole, and comfort can be critical when conditions are less than ideal.


	This heavy plywood blind is useful in areas of high wind. I used it along the New Jersey coastline to film least terns.

Pit blinds — the most extreme of stationary blinds — can work, and I've used them successfully on bald eagles, kingfishers and other birds. Unlike a vehicle blind, which we discussed last month, pit blinds and most other stationary blinds involve a lot more work and preparation.

Stationary blinds of any type require you, the photographer, to place the blind where you'll be within shooting distance of your subject. Once a stationary blind is positioned, you're stuck, and moving it afterwards for any reason may involve some effort on your part and some risk that the movement will disturb your subject. So preplanning is a must.

Over the years I've used a variety of blinds, ranging from those awful pit blinds to refrigerator or washing machine boxes, pop tents, canvas shelters, camouflage cloth blankets, plywood walled blinds, floating blinds made of truck inner tubes, and commercially produced photographic blinds. All have worked, although some have done so with a far greater degree of comfort than have others. I've used blinds placed fifteen feet up a sturdy platform of commercial scaffolding, and thirty feet up a scary tower of homemade aluminum struts. In blinds I've filmed wild turkeys, shorebirds, kingfishers, songbirds, ducks, geese, herons, hawks, kites, owls, turtles, muskrats, bobcats, javelinas, ... well, a lot of subjects. I've used blinds because there was no other way to get close to my subjects without my presence disturbing them. Blinds conceal the photographer, allowing the subject to act naturally.

If you use a blind, be prepared to be patient and to spend at least several hours inside. Sometimes an hour or more may simply be required for the area around your blind to return to 'normal' after you've disappeared inside. Depending upon the subject, hours may simply be involved in waiting for something to happen. If you're sitting in an uncomfortable position or at an awkward angle, you'll suffer and chances are you won't remain inside very long.

Even when comfortable, time inside a blind can pass oh so slowly. Sitting inside and waiting requires the utmost patience, and unless you have all the time in the world, you may be thinking your time could be better spent. I find I never have enough time for anything, especially pleasure reading, so I pass the time sitting inside a blind doing just that.


The kingfisher perched on a branch above a wading pool I baited with minnows.

Now, there's a risk here. I've lost shots when my subject appeared unexpectedly and I noticed it too late or I couldn't get ready behind the camera, but at the same time, reading gave me something to do and kept me in the blind. Two hours with nothing happening can really drag when you're looking through a lens or blind porthole, but two hours spent catching up on neglected magazines or a good novel, well, that's quality time. Fortunately, many subjects announce their presence in some way. Kingfishers, for example, often give their distinctive rattling cry as they approach their nest, and many young birds act excited and get noisy when an adult approaches a nest. Other subjects may follow a pattern, returning to a nest, den, bait site or waterhole at a predictable time or interval, so even if you are occupied by reading periodic checks will keep you tuned in.

Besides spending the requisite time inside a blind, several other factors will determine your success. First and foremost, your blind must be positioned in a location where photography is possible, or at its optimum. Scout out your location beforehand. Determine the time of day you're likely to be shooting, and where the sun and the shadows will fall during that time frame. Pay attention to the surrounding brush or nearby trees. Will their shadows fall upon your shooting area during your shooting time? It's pretty frustrating to be inside a blind for an hour or so and then find that your coverage area is now being swallowed by an unexpected shadow.

Sitting inside a blind does little good if nothing comes near enough to photograph. Again, scouting beforehand will help. We have friends who use TrailMasters or the PhotoTrapper or similar counting devices to monitor several game trails before they choose the one where they will place their blinds. It does little good to have your blind situated near a game trail where nothing passes, or at the end of a waterhole opposite all the activity. Of course, you can do that scouting from inside your blind, just don't get too frustrated if you discover you are indeed at the wrong spot and the right one was within sight!

Although I am not an advocate of nesting bird photography, using a blind is one of the few ways you can photograph shy subjects at the nest. Whenever I can, however, I place my blinds around favorite perches I've seen my subjects using previously, and not around the nest itself. In doing so, I avoid the potential stress imposed on the nesting birds while I obtain images that are fresher than the clich nest shot. Bird feeding stations, bait stations, water holes, favorite perch sites, and even game trails, are likely spots to place a blind.

How quickly you place your blind depends upon the tolerance of your subject. Some subjects might require conditioning, where a blind is placed at a distance and moved closer every day or two. There's a risk there, however; if an animal requires moving a blind in by stages, your presence in the area as you move the blind may also disturb your subject. Mammals like foxes or coyotes may take their young to another den site and birds may simply desert the nest if continually disturbed. In both of these instances, I'd recommend thinking long and hard about even trying to make the image. Is it worth the risk to the subject?


	I placed decoys in front of the Rue blind to attract shorebirds and egrets.

Quite often I think it's more advisable to place your blind where you want it and then leave it be. Granted, you must consider the subject. Some subjects may not tolerate the intrusion, and simply plopping a blind down may cause desertion. That's usually not the case at bait sites, water holes or game trails. For these, simply erect the blind where you intend to photograph and leave it. Depending upon the subject, a few minutes to a few days may be necessary for your subjects to grow accustomed to the blind. Once they are, you're ready to go.

What type of blind you use depends upon several factors, but chief among these are the subject's tolerance of a structure and the blind's vulnerability to human onlookers. If you're shooting on private land or in an otherwise controlled environment where disturbance, vandalism or theft isn't a problem, then your choice is dictated solely by your subject's tolerance. If human interference is a potential problem, it should influence what type of blind you erect. And here you have at least three choices.

If you're concerned about theft or vandalism you can set up the blind each time you use it; you can conceal it so that it's less likely to be noticed; or you can use 'throw-away' blinds. The latter can be a cheap PVC structure with some inexpensive cloth, or a large refrigerator or washing machine carton large enough that you can fit inside. Such boxes are often available at appliance stores, although not always on demand. You may have to place a request or, more likely, visit several stores, often, until a new demo is unpacked. Big cardboard boxes don't look especially professional standing out in a field, but there are not a lot of tears shed if someone flattens it, either.

Inconspicuous blinds are a better choice, not so much for the aesthetics but for the fact that, if no one is attracted to your blind, the subject you hope to photograph will be safe. A washing machine cardboard carton sitting in a field might draw the curious. That person may not have a clue why you have a blind sitting out in a field or next to a stream. Inadvertently, or perhaps intentionally, anyone drawn to your blind could interrupt a fantastic shooting session, or, when you're not present, could so disturb the area that it loses its value. There's also the very real concern that your subjects could be placed at risk, especially if you were filming at a nest site or den.


I used this pit blind for the belted kingfisher. The lens hood was exposed and was kicked by a passer-by.

That's the reason I used a pit blind the very first time. I'd discovered a belted kingfisher nest in a little used section of a city park near my parent's home. Kingfishers nest in banks or cliffs, excavating a burrow with their beaks to form a deep, oblong tunnel. For some reason, some folks are compelled to block up any hole they find in such banks, and I worried that anyone attracted by my blind might later disturb or destroy the nest. Consequently, I felt it imperative that my presence not be visible to others.

The pit blind served another purpose, too. A traditional blind would have been extremely conspicuous on the creek's floodplain, and I worried that the bird wouldn't come near. By maintaining a low profile, I hoped the bird wouldn't notice my presence. But I went a step further — I didn't work the nest at all. Instead, I erected a perch about forty yards away from the nest that was on the kingfisher's usual flight path. Beneath it I placed a baby wading pool that I stocked with minnows. I reasoned that the kingfisher, flying to and from its nest, would eventually spot this smorgasbord, and fly in for an easy meal. Now I would be accomplishing two things. I'd be filming the bird away from the nest and my actions would pose no direct threat to the birds. Further, if they accepted my bait, my efforts would actually be of some benefit to the birds or their young.

My concerns over attracting attention to the nest were validated while I was filming. Covered by burlap and camouflage cloth, and topped off with grasses and leaves, the blind was almost invisible except for the dark hole formed by the lens hood of my telephoto. One day, some young teenagers walking along the stream spotted the wading pool and approached. I could hear their voices growing closer, but from my position I couldn't tell exactly how close they were until a voice sounded almost above me.

"What's this?" a boy asked, as he kicked the front of my lens hood. I let out a yell and jumped up, causing an explosion of leaves, grass and branches as I whipped the tarp away. The kids screamed — for them Hell had just opened up — and although I was annoyed at having my blind disturbed, I must admit I took some pleasure in scaring the pants off those kids.


	L.L.Rue's photo blind, partially open to reveal the interior.

But pit blinds are the exception. Whenever I can, I use a roomy, comfortable blind. My favorite is L.L.Rue's Ultimate Blind, a collapsible blind that quite literally erects, or collapses, in about thirty seconds. The blind comes in a choice of camouflage patterns, stands tall enough to sit in comfortably, and has two large lens ports and several Velcroed near-ground level ports for low-level work. I love it — it is quick to set up, light to carry, and versatile enough for most of my shooting.

John Shaw has recommended using a projection table as a blind, since these tables are fairly lightweight and, with adjustable legs, versatile at a number of heights. These tables can be moved about while you're inside, although you might find it difficult to move a blind, a tripod/lens combination, and a stool or chair all at the same time. I wasn't too keen on the idea myself, since the top of these projection tables is fairly narrow and might require adding an accessory sheet of plywood on top to give you more shoulder room. However, if you have an old projection table around, you might give it a try. It does work.

For ground-dwelling subjects or ground-nesting birds I have, on occasion, used either a long box I've lain beneath or a cloth or blanket draped over my body while lying prone. Although this provides a wonderful ground-level perspective, it can be hell on your back. Remember, although you are lying flat, your head must be elevated enough to look through a viewfinder. I was most comfortable in this position when I placed some type of cushion beneath my chest to prop me up. Otherwise I found the strain on my back too taxing to remain in the blind very long.

For water subjects, I've used a blind composed of a truck tire inner tube, a plywood top that covers the tube, a hanging seat, and a wire mesh top. Commercially produced 'bass rings' or 'float tubes' will also work, but you'll have to work out some type of camouflage top and a method to attach a tripod or at least a tripod head. A plywood top and a 3/8-inch stud will support most ballheads — just be careful that the top is secured and won't slide off the tube! Covered by cloth or vegetation these 'float blinds' often resemble muskrat lodges and they can be very effective for filming waterfowl and semi-aquatic mammals or reptiles at a near water-level position. Float blinds are mobile, but you must be extremely careful to move slowly, otherwise you'll spook your subject. After all, ducks aren't used to muskrat lodges jerking about! A better technique would be to get your blind into position and remain stationary, letting your subjects come to you.

You have to be especially careful with float blinds. I speak from experience. Once I was far out in a national wildlife refuge's lake when the wire mesh that covered the blind popped a leak in the inner tube. The tube began to deflate, my blind began to sink and, although I could have made it to a shoreline, deep-water channels separated me from the mainland. It was pretty nerve-wracking, but I managed to paddle the blind to the mainland before it lost all of its buoyancy. A good friend of mine had an even more harrowing experience. He built a blind that required he enter and exit the blind on land; in the water he was trapped inside. One winter day, while far out in a shallow lake, he hung the blind up on some branches. Although he wasn't in danger of sinking, he couldn't move, and he couldn't get out of the blind to walk or swim to safety. As the afternoon wore on he worried if he was going to be stuck there overnight, and in the chill temperatures, he worried about his long-term survival. Float blinds are useful, but they're dangerous, too, and probably deserve a special column in a future issue.

Regardless of the blind you use, make sure you have a comfortable seat. Some folks use folding campstools or lightweight, tripod-like stools comprised of three legs and a little bicycle-like seat. Others advocate using an upturned plastic bucket, arguing that the bucket can also be used to carry some of your gear to the site. Buckets work, I've used them, but the hard plastic edges can really dig into your seat. Make sure you have some type of pad over a bucket if you plan on being comfortable. I'd also recommend using a stool with a back, or better yet, a lawn chair instead. Lightweight plastic or collapsible patio chairs work great, and they're generally more roomy and comfortable than a stool. Whenever I can, I use a chair with armrests for the added comfort.

Blinds are fun. They've given me a window into the natural world that I'd otherwise not have. They require that you are well prepared, wear comfortable, weather-appropriate clothing, and have patience. If so, you will be rewarded with an intimate view of your wild subjects and some great images, too. At this moment, a juvenile Cooper's hawk is harassing the feeder outside my office. It's been doing so for several days now in the early afternoon. I think it's time I try my luck, get out my Rue blind, and do some sitting. Who knows? I may get lucky.



	Joseph Van Os Photo Safaris, Inc. P.O. Box 655, Vashon Island, Washington USA 98070 Phone: (206) 463-5383 Fax: (206) 463-5484 Email: info@photosafaris.com Copyright © 2008, Joseph Van Os Photo Safaris, Inc.