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Last April Wayne went to Sweden to photograph the spring courtship behavior of
the capercaillie, the largest grouse in the world. During the breeding season
the turkey-sized capercaillie struts and calls from small open areas in the
pine forests. To photograph this wary bird, Wayne had to enter his blind before
sunset and sleep on the frozen ground overnight, hoping that the birds would be
within camera range when the early light of dawn bathed the forest floor in
golden light. In the end, he froze his toes and spent over 80 hours inside three
different blinds. His efforts were rewarded with just two photo opportunities,
each lasting less than ten seconds. Wayne spent five weeks in Sweden and had a
wonderful time, but the trip was a photographic failure. I was happy I didn't
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Wayne in Sweden beside his
capercaillie blind. In five weeks, he saw dozens of the birds and discovered
much about their biology, but did not get a single good photograph.

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go. I'm okay when it comes to spending many hours in a blind, but I wouldn't
have coped well with the long tiring nights, the extreme cold and the need to
sleep on the frozen ground. I can be tough when I have to be, but I still don't
have what it takes to be a real winner at this game. Not yet, anyway. A
professional nature photographer is not simply someone who endures frigid nights
inside a cramped blind, or someone who shoots 1000 rolls of film in a year or
owns the latest auto focus technology. Neither is it someone who spends bags of
money to search for an elusive critter. What separates Wayne from me is
attitude. Attitude is the key attribute of a professional nature photographer.
I'll let Wayne explain what he means by this.

Don't Compare Oranges With Apples.

Last summer we traveled with a shipload of clients on the Joseph Van Os Photo
Safaris Svalbard/Spitzbergen expedition. The trip was an overwhelming success.
We saw more than twenty polar bears, and one was so close it leaned on the hull
of the ship and strolled within wide-angle camera range for over 30 minutes. The
highlight, however, had to be the subadult polar bear feeding on a bearded seal
kill. We maneuvered the ship to capture the moment from every possible angle,
and after an hour we retired to the back deck for our Fourth of July barbeque.
With the bear still eating nearby, we munched on grilled chicken legs, danced
and celebrated. Other highlights of the trip included unwary seals loafing on
the pack ice, swirling flocks of kittiwakes wheeling across the face of a deep
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This ain't Kansas, Toto, but
it's still pretty nice. Here, a Svalbard polar bear feeds on a bearded seal
kill.

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blue glacier, elusive ivory gulls, grazing caribou, and hovering arctic terns
washed by the amber glow of the evening light. Wow! Naturally, some of our days
in Svalbard were spent searching for wildlife in the pack ice. During these
photo lulls, I sometimes heard people mumble that Svalbard was great, but it
wasn't Antarctica. No surprise, I guess, since there are no polar bears or
walrus in Antarctica and, if that is where these folks were headed, they turned
left when they should have turned right. Nothing is like Antarctica, or the
Serengeti or the Galpagos Islands. Each is unique; each has its surprises and
rewards, as well as its shortcomings and disappointments. The point is that a
professional photographer takes each destination as it is, and sees what there
is to see. Comparing Antarctica to Svalbard, or any other favorite location, is
the same as comparing oranges with apples. I'm not saying that you can't have
choice locations that you enjoy more than others. But the professional
photographer stays open to the attributes of each new travel destination. When
you do, you are more likely to discover the true worth of each, and less likely
to frustrate yourself with illogical comparisons.

All Experiences Are Valid.

What makes me, as a photographer, different from a non-photographer is my desire
to capture my experiences on film, which I can then share with others. As all of
you know, what we capture on film is never the full sensory breadth of an
experience. The still photograph is only a visual record of an instant in time,
divorced from the sounds, smells and emotions of the moment. The professional
photographer knows that the captured image is never as rich as reality, and that
the value of an experience is not validated by a camera. Too often,
photographers get discouraged if they can't photograph, and thus limit the range
of experiences they let themselves enjoy. Many of you are nodding your head and
agreeing that this is foolish thinking, yet how often do you stay indoors when
the light is bad? How often do you let a cloudy weekend sour your disposition?
The attitude of the professional photographer is "Experience life first,
capture it on film second." I was reminded of this while photographing owls
over the past three winters. Even though I have some nice owl photos to show for
my efforts, my best experiences, by far, are only memories: the hawk owl
attacking a male widgeon in midair, the headfirst plunge dive of a hungry great
gray owl into a bank of powder snow, or the attack on a short-eared owl by an
angry northern harrier. I recorded none of these moments on film but they are
still treasured memories, and still valid experiences even if I have no
photographs to "prove" that I saw them.

Have Camera, Will Carry.

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An unwary walrus loafs along the
shoreline in Svalbard. The shot was taken on a gray, rainy day with fill flash
and an 80-200mm zoom.

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"Which lens should I bring? Will I need a tripod? Do you think I should
bother bringing a flash?" I wish I had a free roll of film for every time I
was asked one of these questions. For the non-professional these are legitimate
questions, but the attitude of the professional is "I make photographs and
to do that, I need photo equipment, all my photo equipment." The reason for
this is simple. No one. Let me repeat that. No one, knows what you will see on a
photo outing, so it is futile to try to predict which lens you will need,
whether a tripod will be necessary, or whether flash will save the day. I
remember an incident that happened on the Svalbard trip. From the ship that
afternoon, Augustabukta beach looked wet, gray and dismal but we could see a
pile of lounging walrus, so naturally we loaded up the Zodiacs and headed
ashore. Everyone was excited, but a few in the group decided not to bring camera
gear with them. They probably reasoned that because it was raining and overcast,
no possible photos could be made on such a day. Alas, within moments of arriving
on shore, they discovered what a mistake they had made. The walrus were unlike
any I have ever seen in my many years traveling in the Arctic. The blubbery
beasts approached the Zodiacs within arm's length, and they loafed along the
shoreline just 15 feet from our cameras. It was a wonderful shot. When you added
a little fill flash, it was a great shot. The photographers who didn't bother to
bring their cameras learned a valuable lesson. Bring all of your equipment, all
of the time. No one knows what you might see.

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The sand dunes of the Sahara
were a highlight of our March Morocco trip. We had no idea they would be so
beautiful, and they easily surpassed our expectations.

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Temper Your Expectations.

Most of us watch nature programs on television, subscribe to wildlife magazines,
attend the occasional photo seminar and often pour over the pages of Outdoor
Photographer. All of us recognize a high quality photograph and enjoy
looking at one. Most of us also appreciate the patience, planning, effort and
occasional serendipity involved in capturing such images on film. Or do we?
Unfortunately, unrealistic expectations can sometimes cloud your judgment and
leave you disappointed and disgruntled. It's easy to forget that great nature
photographs usually occur by design and effort, not by chance. Let me use myself
as an example. I've been fortunate to photograph the wonderful wildlife of East
Africa on a dozen separate trips. Every trip was different, and I feel I have a
good selection of images. Even so, realistically, my coverage is trivial
compared with my fellow columnists Joe and Mary Ann McDonald who've been to
Kenya many more times than I have. The key is time. Every professional
photographer quickly realizes that the amount of time you spend with a subject
is the main factor that determines how good your photographs will be. So, if you
go on a two-week vacation to the Pantanal you can realistically expect to take
more photographs than the person who spends two days, but not as many
photographs as the person who spends two months. It's all pretty simple. More
time = more photos. Less time = fewer photos. When your expectations match the
time you invest in the field, more of your photo trips suddenly seem successful,
and you're one step closer to acquiring the attitude of a pro.

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