Ultimate Antarctica
January 5–February 1, 2008
"Opportunity only knocks once, son. Carpe diem! Seize the day, Joseph, make the most of what life gives you." Thats what my Granpappy said as he slowly chewed on the stem of an old corn cob pipe, rocking on the front porch of the old farmhouse. ... OK, he really didnt say that; in fact, I cant recall ever having a conversation with the man, but it sounded profound for a second there, didnt it? Despite this little bit of fiction, the point—take advantage of every opportunity that arises—still holds, especially as it applies to photography.

I must admit that I often dont follow this advice—not because Im lazy or passing on an opportunity, but instead because I dont have my gear with me. Last fall I was in southern Argentinas beech forests and discovered the nest of a Magellanic woodpecker, a spectacular crimson-headed bird that I had hoped to see on every trip I ever made to that part of the world. Since we were backpacking and shooting scenics, I didnt have a long lens along, and consequently I missed what was probably the chance of a lifetime to shoot close-ups of that bird.

On that same trip I came within twenty-five yards of a wild puma for twenty or thirty minutes and again I didnt get a photograph. My excuse: I spotted the cat in the predawn, probably a good hour before any type of shootable light, and when I jumped out of my vehicle hoping to get just a glimpse of the cat, I never dreamed Id be walking alongside it for nearly half an hour!

I could probably fill a column recounting such photo horror stories about the shots that got away. But I am a realist and I know Im not going to photograph every interesting thing I see. To Mary and me, it is often enough to be able to just see a wild cougar up close, or to finally get a great view of an elusive woodpecker that I had hoped to see for over twelve years!

When we see things wed like to shoot or, when we mess up a great photographic opportunity for whatever reason, we simply chalk the experience up to what we call our "neurochromes." Each neurochrome, or mental picture, becomes a data point for us. These bits of data, while perhaps marking some low points in our photography, nonetheless have real value allowing us to learn from our mistakes. Even more importantly, all of these field experiences, whether they ended up as a photograph or not, create a body of knowledge, a personal encyclopedia of field and photo information that we can draw on when needed.

Its amazing how this can work for you. Animal behavior often shares similarities even among different species. Perhaps it is because weve observed such a variety of animals that weve developed a sense of what to expect—when a bird is about to take flight, when an antelope is going to scent mark, or when a lion is going to roar. Some of this experience was garnered while we photographed, some while we simply observed.

While collecting these data points is fine, I wouldnt want to mislead you or lull you into being complacent when opportunities arise. I must stress this, because it can be so easy to be lazy, to put off attempting to photograph something until later when it can be done now—if you just get off your duff and do it. I speak from bitter experience, as some of the photographic opportunities have disappeared, because I've procrastinated, much to my surprise and very real regret.

A kingfisher nesting in a stream bank within a hundred yards of our home at Hoot Hollow is a classic case in point. Thirteen years ago, these shy and elusive birds not only nested in a stream bank within sight of our house, but one year they also nested in a bank I built when we excavated our pond. True, I did spend some time photographing the kingfishers when they nested there, but I did not devote nearly as much time to the birds as I should have. Instead, I made the incorrect assumption that the kingfishers would always be nesting along our stream. They have not.

This week, kingfishers sang their rattling cry from the trees and telephone wires that parallel our streambed. Although their former nest site in the steep clay bank is still there, and in better shape than it has been in years, I dont have a great deal of hope that the birds will resume nesting in the area. So Im developing a plan that I hope will result in new kingfisher photos, even if they do not nest nearby. Despite all of my efforts, I know Im only trying to make up for neglecting what was once a slam-dunk photo opportunity.

As the kingfisher story illustrates, its easy to be complacent and procrastinate, assuming that a photo op will always be there. This is especially easy to do when a photography subject isnt overwhelmingly compelling. A few years ago in Arizona we were based at a lodge noted for hummingbirds, acorn woodpeckers and other bird species. Bobcats and cougars lived in the area, too, and Im sure that, given the opportunity, everyone there would have dropped whatever they were doing to photograph a wild cat. There wasnt a cat around, but there was another furtive mammalian species, an animal that has been photographed in the wild very infrequently, despite its relative abundance. Im talking about pocket gophers!

Tiny, volcano-like mounds of earth scattered around the grassy areas of the lodge marked the diggings of these burrowing rodents that are rarely seen outside their underground lairs. Although their mounds were everywhere, Mary and I, like most people, had rarely seen a gopher. Admittedly, pocket gophers are not as enticing to film as a bobcat or cougar, but theyre wildlife, just the same.

One day, just outside our room a pocket gopher discovered the birdseed we had spread for jays and juncos and, within a very short time, the gopher grew amazingly tame. When the gopher first appeared it would, as expected of any subterranean mammal, duck out of sight at the slightest disturbance. Surprisingly, though, it wasnt very long before the gopher began reappearing almost as quickly as it disappeared—and soon the gopher seemed to even respond to the name wed given it. "Goofy" would pop up out of its burrow to stuff huge quantities of seed into its seemingly limitless cheek pouches whenever we passed by or called its name.

Sure, Goofy was only a glorified rat, a slate gray rodent with caramel colored buckteeth, but the gopher was a great subject for anyone who could appreciate the unique opportunity it offered. As a photographer from Oregon observed, "Ive lived around gophers all my life and have never really seen one. We have them in our yard, yet I had to travel to Arizona to get one. My photography friends wont believe this!" One of the few people to recognize this opportunity, he spent a lot of time lying on his belly, macro lens in hand, snapping off frames whenever Goofy vacuumed our piles of mixed seed.

This year, we returned to that lodge and although we fed our birds in the same location Goofy, or any other friendly pocket gopher, never appeared. We didnt expect one to, but it illustrates our point: Seize an opportunity when it arises. If you dont, you may never get another chance.





Joseph Van Os Photo Safaris, Inc. P.O. Box 655, Vashon Island, Washington USA 98070
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