Elliott Neep Wildlife Photography Blog

Arctic Expedition: Here we go again!

2009-07-16T08:46:00.003+01:00

It is a rare event in one's life when you can turn around and say "Hey, I don't want to go home just yet. I think I'm going to stay for a little while longer..." and that is exactly what we did. We disembarked from the Vavilov along with everybody else and three hours later (thanks to the fantastic Exodus team), we climbed back on board! OK, so first an apology to our fellow travellers who looked understandably sick with envy (Hehehe!) as they hugged us goodbye and walked off through airport security.

We could not wait to get back on the ship. We ran outside of the airport, climbed into the nearest taxi and piled back on board the Vavilov. The crew were great, welcoming us back with open arms, albeit with some surprised expressions. The Captain, recognising us from our many hours on the bridge, looked the most bemused... "You were here, then you leave... now you are back?! This is fantastic news...!"

We hung around, unpacked, and then had the bizarre time of being onboard with no other passengers. The crew were back to being just friends surfing the web, chilling out on ipods, and popping to the shops.

Watching the new passengers arrive was a little strange. A bit like "what are you doing on my ship?!" I spotted Jonathan and Angela Scott, side by side with Chris Packham - the star attractions. They were not here to lead, that was now Woody's job. The 'celebs' were here to accompany passengers, host talks, provide photographic guidance, and entertain with anecdotes. (If anyone reading this is looking for dirt or cutting remarks, look somewhere else. The Scotts and Chris were a brilliant laugh!)

As the Vavilov set sail once again, Jacq and I looked at each other with slightly apprehensive expressions and silently acknowledged that this was either a stroke of brilliance, or bordering insanity! Either way, it should be another incredible ten days!

Arctic Expedition: Back in Hornsund

2009-07-15T20:05:00.006+01:00

Back in arguably the most beautiful fjord in the Svalbard Archipelago, the faithful and determined crew put in extra watches to scope out the elusive Nanuk. The vigil did not go without reward...

The all too familiar composition of a tiny bear and massive ice

The call was made and the sighting of a polar bear was confirmed. Again, off in the discernible distance, close to the glacial wall, a majestic polar bear was walking on ice. Raising its massive head to sniff the air from time to time, the polar bear tracked back and forth across the ice, attempting to narrow down the delectable scent, right down to its origin... a fat seal.

Time ticked by, but nobody noticed... well those watching the bear anyway. If you can believe it, someone said "If you have seen one, you have seen them all... we should move on." They were sat in the bar! If I had my way, they would have walked the short-plank to Davey Jones icey locker!

"Just get in there you chicken!"

Gradually, but most definitely, the bear began to wander toward the ship. The bear was still so far away, I had time to nip down to the stern and photograph a few guillemots, perched on the ice flow. At first, there was more than twenty, but as I set-up, I could feel the ship drifting.

We were moving away at the same rate the bear was approaching... Mystified as to the reasoning behind this, I shot the remaining three guillemots (the rest having been scared off my the moving ship) as they dove and flapped their escape and headed back up to the bow.

We were floating 300mtrs from the edge of the ice flow, where the polar bear had now come to rest. If we had held position, we would have been right on top. An tortuous wait ensued as we stared at the bridge, willing them to power up the engines... Then I was told the engines take 30mins to warm-up. If I was in a state of disbelief, Paul was apoplectic! Radioing, mouthing, and gesticulating, Paul did his best to speed things along.

At last, our bear sighting didn't require Hubble. The bow heaved with people trying to get the best view. A few of us were well placed to make the most of it, having been on the bow for several hours

After an agonising delay, we finally moved forward, but the power was slightly overcooked and we motored toward the bear a little too quickly. The bear stirred, looked up, stood up and began a slow walk away. The male bear mouthed and yawned, looking over his shoulder, most disgruntled at the approaching object.

This is the closest we came to a polar bear as it skirted the weaker ice close to water. I timed the shot to reveal the in-step and gigantic paw

The crew regained their composure, and the ship drifted silently along. As the bear rounded a curve in the ice, our speed matched his step-for-step. I did not even need to turn the tripod head, the speed was absolutely perfect! I picked my moments to shoot off frames when the bear turned to face us, which he did frequently.

Composing shots with the tracks, I tried for something a little different... knowing full well it has all been done before!

As the bear began to get away from us, I changed positions, swapping the bow for the top deck. Using a 70-200mm I composed the last contextual shot of the bear, deep into the image, atop a mosaic of broken sea ice. The landscape is immense!

This shot looks much better in large format! The bear is the dot in the upper left corner close to the edge of the sea ice. I think this really conveys how difficult they can be to spot

After this most exhilarating of encounters, some chatted with friends and bystanders, some stared onward at the departing bear, some stood motionless and silent... and the brilliant euphoric few... they wept.

I tried over and over to capture the feeling of racing along in the zodiac

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur as I kept re-running the bear encounter through my mind. We took a trip somewhere where the remains of whales lay on the shingle beaches like macabre tombstones. The armed crew created a perimeter within which we could wonder freely.

I felt hard-pressed to find anything beautiful, so photographed one of the crew in a desolate landscape. Cheery, eh?

I know a few people are interested in the cultural history, but really... I was there to enjoy the splendour of the wilderness and the remarkable wildlife, so visiting a whale graveyard is not exactly my bag.

Another perspective shot, with the zodiac no more than an insignificant speck in this awesome landscape

We returned to Hornsund one last time... staying long enough to see another bear that we could not get close too. Even though it was 2:30am, the light was utterly bewitching. The bear looked golden as it slumbered in the pure white snow.

The colours and lines of the landscape changed constantly with the light and clouds. As I had already shot so many with the wideangle, I opted for the 600mm to zero-in on specific lines of form

A gravel bank prevented us from getting any closer, so the passengers were not woken... just the privileged few were there to watch and to be amazed. As I stood on deck, I could not help be drawn into a stupefying, jaw-dropping gaze - Hornsund looked absolutely incredible. The light painted the mountainsides, casting deep blue shadows and etching snowy rims with warm glowing highlights. The memories of this day will stay with my forever. My thanks to those that were there to make it so memorable.

Arctic Expedition: Pushing East

2009-07-14T15:31:00.008+01:00

Hornsund was magical, but it was time to put a few nautical miles under the belt, so we travelled 120 of them overnight to reach the eastern passages of Spitzbergen. The ice maps showed various break-ups so we were now aiming to push up to the denning areas around Storfjorden and Edgeoya.

Remember me saying that the ice maps were always 24hrs old... well it doesn't help when finalising travel plans! We arrived in the area to find a mass of closely packed fast ice. The ship had to slow down to just a couple of knots, before eventually resigning to the fact that we could not get through.

Tracking a fulmar into the bow had an unexpected result, with the feathering of the white bow in the bottom of the frame, it almost looks like a tropical sea.

The sea ice was still three miles away, but the ice flow was too dense and too dangerous as there is always the risk of being sealed in. It was so frustrating to come so far and be sooooo near, but unable to proceed. But that is just the way of it. The ice flow had calmed the sea to a mirror, so I took another opportunity to photograph the fulmars and kittiwakes gliding past the ship.

I like shots where the background gives immediate placement for the subject. There is no doubt where this was shot!

To provide us with a little perspective, the aqua-paps decamped to the zodiacs and spent a couple of hours exploring the floating works of 'ice art' and photographing birds. The ice flow was very well packed, but the individual mini-bergs were a wonder - I have never seen such intense blues. There are photographers that can compose these floating sculptures into the most amazing images... but I settled for keeping just this one frame out of about fifty.

My favourite 'ice flow' shot of the trip. Not the best in the world, but I love the range of blues from inky-black, right through to turquoise and the lightest aqua.

Photographing from a zodiac is quite challenging in itself, even on calm water. The gentle rise and fall persists even if the surface is like a millpond. The fact that it was bright sunshine, certainly helped, keeping shutter speeds nice and fast, even with an f/16.

Using the other zodiacs (you are always partners with on other) can always be entertaining. It is difficult to describe some situations when you get home, so photographing other passengers gives provides a little perspective. They are great for my travelogue portfolio too!

I did say it was "good to turn the camera inward once in while..." Especially if you are wearing mirrored glasses that can show what is behind the camera. Serendipity played a hand here... I didn't really know that James was pointing or that Alastair had his camera raised.

Photo by June Sparham

As soon as the zodiacs were back on board and everybody accounted for, we set off to return to the west coast to explore Hornsund and Bensund all over again. Some on board broadcast their malcontent most vociferously... but what the hell we were supposed to do?! The Vavilov is not an ice-breaker and this is a wilderness and ice-flow is a natural and rather unpredictable feature of the Arctic. To visit the Arctic and expect everything to go to plan with all the places you want to see be free of ice is nothing short of blind misjudgement (or gerbil-faced optimism).

I had quickly grown fond of the Vavilov crew and to hear the inordinately griping frustrations of a myopic minority was more than enough for me to sound aloud a few well timed incredulous expressions of "What the hell did you expect?! This is "THE ARCTIC !"

After a few of these encounters, I decided to head for the outer decks to rejoin my fellow snappers and grab just a few more 'bird-in-flight' shots. Actually, I decided to slink off after a while and find a very quiet spot to appreciate the solitude of a wind-blown stern.

The fulmars were filing past like the Heathrow stack. It was magical. Rarely, have I enjoyed photographing birds so much. It was absolutely freezing... raw! The crosswind buffeted the lens so much, I had to look for shelter.

A portrait shot for Paul G. Always thinking about it mate!

But all the while, the fulmars continued to glide past serenely, completely unaffected and unflinching against the wind. The sunlight was backlit, but soft, so I continued to photograph the birds as they rode the waves crests, slipped into the troughs, and rose high. The light made the wings glow and create a halo around their edges.

Birds in blue skies are fine, but these birds are bloody tough. They ride the waves in the fiercest storms, so why not try to capture that?

When the sun reappeared from behind its cloudy veil, I climbed the stairs to huddle in a sheltered corner and used the ship as a giant, reflective, up-lighter. With the sunlight radiating from the white surfaces, the birds were illuminated from underneath, making them glow against the blue sky.

Fulmar (Blue sky... Hmmm)

Glaucous Gull (Blue sky... yawn!)

After nearly 8Gb (yes you read correctly!), I felt that my 'track & pan' skills were now fully honed! My arm was aching, but it was so addictive. To have so many birds flying past, in the same predictable path, simply presenting themselves for a photograph, is something that no wildlife photographer could ignore.

Arctic Expedition: Searching the Fjords

2009-07-13T08:01:00.005+01:00

By the time we had finished breakfast, it was clear that some passengers were eager to move on. There had been no further sightings. The principal of waiting for wildlife had completely passed them by and all that mattered was seeing polar bears quickly, plus a few ramshackle trapper huts. Joy!

The plan was announced and we would shortly be underway to another arm of the Hornsund fjord system called Burgabukta for a zodiac cruise, whereby we all jump into the inflatables and blast/float around the bays (depending on your driver) and explore the shores. But then we would return to Hornsund to give it more time... Like your style!

It would be fair to say that it scenery was magnificent. There were two deep bays running east and west, both headed by glaciers and ice flows. In the middle, a monumental, towering limestone cliff played host to several thousand kittiwakes. "Good for arctic fox too..." My ears pricked up immediately!

Bear tracks at the edge of snow, just beneath a sky-rise kittiwake colony.

The cruise was good fun, but it was all about the birds. There were plenty of fox and bear prints, but they were first considered and then rejected as being too old to warrant any investigation. The zodiacs patrolled the shore and passengers brandished their lenses at the wary birds bobbing on the water or flying overhead.

A kittiwake shot with a bit of interaction. One flies in to land, while those already perched let it know that it is not welcome.

I asked whether we could cruise slowly past a piece of ice after spotting two black guillemotts perched on top. The direction and speed was perfect and just as the 2nd bird fluttered away, I captured its launch and the first wing beats. Further on, a raft of eiders were taking off, resulting in a blaze of shutters from all around.

I have wanted to photograph these birds for ages and I was really pleased that I captured a shot with some action, rather than just bobbing in the water.

Ahead of us, on the ice flow, more eiders were shifting nervously and began to herd together - a good sign of an impending group take-off. Just in time, I raised the camera and panned as the eiders ran along the ice and took off. Thankfully, I was shooting in Manual so the exposure remained constant throughout, as did the light level.

Borderline arse-shot, but I think there is enough 'side' on these eiders. It would have been better to have at least one male eider in the group, but the lazy bugger was straggling behind.

With most birds accounted for, we headed back to the Vavilov and returned to Hornsund... where a polar bear awaited us! The announcement was made over loudspeaker and the Vavilov hummed with a thousand footsteps beating a path to the outer decks. Still distant, but photographable (albeit contextual), the polar bear was walking parallel to the ship against a mighty backdrop of snowy mountains and a sky-high glacier.

Although tiny in the frame, this shot is all about context, perspective, and scale. The striations in the snow add an extra dimension to the scene.

This was more like it. I could clearly see this wonderful animal plodding majestically through the snow. We took our positions and snapped what we could. I used one-shot to focus on the bear and then recompose the image. It bugs me that focus points are so concentrated on the centre of the viewfinder when I am always looking to place distant subjects in the corners. I shot with extra depth-of-field to bring more relief into the background, but also to keep things crisp when shooting such a long range.

Even with f/16, the glacial wall is still soft, but it has much more detail than if I had just left it on f/5.6. I love the blue hues created by the 'borrowed light' from the blue sky above.

Through my lens I could see the polar bear scraping away some snow ("No, no, no..." said a frustrated Paul) and flopped down for a snooze, much to the frustration of all. Now, the waiting game. Would it be a snooze, or the 'full monty' 7-8hr slumber?

The background is a mountainside in shade. The backlit white plumage makes a striking contrast against the deep blues.

The passengers steadily filed back to the lounge bar for hot refreshments, knowing there was a dedicated and committed contingent with eyes fixed on the bear, ready to announce the slightest movement. In the meantime, I shot a few frames of the birds flying around the ship. On the starboard side I photographed backlit kittiwakes against the shady, snowy mountainside which rendered a fantastic shade of blue.

Time to leave, the polar bear walks away, but closer to the glacial wall. Just look at the size of it! And this is a small glacier.

The polar bear rested for a couple of hours, before rising again and walking back to where it had come from. This came as a bit of a disappointment as it looked, at one point, that the bear would head out to the seals, closer to the ship. For one reason or another, the bear had other plans and strolled away. As it departed, it looked incredible, dwarfed by a multi-storey, deep blue glacial wall. I hope this last image gives some scale and some insight into how difficult these animals are to spot!

Arctic Expedition: Hornsund Part 2

2009-07-12T12:08:00.008+01:00

It is always good to turn the camera inward once in while. These shots give a great sense of the excitement and anticipation brought on by a polar bear sighting.

Hornsund was soon becoming my favourite location despite seeing an adult male polar bear, then a mother with cub, all frustratingly too far. Every passenger was out looking for the bears. Above the bridge, the deck was lined with camera lenses and binoculars. Those with a camera were shooting very, very contextual shots, but it was way too far for my liking. But there was plenty else for me to focus on.

I tried this shot over and over, finally capturing that balance between 'arse shot' and take-off. The two splashes are contained well in the frame and the wings are in a great position. Definitely a keeper.

The ship was now wedged in the ice and the wildlife around was settling down again. The bearded seal resumed its afternoon slumber and the fulmars and other seabirds had taken to gliding past the ship, bobbing in the water, or perched on the ice-flow. The most difficult birds to shoot were the fast-flying auks - guillemots, black guillemots, little auks, and the odd puffin.

This was about the best that I could manage in a day and a night at Horsund. It is sharp, but it is also a 20% crop to make it acceptably large enough in the frame.

News filtered through that, due to the bear sightings and the amount of tracks and seals, we would be staying put until the next day. Brilliant!!! This place was just too good to leave anyway and now we could settle in. The light was harsh at first, so I went for landscapes... strangely enough. I converted the images in Lightroom using the Grayscale sliders to control the blue luminance and the white balance to control overall brightness and tonal range.

While the sunlight was strong and the water mirror-calm, I composed these reflection shots. The contrast actually suited the landscape, when viewed with the intention of converting to monochrome. I am certainly no landscaper, but the stark geography was perfect with its bold lines and form.

As the afternoon progressed, fog rolled in and drew a veil over the landscape and ice. For most of us, it was time to warm up with a nice cup of tea! It is the only issue with visiting the Arctic in June. High pressures roam around trapping fog beneath them and now we were under one. Nobody knew how long the fog would last... thankfully it wasn't long at all.

The patchwork of ice surrounding us made for the most idyllic landscape photography. It was peaceful, tranquil, restful, and serene. The patterns in the ice provided the foreground interest, the sky and mountains drawing the eye into the image. Even though I was on a ship with over 100 passengers and crew, I felt completely alone. As evening progressed, most retired to the lounge bar, but a hardcore group of snappers continued to prowl the decks.

I had been looking at this scene for some time before I took the shot. The light was still too bright until it passed behind a large cloud. I just loved the floating ice, the sea ice extending from the mountains, the diagonal line taking you from left to right, and the reflection of that perfect mackerel sky.

As evening progressed into night (although the sunlight is almost just as bright) the light changed to become softer and warmer than at any time during the day. The fog had completely cleared and the scene before us was simply mesmerising - without a doubt, the most spectacularly beautiful location I have EVER been too.

I thought Paul G was going to explode, running around the decks 360° waving his lens in every direction, commanding passengers to "grab your bloody polariser and get outside!" Absolutely hilarious... Then the moment we had all been waiting for... No, not a polar bear, but Paul's classic line: "Now I'm gonna put some manners on this thing!" So, he ran off to put an EOS 1V with Velvia slide film on his lens. Love it... pure 'Gold'.

This shot was taken from the top deck which provided the best viewpoint to encompass the ice and mountains. The piece of ice in front of the bow (in the foreground of the above image) with polar bear tracks crossing in an 'X' pattern.

The one thing this incredible scene still lacked was a chunky polar bear surveying the scene from a floating patch of ice and that is how it would remain. I had photographed until about 2:30am and Jacq had become a camera widow... But what an amazing place and how lucky were we with the weather?!

Arctic Expedition: Hornsund Part 1

2009-07-11T16:35:00.005+01:00

As one spends a great deal of time on the Vavilov, it soon occurs that one should not just sit in the observation lounge stuffing cakes and drinking tea - although some did. It is easy to do, but you really miss so much, especially when exploring the fjord systems. When you are covering open sea - fair enough - sit back, let your hair down, and make some friends.

But in the fjords, surrounded by the towering majesty of snow-covered mountains, islands and islets overflowing with seabirds, peculiar lenticular clouds wafting over the peaks, passing fast ice and carved chunks of glacial blue ice... I don't think so. It just felt so good to be outside in the fresh air. It wasn't even that cold, usually just above freezing.

A few of us constantly prowled the decks, snapping passing seabirds, burned our eyes searching for Nanuk, and experimented with landscape compositions, reshooting the same landscape as the light and clouds changed and morphed. A few 'strange folk' even took photos of other people and composed shots with features of the ship... Just kidding.

I had tried throughout the trip to capture this image without realising that I had already shot it in the first few days, doh! I love the perfect mirror image and glancing wing blemishing the mirror's surface.

Photographing birds in flight has always come very easy to me, but many struggle. I was really happy to help anybody that asked for advice and usually offered it freely anyway. Tracking and panning birds became somewhat of an addiction for some - all trying to nail that perfect fulmar, kittiwake, or glaucous gull, with a pin sharp eye, wings in a good position, centre in the frame, and without clipping a wing.

I was looking for something a little different, although let's face it, it has nearly all been done before. I chose moments when the water was like a mill-pond and captured mirror reflections, or the background gave a direct or subtle impression of the environment, slow shutter speeds to accentuate motion, or simply when the birds came incredibly close.

Okay, so most want bright sunshine and blue skies for their 'birds in flight' shots. But not me... not always. White birds burn out all too easily in direct sunshine and the blue sky shots are so common they are almost bordering on dull. This might not be the answer, but I will always take poorer light if it means getting such an intimate shot of a bird in flight.

For repeat visitors to the Arctic, these birds are usually dull and uninspiring, but I was more than happy to burn through memory cards at a rate of knots. I mean, why not, when they drift so close to the camera you could literally reach out and stroke a wing feather. Who knows when I will get back there?!

Ahead of us, the new destination loomed into view... Hornsund. A former whaling station, but there was nothing there to remind you that there had ever been anything apart from virgin snow and ice for the past hundred millennia.

It was utterly pristine... simply exquisite. The snow-covered mountains ringed the head of the fjord and erupted straight from the sea. A massive plate of sea ice emerged from the base of the colossal glaciers that spanned for miles. This was THE most beautiful winter wonderland.

The close-up shot is obvious, but using a wide-angle, you can give a true sense of the environment. A seal on snow could be in a zoo, but there is no doubting where this was captured.

Awaiting us, at the extremity of the ice, a single bearded seal just about raised an eye brow until the Vavilov crunched into the edge and ploughed through about 100m before coming to a stop. Then the seal actually raised its head. Enticingly, the tracks of polar bears could be seen all around.

Seemingly, the whole ship's compliment and passengers were scanning with all manner of optics, following the lines of footprints, hoping to see the foot that had created them... but nothing. There was the most beautiful, quintessential Arctic scene before us, with dozens of seals laying near their air holes. It cried out "POLAR BEAR!"... then somebody did!

At the foot of a glacier, far too far to photograph, a single polar bear was sniffing out the seals. It was no more than a speck through my lens, but viewing through the ship's scopes gave a much better view - a custard coloured blob. I jest. It was incredible to see though, but even more incredible was how a massive animal such as this could be so dwarfed by its environment. It gave a true appreciation of scale to the glacial wall and the mountains surrounding us... this place is monumental in every sense of the word!

Arctic Expedition: Walrus Haul Out

2009-07-10T19:02:00.004+01:00

Our trip north was prematurely cut short due to the incoming low pressure and impenetrable ice. The ice maps are always 24hrs old so by the time you reach an area, the ice could be completely different, as was the case this time.

So, the crew designed a new plan... go south! Genius! As we passed Prins Karls Forland once again, the Vavilov looped around the island and headed north on the inside. We were heading for a walrus haul out!

Svalbard guidelines are quite strict with the tour operators, so we were given fair warning that we would not be lingering. We were split into small groups of around thirty and ferried to the haul-out site, one group at a time. We were then escorted to within about 50m and given just 15mins! I must admit, I was pretty disappointed with this hefty restriction. I wasn't so worried about the distance, as I had my 600mm and walrus are frickin huge, it was the time aspect.

We landed, had a quick talk about how to behave and that we would be under the watchful eye of Ian Sterling, the eminent polar ecologist who has seen more polar bears and made more visits to the polar regions than I have had hot dinners! Over the next few days I would quickly come to appreciate what a magnificent man Ian was. For now, he was our guide leading an eager group through knee-deep snow.

Ian lead us quietly and slowly to a point and then we filed out in single order. I'd unfortunately been asked to go right, away from the shoreline, so looked pleadingly at Paul, who thankfully ushered the 'photographers' closer to the shore.

It is difficult not to just shoot away when seeing a new species, but I held out for those brief moments when the walrus were actually doing something. As Chris Packham says "When they are still they look like a pile of fly-tipped 70's sofas!"

As I opened the tripod legs and knelt down, the crust of icy snow on the top gave way and I fell through a couple of feet and was now sitting up to my waist. "Am I bovered?!" It was quite funny really. I was now shooting through the legs of people in front of me, picking off moments of interaction in the walrus herd.

A couple of walrus were in the water and began roughing in the shallows. The big lenses angled down to the water and shutters buzzed away. It was too distant for me, so I wondered what they could see. I thought the 600mm would be enough, but as you can see, it was not enough to get right into the action.

This is the shot that I had in my head. Although it is pretty much the typical iconic shot of the walrus, I still wanted it in my portfolio. Some warm side-lit sunshine would have been great!

Until (and with huge appreciation and relief ) the two walrus in the water grew very curious and swam along the shore to investigate. Now I had the opportunity for some close-ups! The largest walrus reared up and eyeballed the land-loving alien bipeds. It was a perfect chance to get that in-your-face walrus shot with bristling whiskers, spying eye, and massive tusks.

I always like to get low-down to eye level (or lower) if I can. Being so close to the water-level here throws the fore/background out of focus and makes the subject 'pop out'. The fact that the walrus was doing something odd with its mouth was an added bonus.

All too soon, our time was up and we were heading back to the awaiting zodiacs. Just as we arrived another zodiac-load of passengers arrived... with a bit of a welcoming committee. I just spotted the movement in time and got down low on the shore to grab a few shots. The walrus had come along the shore to check out the inflatables! I couldn't waste time with setting the tripod, so removed the camera from the head and handheld it on the ground. The low angle really accentuates the size and proportions of the walrus.

Probably one of my favourites from the session, with massive tusks and diffused background. It is a little close to the bottom edge, but not bad for a handheld grab shot as it sat up.

The walrus continued along the shore and were now floating behind the zodiacs. So, as it happened, the guys and gals with point-and-shoots, happily sitting in the boats, had the best opportunity and closest encounters.

I wasn't sure about this at the time, but now I love it. Okay, the tusks are hidden but there is a real ominous/curious feel to that intense stare. Plus, the low angle and bow-wave gives it the feel of impending action.

I managed to capture a few close-ups while our group were putting on their life-vests and packing their gear. In the end, I had to be ushered away as I really didn't want to leave. Looking back, I have a few nice shots, but I do not see anything that is particular edgy or exciting. I am not sure what I was expecting - probably just a little more time and freedom of movement.

Arctic Expedition: Back on Land

2009-07-10T15:19:00.003+01:00

The place name escapes me for now, but a huge seabird colony was our first zodiac landing of the expedition. A massive glacier spanned for miles in one direction, whilst towering cliffs and the tremendous sound of 000s of birds awaited us in the other. The passengers split into two groups - a zodiac cruise for one half and a walk for the other... then we would switch.

We took the cruise first (figuring that the walk afterwards would warm us up) and explored the rocks and cliffs below the bird colony. There was a mix of guillemots, puffins, fulmars, kittiwakes, and even reindeer foraging on the tundra, but the light was poor so I kept the powder dry and waited for better opportunities.

We viewed the glacier from a considerable distance (guidelines state minimum distance is 10x the height of the glacier). It was colossal, even from here. The deep blue hues ran through the ice wall like gigantic veins. It was a breath-taking sight and our first tangible taste of the polar wilderness.

On shore there was a brief sighting of an arctic fox scavenging on the carcass of a reindeer, but it did not linger. We walked along, each person seeming to seek a sense of space in order to take it all in. There wasn't a great deal of talking, apart from the armed guides interpreting the site... and Paul, of course. I really wanted to photograph something, but I guess I was either overwhelmed by being there or just hated the poor light.

Jacq spotted two snow buntings foraging on the tundra, so I got as close as I dared, laid down flat to get the eye-level and diffuse the messy fore/backgrounds. The snow bunting was very obliging and hoped within range before fluttering away.

I purposely overexposed the shot to get as much detail in the rocks and shadows. The sky was just about blowing out. Using Lightroom 2's in-built ND Grad, I pulled back the sky details and increased the tonal range. I wish had brought my full landscape filters kit, but I'd really come for the wildlife!

Eventually, the cloud lifted enough to make the most of a confiding snow bunting (which seemed to hop everywhere apart from on the snow where I wanted it) and then a chance landscape with nicely lit boulders for the foreground, lead-in lines created by the incoming waves, and an awesome background. With time running out (it was nearly lunch time after all) we all piled back into the zodiacs and blasted back to the Vavilov.

Almost instantaneously the Vavilov's engines hummed into life. The zodiacs were craned onboard and we were departing for our next destination. There will be many reading this that have probably been to the polar regions before. This is my first time, so forgive the excitement about... well... ice.

I am always after interesting foreground subjects for landscapes. When at sea, the landscape images are dull, because you have a huge expanse of water and distant lines of hills or snow-capped mountains. But with ice, it all changes. In the next fjord, pancake ice was floating past the ship like a self-disassembling jigsaw. As we reached the head of the fjord, I just could not speak.

Shooting from the top deck, the super-wideangle's concentric perspective

creates its own lead-in lines with the bands of pancake ice.

It was astoundingly beautiful. The cool blue arctic light, creating a subtle contrast in the panterns in the water. The mountains, black and white with snow and rock, mirrored the sea. In front of the bow, the light was peering through heavy cloud, creating an almost ethereal gateway.

A view from toward the stern and out along the fjord. The flow of ice creates a great line into the mountains and ominous sky at the top of the frame. If there is fantastic detail, there is no need to keep to rule-of-thirds!

I literally ran around the decks, aiming my 16-35mm in every direction. The scene through the viewfinder was lacking something, so I added the polariser and... WOW! The mid-tone blue water was transformed to an inky-black and the white ice gleamed.

I shot frame after frame, using the patterns in the ice to create lead-in lines and foreground interest. During processing, I kept the white balance cool to enhance the icy-cold feel to the images and dropped the blue luminance to punch the deep blues even more.

Arctic Expedition: Background & Departure

2009-07-10T13:55:00.005+01:00

I have been thinking about how best to present this trip report on our Arctic Expedition... day-by-day, by subject, just the highlights, the full monty? There is an awful lot to describe and even more images, but I also don't want to bore you all into a stupor!

For that reason, I think I will just stick with the highlights. I am still waiting for the final itinerary from Exodus, so the details will be vague and then back-filled. It may be worth revisiting once I have the location names to fill in the blanks.

The trip was organised by Exodus who chartered the entire vessel from Quark Expeditions. This has one major advantage in that there is only one tour leader - not competing factions. It makes the decision process simpler and quicker as the tour leader can speak for everybody on the ship.

To give a sense of scale, I took this shot of passengers boarding the Vavilov from the zodiacs.

Ranking above the tour leader is the Expedition Leader, in this case an amazing character called David Wood or "Woody". At the top of the decision-making process sits the Russian Captain who is in overall command of the ice-rated science vessel, the Akademik Sergey Vavilov. Together, with Jeremy (the Ice Pilot), they planned and altered the day's itinerary according to weather, ice flow, and wildlife hotspots.

When we booked the trip, we were sent a load of documents, including the itinerary, but I've met the tour leader, Paul Goldstein, enough times to know that this wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. Paul's style of leading is spontaneous, ambitious, motivational, and all about maximising wildlife viewing potential. That is why we went on this particular tour. He might be reading this, so I should be careful not to blow too much smoke up his a-hole, but I have yet to meet another guide that works so hard to get the most out of a trip! The poor sod was knackered by the end of it so "Cheers to you, matey!"

Okay, enough background...

The voyage departed from Longyearbyen, the central town of Spitzbergen (the main Island). It is a definitely a frontier town with little romance, zero atmosphere, and I really couldn't wait to leave it behind. It had the feel of a post-war Siberian mining town, if that makes any sense?! Maybe I was just grumpy from the flight... At a cruising speed of 10 knots, we headed west out of Isfjorden, skirting the western coast of Prins Karls Forland and headed north to meet the ice.

For open ocean, the seas were pretty calm with just enough 'rise and fall' to remind the land-lovers that they were at sea. I took an opportunity to explore the ship and walked around the open decks. The shot above was captured by clamping a camera body to the boat, experimenting with shutter speed, and shooting in time with the rise and fall. Too short a shutter speed and the waves are too defined. Too long, and the mountains on the horizon are blurred.

As Paul put it, "this is a 'proper' ship, not a ponsy cruiseliner!" There is machinery everywhere and the steel floors are extremely unforgiving. But you immediately felt that this vessel could take on just about anything.

When we woke the following morning, the steady rise and fall had become somewhat more pronounced. As we headed further north, we neared a low-pressure system and the winds picked up, snow began to fall, and the waves grew. It was fantastic!

I wasn't sure whether I would be seasick, having never done anything like this, but so far, so good! We went out on deck, slipped around on the fresh snow, was blown across the bow by 50 knot gusts, and decided to get back inside. The bow was soon declared off-limits during this particular spell of weather... the Captain had seen my skating performance from the bridge! Next stop... our first opportunity for some wildlife photography!

Arctic Expedition Taster

2009-07-05T08:58:00.002+01:00

This was one of the most memorable days of my career as a wildlife photographer. In the trip report I will describe in more detail the events that lead to this image, but for now, this is just a little taster of what we have seen and experienced... My sincerest thanks to Exodus, Paul Goldstein, Jonathan & Angie Scott, Chris Packham, and countless other wildlife headcases (you know who you are) for making this such a memorable trip!

Nearly Home...

2009-07-05T08:47:00.003+01:00

Okay, so the blog has been a little quiet for the past month, but there is a very good reason. On the 14th June, we travelled North for a 10 day expedition around Svalbard. When the trip came to an end, we learned that there was room on the following voyage, so decided to stay on - we loved it that much! Plus, it was the first time where neither of us has had any work commitments and we could, for once, make the decision not to return home. So, one trip turned into a month-long voyage around the Spitzbergen archipelago.

Obviously there are no internet cafes and the like that far out and I wasn't about about to spend $1 per 1Kb of data updating the blog. Needless to say, I will be producing a full trip report accompanied by the latest shots of polar bears, walrus, bearded seal, reindeer, arctic fox, and countless birds... oh, and just the odd landscape!

Woody & Garden Feeders

2009-06-06T10:24:00.003+01:00

In addition to the wealth of wildlife opportunities out in the fields, I am also working with the wildlife closer to home. One of the first things I did, when I moved in here, was to put up several bird feeders. I knew they would take time to become established, so the earlier the better.

I set a bird feeder pole in the ground, with four feeders, in the front garden. This has a mixture of nuts, mixed seed, and sunflowers, plus one fat feeder. By the time we had left for India, two weeks later, the feeders were hanging still and unused. By the time we returned, seven weeks after installation, the feeders were nearly empty!

Now, we have a wide variety of birds visiting the feeders throughout the day. Blue tit, great tit, chaffinch, greenfinch, goldfinch, house sparrow, and starlings. On the ground, the finches are assisted in their clean-up operation by collared doves, wood pigeons, dunnocks, robins, blackbirds, thrush, wagtails, and yellowhammers.

Slightly annoying, are the rooks, crows, and jackdaws which have now discovered the feeders too. We are woken at dawn by the nasty 'chorus of corvids'. I really admire these birds for their intelligence, but they are not exactly the greatest of singers! If anybody has any suggestions how I can prevent these gannets from robbing the feeders, I am all ears!

In the back yard, I have a wildlife area which has been left to grow wild. Within this area, I have set-up several feeders with wild props. For example, there is a long lichen-covered branch planted vertically with holes drilled in the side. I fill these holes with peanuts and it is a favourite perch for our newest arrival, the greater-spotted woodpecker (Woody).

In addition, there is a section of lichen-covered willow tree trunk on the ground. I started out with a few holes drilled in to the side so I could establish a feeding regime with Woody. Once Woody was visiting several times a day or more, I chiselled out a wide groove and covered it with a wire mesh. It now holds several days worth of nuts and keeps woody on the prop for longer. As I write, Woody is feeding its chick on top of the this.

Interestingly, the peanuts seem to be the only food that Woody is interested in. I experimented with other food including mealworms - reasoning that woodpeckers search out grubs in trees - but Woody just spat these out and dug around the holes for more nuts.

Next to this is a tripod with a small branch clamped to it. With small passerines it is best to have a small delicate perch to reflect the small nature of the subject. Adjacent to the branch, just out of frame, is a pole feeder with just niger seeds and is the preferred feeding station for 6-8 goldfinches, several greenfinches, and the occasional bullfinch.

When I am photographing the brids on the interchangeable perches, I tape over a couple of the feeding holes and remove their respective plastic perches. In this way, the birds queue and perch on the prop. In the wild area, the finches are very much at home, plucking seed heads, dandelion clocks, and picking off the odd gnat. Whichever way you look from our home, birds are everywhere... Did I mentioned that I have been nicknamed the "Birdman" by locals? How nice...?!

Hares (Alternate Strategy)

2009-06-06T10:13:00.003+01:00

In the previous post, I mentioned the field entrances that funnel the wildlife traffic. During one morning's session, I watched in disbelief as one hare after another came through the gap (probably males following the scent of a female). But there was more than just hares...

Two roe deer came through, plus a tip-toeing muntjac, then a fox with a mouthful of rabbits. So for the next session, I put the experience into good use and camped out in the wheat, rather than hugging the hedgerows. The main disadvantage of this is comfort.

With the wheat relatively short (compared to me), I had to lay flat resting on my elbows for several hours. But the tactic worked and the hares came through as before. Keeping below the level of the wheat proved extremely uncomfortable, but it was worth it.

With the tripod legs fully-splayed, I could shoot at a really low level, diffusing the foreground and background. This is a really useful technique if either are scrappy or distracting. In this case, the field behind was ploughed earth and very young bean crops.

Several hares came through, but usually running at speed. I had very limited peripheral vision, thanks to the high vegetation either side of the gap, so had little warning as to when a hare would appear. These shots are just a couple from the morning to illustrate the effect of low angles and being able to predict a head-on view.

Hare-trigger

2009-06-05T19:57:00.003+01:00

Photographing hares has become almost second nature. After spending two solid weeks with them, dawn 'til dusk, I have been able to keep track on which fields they are favouring and where they will be during the day. All the action centres around one field and most of that is focussed on the entrances/exits which helps to funnel the wildlife traffic.

Having hares on your land (or on your local patch) is soooooooooo much easier than travelling across the country to find them. When I used to travel to Lancashire and Rutland, it would usually take three days just to locate the right fields before there was any real opportunity for photography. That becomes very expensive when you are B&Bing, not to mention the cost of fuel!

I am now working with hares in two fields, one wheat-crop, the other a wildflower hay meadow. The results are very different and I cannot decide which I prefer. There are iconic hare shots with various poses, but the setting can also make or break and image and associations with different environments suit different publications.

The shot below was the product of an idea - one of those 'images in your head moments' where the hare is running head-on down a tunnel. I didn't manage that shot, but something equally as eye-opening. It took an entire morning to capture, which is pretty good going as they are not the most predictable of animals!

I laid in the tractor tracks of the wheat field, from sunrise until 9:ooam 'ish. Several hares appeared in the track, but none ran down towards me. The best chance came as I sat up to slowly look around and saw a hare jumping over the lines of wheat. I laid flat and set the camera, in anticipation.

The hare broke into the track, but on the wrong line! The tracks are separated by a thick wall of wheat, so I could just about see the hare's ears porpoising towards me, so I froze. I heard the sound of the feet skidding on the dry dusty earth as the hare saw me. I held my breath as I heard a rustle, so turned my head slightly to see the hare's face poking through!

The hare span around and ripped back up the track, but not before breaking through to my line and standing on tip toe, just to get a proper look at me. Two clacks of the shutter and the hare was dust! One was sharp and here it is...

In the evening of the following day, I put in a stint at the hay meadow. I was really looking for roe deer, but there were none to be seen. After a couple of hours twiddling my thumbs and crumbling lose soil, I decided to go for a quiet walk.

I slipped over the gate and entered the field. There was nothing about, apart from the many butterflies and bumblebees. As I approached the far hedgerow, I saw a hare dart under the gate and run in my direction.

Instantly, I dropped to my knees (the tripod was already set with legs splayed), and sat perfectly still as the hare hopped through the buttercups. I captured just a handful of frames as the hare continued on its path and disappeared through the think grass.

My favourite is this shot, with the hare obscured by the grass, but with beautiful warm sinlight making the hare glow with a radiance.

Roe Deers & Buttercups

2009-06-04T17:29:00.007+01:00

Much of the farmland that I am wandering around is reserved purely for wheat and bean crops. However, there are several acres of fallow land set aside for grazing. These buttercup-blanketed, wildlife havens are now the backdrops for most of my photography.

Having spent a couple of weeks photographing hare and deer in the agricultural fields, the intense, vibrant yellows of the buttercups make for a refreshing change, producing strikingly colourful images.

It is a truly calming and tranquil experience: sitting at the edge of these wildflower hay meadows; listening to the gentle hum of bees and other winged insects (of which there are countless thousands compared to the entomological desert of the crops); serenaded by the many thrushes, skylarks, finches, wrens; being used as a resting post for fritillary and painted lady butterflies (they seem to like landing on my shoulders).

I often struggle to stay awake during the evening stint as my days are very long - hitting the fields at 4:45am until 9:00am and back again for 7:00pm until 9:30pm. The warm breeze is usually the final straw and I have to give myself a sharp slap to stay awake. I should have an afternoon kip, but settling into the new home keeps me busy.

I guess the only downside to this blissful environment is my hayfever (oh yes, a wildlife photographer with hayfever - how amusing?!). It has exploded with the warm sunny days and I have largely been reduced to a walking bag of snot! But, I persevere, nonetheless, for within these fields is the object of my desire... the roe deer.

"I've been creeping along the hedgerow for about 100yds. From the starting gates, I could see the roe deer in the field adjacent to me now. Every footstep is so carefully placed and I'm stopping frequently to check ahead and around. I have no idea where the deer are now, in the time it has taken to reach here, they could be anywhere!

I can see the gate ahead... Now, this is the tricky part. The sun is low and behind me, meaning that my shadow falls on the gate and into the field, before I can even see what is in there. I hunch over as far as I can, changing my bipedal outline into something more obscure.

I can see the deer, a single roebuck, but I am not yet in position. It is walking along the far hedgerow, the gorgeous ginger colour is literally glowing in the warm evening sunshine. It looks spectacular, surrounded by millions of buttercups.

Every time the deer lowers its head to feed, I take a few steps. Soon, I am at the gate and I continue with the same alternating timing as I set the tripod legs for a lower shooting angle. In my mind I can see the image I want - a portrait of a buck with diffused grass and bright yellow flowers. Can I finally get it this evening?

I am ready... but where is the deer? I had expected it come through the gate, but I cannot see anything. "Bugger!" I sit still and wait. The seconds tick by and still nothing. Seconds turn into minutes and still no sign. I turn my head slowly, one way, then the other. Forty minutes pass and "There it is!" The buck has worked its way along the hedgerow to my right, obscured by the undulations in the land.

The deer stops every few steps to check for danger. The head jerks up sharply and the head switches from side to side, the ears searching like furry radar dishes. The buck seems to have a disagreement with a bush and head buts it several times, then rakes it with its antlers as I hold back a laugh. The argument is settled and the buck moves on.

I could take a shot from here, but it is dark and shadowy. I have no idea where the deer is heading for, so I consider shooting a record shot. Thankfully, my optimism bears out and the roe continues along the hedgerow rather than disappearing through a small gap.

The deer is really close now, but also far to my right. I have to press my forehead against the gate bars to keep an eye on it as it continues onward... and out it comes, into the sunshine! I can't believe it. It is coming my way and through the buttercups. These deer are so beautiful, easily the prettiest of the species. This buck is magnificent, with a deep cinnamon-coloured pelt (although I can still see the greyish winter coat still moulting).

I take a shot, but the deer does not hear it. I shoot a few more and finally the deer stops to register the sound. It looks around and presents me with a great portrait. I am hesitant at this early stage, whether or not to risk spooking the deer, so I hold back.

A few more steps and a few more shots. As the deer stops, I take single shots, so he cannot gain a bearing on the sound. I am not in deep shadow as I would have preferred. The sky is cloudy and, although I am wearing camouflage, the deer could still spot me at such close range.

The deer is a little agitated at the sound and runs for a few steps, then stops. To my surprise, the buck turns and approaches. Stepping gingerly and with ears and eyes all focussed on my direction, he advances still further and keeps coming. With the greatest care I turn the lens, but it is so large, even the smallest movement is magnified. I manage a couple of frames before the roe registers the movement and prongs away.

But again, it stops and approaches. Now he is in my line of sight, so I capture the second head on approach. Through the viewfinder it looks so beautiful, I just hope the images are as good! The buck is now so close I can only fit his head and shoulders in the frame. As the buck nears the gate, the shutter sound spooks the deer once more and of he goes... to repeat the whole process yet again... AND AGAIN!

This is absolutely, in-smegging-credible! I have read of some roes approaching to ascertain a threat, but never repeated approaches and soooooo close! Towards the end, the sun breaks through, and I capture my final close-up series, before the final prong, accompanied by loud alarm barks. I have about one hundred frames in the bag as light fades.

The buck stops one last time, close to the far side of the field and looks back. I capture a couple of frames to illustrate the scene with a gate and farmland in the background. The buck turns away and fades away through the hedge. WOW! That was sensational... remarkable... outstanding... and truly unforgettable!"

Hareborne!

2009-05-28T12:24:00.009+01:00

Any regular readers of this blog and, in fact, anybody that knows me, will be aware that I have been obsessed about 'boxing hare' shots for a long time! Ever since I first clapped eyes on Manfred Danegger's incredible shot, I have wanted to emulate it, or have something similar in my portfolio. So this has been by mission, year after year, every February to April, I have been out in the fields trying to capture something like it... and I am still trying.

At least now, I feel I have the time and location to capture such an iconic image. Within three days, I have already captured great portraits of hares, have seen them chasing and even a little boxing. But, to be at the right time, in the right place, with the right wind direction, and angle of the sun, it is a wonder these moments are ever documented at all!

"It is another beautiful morning in the Oxfordhsire countryside. The grass is heavy with dew, the birds are at full song, and sun is just creeping over the treeline behind me. I am hugging the hedgerow, keeping to the shadow, trying more and more to stalk like a predator. Every footstep brings me closer to a potential shot... or missing it.

I am following my usual path up the field. As usual, the horses to my left are trotting around, trying to assess what the weird upright thing is creeping about... trying to look like a bush. I have taken to my camo for the first time in years. There are plenty of roe deer around here and that is one animal where I have really noticed the difference.

I slowly enter my main 'hare field' and crouch down in the undergrowth. Scanning with the binocs, I spot the signature ears moving, ever so slightly, in the tall wheat-grass. I do not know how much longer I can photograph here as the crops are now so tall, the hares are already completely hidden. The hare starts to move around, so I set the tripod and aim the viewfinder to bring the hare into focus.

Suddenly, the hare jumps in the air and comes trotting straight towards me. As it clears the crops, I shoot one frame, but it is already too close. The hare stops dead in its tracks, looks around with a twitching nose, glares at me with a big eye, and blasts back up the field. Oh well, at least there is one shot in the bag.

After about half an hour (letting the scene calm down), I rise and walk-on to a spot half way up the field on the southern hedgerow. Even if I sit here for hours, the direction of the sun will be ok as it is always coming over my shoulder. It does not take very long for another hare to come trotting up the field margin. I have enough time to lower the tripod legs to get a really low angle. The light is beautiful and as the hare appears over the rise, it has an almost golden glow.

The low angle helps to diffuse both foreground and background and the hare pings out from the scene. It is still running so I take a shot to stop the hare. It works perfectly. The hare sits still, looking one way, then the other. I capture single frames, fearing that a burst of shutter would prematurely spook it. The hare takes a few tentative steps to nibble on the nearby wheatgrass, then reconsiders its position and runs off into the middle of the field.

Time ticks away and, before I know it, two hours have past without a sign of a hare or deer. I start to get really fidgety as the thistles in my butt starts to really annoy me. A subtle movement in the crops catches my eye. Its a hare! It has probably been there the whole time, basking in the warmth of the morning sun. Now it is rising up and looks like it is about to move. It sits right back on its haunches and quick-boxes the air.

Further away, two hares are chasing each other down the field: Running in circles; zigzagging across the tracks; hopping over the lines of wheat. With a sudden burst of speed, they tear up the field towards me. The lone hare is caught up in the chase and now there are three. They spin on the spot and tumble over each other... the boxing starts!

The lead hare turns on its pursuer and the fur flies! The chase continues and now they are really close. I track them in the viewfinder and watch the battle in crisp detail. I shoot bursts of three or four frames as the combatants collide, the bright sun providing ample shutter speed to freeze the action (albeit with a touch too much contrast).

I know there is a great shot here, but I resist the temptation to check the back of the camera. In seconds it is all over and the hares are speeding down the field, exiting through a gap in the hedgerows. Phew! That was incredible stuff. I really had not expected to have such a close view of this behaviour, so early on in the project and so late in the year.

I try to calm myself down and remain seated. I really want to kneel up and check around, but my experience prevents me from being so impatient. Motion to my left catches my attention once more. A lone hare is running flat-out up the field margin. Within seconds it is almost on top of me. I try to focus, but the camera is struggling with the head-on bouncy target. The focus fails and I know I have missed a cracker as the hare passes out of the viewfinder.

I ease my face away from the camera. Something tells me the hare is still around. Sure enough, the hare is standing absolutely rigid, less than four metres away, just staring at me. A few seconds seems to last for several minutes as two disparate beings share a moment in time. Would I leave the same indelible impression on the hare, as the hare has on me? (Nope!) The hare takes one step, pauses, then trots away."

Hare Today: Leveret

2009-05-27T17:46:00.004+01:00

I very rarely see leverets, as they're usually tucked out the way somewhere quiet, visited just once a day by the mother - less disturbance means less attention from would-be predators. But, there comes a day when all leverets have to leave the safety of mum's favourite hideaways and be free in the world.

So it was with this character. He's a little older, but still small, fluffy and very cute. I spotted his ears just over the tops of the wheatgrass, so crept closer very slowly and extremely quietly. Jacq was with me, but I had asked her to do exactly as I did.

When we were within earshot of the hare, I could see him sinking lower and keeping rigidly still. Now, the waiting game! With Jacq beside me, we sat and waited the customary half hour, plus a little extra, but eventually the young hare relaxed.

The nose relaxes first with a little twitch and sniff of the air to check for danger. Then, a blink of the eyes and a slight turn of the head. Finally, the ears relax and begin to rise. After some time, the hare sat-up once again and began munching on the crops.

In the time it had taken for the hare to unwind, I had carefully mounted the camera on the tripod, pre-focussed, and taken a test shot. Now, with the hare in the clear, I started to shoot a few frames. The leveret was not overly concerned and began trotting about, looking for new shoots amongst the crops.

Only when he ran straight towards us and discovered our forms sitting proud of the grass, did the hare stop and stare... then sprint away.

At roughly the same time as the leveret ran away, another hare (this time an adult) came running down, straight passed us and out of the field. I captured a few frames of the run, keeping this outstretched shot.

On the first day of this new hare project, I took the 600mm f/4.0 IS L and 1Ds mkII, all mounted on a Gitzo tripod and Really Right Stuff BH-55 ball head. Although ball head can hope with the immense weight, panning was a bit of an issue with the lens always trying to topple over. After that, I swapped the heads for my Jobu Black Widow gimbal head. These heads make panning with big lenses a dream and I am able to position the lens with just a single finger.

Starting Afresh: The First Day (if you can believe it!)

2009-05-23T21:56:00.005+01:00

I have waited for over two months to take my first serious 'wildlife walk' in my new patch. I have been so ridiculously busy with 1:1 workshops, travel, moving home, settling in, etc., that I really haven't had a chance. Some wildlife photographer! Well, the day after getting back from the Isle of Mull, I took a morning stroll...

"Yesterday, our new neighbours advised us that, while we were away, a host of rowdy rooks and jackdaws had taken up residence and were holding noisy parties very early in the morning. Sure enough, at 5:00am the ruckus begins with squawking and wing beating, accompanied by roof-tile percussion.

I open the window sharply and the birds flee, although I am quite sure that they have not gone very far. It is a beautiful dawn and sun is just peering over the treeline behind our house. I gather my gear, bag my 600mm in the LowePro LensTrekker, grab the fleece and gloves, and take my first walk...

I have to walk through our local farm to reach the fields, disturbing more rooks and wood pigeons, not to mention a few startled sheep. Passing the gate, I look out into the fields with binoculars and scan as far as possible. All looks quiet.

I walk very slowly, carefully placing each footstep (you never know when something will pop out), keeping my outline hidden by the towering hedgerow. The horses in the adjacent field are neighing, galloping and cantering, and chasing each other's tails.

As I reach the top corner of the wheat-field, I stop to register the movement of something ahead, rustling the wheat-grass... a hare! It hops out and looks around. The hare has not seen me in the deep shadow, blinded by the rising sun.

I slowly crouch down and unzip the bag. Every notch of the zip feels like a gunshot, but the hare does not seem to register it. I withdraw the lens and mount it on the tripod with as much care as I can muster, foregoing a pinched finger to silence the metal contact. To my absolute astonishment, the hare approaches and rounds the corner. Its in the clear!

I take a tentative first shot and the hare stops dead... but it does not flee. It takes a few more steps closer, and I shoot a few more frames. So it continues until the hare is full frame. I cannot believe my luck!

A huge grin creeps across my face as the hare trots along, crossing my path, and disappears into the hedgerow to my right. Soooooo cool!

Another rustle, this time to my left, so I slowly turn my head. A muntjac is standing only three metres away, stamping its foot and snorting. There is no chance of a shot here and before I have even thought about turning the lens, the muntjac is off, bounding over the wheat and vanishing from view.

I walk on (this is supposed to be just a reccy after all) and enter the 2nd field through a wide opening. Ahead of me, there is a wide track and I spot a couple of hares running away in the far corner. I walk on, but decide to sit down and wait a third of the way in. Long ago, I learned that if you sit still and quiet for around thirty minutes or more, the wildlife tends to forget you are there and relaxes.

To my relief, the wait pays off. The hares start rising from the wheat grass - one, two, four, six... "What the!?" The field is alive with hares! After an hour's wait, the hares are running about as if it were Mad March. Actually, the hares chase each other and box all year, but historically the crops are usually too long by May, so you don't see them.

(I usually shoot my images from February to the end of April, but now they are on the doorstep, I will photograph them throughout the year.)

Something red catches my attention. I turn slowly to see a fox stalking up the field margin. It hasn't seen me and I am down wind. The fox approaches the thick vegetation at the edge of the field and pauses. With a great acrobatic leap, the fox pounces and completely disappears in the tall grass and brambles. A few seconds later, the fox emerges with a kicking rabbit. "What a morning?!" Too far for a shot, but amazing to see.

The fox repeats the process several times, emerging with rabbits of all sizes and a vole. It buries all but one, carrying off the largest rabbit to the privacy of large hawthorn and enjoys a hearty breakfast. I seize the opportunity to change locations. I creep as quietly as possible, across the field to where I have seen the fox. I sit about thirty metres away, downwind.

The fox does not emerge... so I wait. The hares are still running about but they are far away and my camera lays idle. Another rustle from behind... the fox? The rustle stops and there is silence (apart from the millions of songbirds, swallows, skylarks, etc.), so I turn my head slowly.

A massive roe deer buck is staring at me just a few metres away! It is the largest, most beautiful deer I have seen. I just have time to register its amazing cinnamon colour before it prongs away across the field. I am left staring at empty space with my mouth literally agape..."

Can it possibly get any better?

Mull: Photographer 3-6 Otters

2009-05-17T14:53:00.004+01:00

"The golden plovers are being very well behaved. I've reversed the car and repositioned for a better angle. The male is standing perfectly still and glancing back at the giant eye that is hanging out of the weird silver box (me).

Eventually the plovers tire of being stared at and wander away to the shingle beach. I stow the (now extremely heavy and tiresome) 600mm beast on the back seat and prepare to pull away in search of something else to shoot. After literally a second of motion, Jacq feverishly taps the dashboard, "there's an otter, right there, I don't believe it!"

This loch shore alone runs for over fourteen kilometres, fringed by a margin of brown seaweed, so it still amazes me that we spot these, the most marvellous of creatures, at all! (1 metre of brown in 14,000!) This instantaneous reflection and self-admiration of our own sweet luck takes just a moment, as I now look down and focus on an otter running about the shore, semi-camouflaged by the seaweed.

The otter stops and stares, but I have already cut the engine, so it is struggling to find the threat and continues about its business. We watch as the otter rubs itself dry on the slimy bladder-wrack. Every few seconds, the otter stops to stare in different directions, checking for approaching danger.

We wait patiently as the otter finishes preening and re-enters the water. "Damn it!" A truck approaches behind us and we are parked, rather stupidly, in the middle of the road. I drive off to a passing point, let the truck pass, turn around and park again. We resume our search for the otter...

There it is! Like a jack-in-a-box, Jacq springs out of the car and runs off to keep track of the otter. We normally lose sight of the otters on this shore as they are particularly wary - usually disappearing the moment a car stops or even at the sound of a slowing engine. We have been surprisingly fortunate here, but many of these moments are serendipitous, to say the least.

I wait for the otter to dive, then I too spring from the car - or as spring-like as you can be with waterproofs, trekking boots, giant lens, and beanbag. I catch-up to Jacq as quickly and as quietly as possible, keeping my human outline hidden under the horizon. The wind is raw, my eyes begin to stream, and the tears chase up the side of my head.

Through watery vision, I lose the otter, but a frozen-looking Jacq has a lock on its whereabouts through the binoculars. "It came ashore and is curled up behind that rock..." "WHICH rock?!" It suddenly dawned how difficult this would be without clear direction, without knowing in my own mind where the otter is resting. Jacq tries to explain, but there are no distinguishing features in the universally-brown landscape in front of us.

I head off with only a general direction to aim for and an ambiguous target around seventy-five metres away. I cover the first twenty metres in just a few seconds, sprinting across clear short grass. The next thirty metres consists of rocks, boulders and shingle. I jump and hop across the larger rocks, tip-toe and skip across the small noisy stuff.

My new Meitel boots are fantastic. I wondered how they would cope, but the air-cushioned Vibram soles grip the rock-surface surprisingly well. The first days are always precarious, but I soon find my rock-running legs. By the last day, I am springing over the large rocks like a sure-footed mountain goat, sticking to the sides of the odd boulder like Spidy. The noisy shingle is more tricky. Even the lightest foot-fall results in a horrible crunching noise, but the partial gale subdues the noise.

In just a couple of minutes, I reach the slimy seaweed. The salty funk hits my nostrils as I dive down low for cover. I think I am on course, but I cannot tell how far away the otter is. The scale is greatly distorted when you scan from the road. Distances are further, rocks are larger, the margin of seaweed far wider. Hidden features come into view, invisible from the road, such as lager rocks, pools, and natural furrows.

I'm on all-fours, crawling towards my goal. I heave the beanbag with one arm, the 600mm and 1DSmkII with the other. I pull myself along and use the lubricating seaweed to ease forward. It is almost silent, so the otter will not hear me coming. I am keeping low, my chin just inches from the reeking seaweed.

I look back to see Jacq making an 'advance' movement. I am on course! My heart is thumping as I know I am close. Adrenaline sharpens all my senses and my mouth goes dry. But my eyes are still straining to see in the icy blast (so unseasonable for May). The fur of the otter blends perfectly with the dull brown of the weed. Just a few metres ahead, an otter is resting, but I cannot see it.

It takes time to cover this ground. Over each rise of weed, another rise looms up, another furrow reveals itself. I inch forward, checking each rock, each pool, each and every... movement... what the!? NO!

Its gone... I was less than a metre away! TOO close, I nearly placed my hand on its tail! A tirade of abuse (at my own ineptitude) flies through my brain. I simply could not see it. My eyes registered the motion, in the time it took to for me to focus, the otter glanced around, and sprang into the water.

I am laying flat, barely breathing, not daring to move a muscle. I wait for any sign, but both my hammering heart and shocked brain are saying "This otter is not coming back - I was right on top of it!" In my peripheral vision, I detect more movement... it is the otter. She has risen through the weed, de-cloaking, sniffing the air, trying to detect what the hell just startled her from her slumber.

I see Jacq walking away up the road, trying desperately to find the otter again, but the otter sees her movement and follows. The otter is almost completely invisible, the ripples are imperceptible, the movement fluid and indiscernible from the wind-blown ripples. There is now way Jacq will see her.

The otter sinks again and I lose it. As I raise my head to look around, I hear the a great intake of breath, the otter smelling the air. It is only a metre away and now downwind. With a resounding 'plop!' it is Game Over."

This was my last foray of the trip and obviously I had wanted it to be a success. But it was not to be. I don't think I can be accused of being remiss with my approach. With teaching and experience, I have learned the field craft required to gain access to the otter's domain and stay there without being seen, most of the time.

I said at the beginning of this trip that I was after fine light and clear views. The weather has definitely played its part with unseasonal storms, but I feel the otters have been fairly quiet this trip. I have stalked six times and successfully photographed on three occasions. And when I say 'successfully', I mean that I have been there for some time at the otter's eye-level, not just shooting a frame or two from a distance.

I am happy to admit that otters are probably the most difficult animal I have photographed to date. I am absolutely sure that most people should not even consider trying to photograph them in the wild. I'm not being pessimistic of other's abilities, nor a protectionist... just a realist.

They are skilful and wary hunters in their own right. They are intelligent and can often employ anti-tracking measures, such as doubling-back unseen. They do not adhere to rules, in stark contrast to most books which say "They only feed at low tide, at this time, in these places, bla bla bla!" Rubbish!

They are not there for our amusement, nor their images as trophies to show off. They are sublime creatures with real character and an energetic lust for play. Watch them through binocs and scopes, learn the basic rules of stalking so you do not disturb them and prolong your viewing, but know that they are wild creatures and must always be treated with the greatest respect.

Many people ask how I get these images, maybe this entry goes someway to describe it. If you feel the need to emulate this, please ask yourself one question before you attempt it, before you just stumble down the shore 'hoping for the best'... "Just because you could, does it mean you should?"

Mull's Mixed Bag

2009-05-15T16:36:00.004+01:00

Otter shaking his head through seaweed

I have been coming to Mull for several years now. Usually, I focus all my efforts tracking and photographing otters from dawn-to-dusk, every day. But the Isle of Mull is an amazing place, I simply would not be doing the place any justice by excluding all other creatures. The images here and below represent a snap shot of the past week.

Sister otters sharing the same rock on the territorial border

Typical view of the otter on loch shore

On land and in the surrounding sea, there is a great wealth of wildlife that can be enjoyed by all who come - just as long as you are patient, methodical, and don't drive around like a maniac! A cool head, plenty of time, and eye for spotting can always produce results, although it may not always be what you had expected.

Portrait of a juvenile red deer stag

Oystercatcher on rock at dawn

Common sandpiper on shore rocks

Black-throated Diver on Loch Scridain

Male eider duck on an islet in rising tide

Barn owl flying through woodland (grab shot)

Common seal basking on rocks

During this trip, I have sought to capture images of the supporting cast to Mull's wildlife superstars - the superb otters and magnificent eagles. Among others, there are the red and fallow deer, hares and rabbits (including the pure black and ginger variety), voles, hedgehogs, common seals, mink, dolphins, owls (barn and short-eared), harriers (hen and marsh), friendly finches, eiders, divers, golden plovers, goldeneyes, and gannets... phew!

Spring lamb playing with 'Passing Place' sign

Black-face sheep in Glenmore Pass and The Three Sisters (lakes)

Lamb playing with mother under an oak tree

In addition to the wildlife, the Isle of Mull is like a gigantic working farm. Along the roads and around every bend, sheep and cattle dawdle and munch there way across the glens.

In the past, I have usually ignored these animals, just because I am often so focussed on the wild creatures. But again, on this trip, I have taken the time to photograph the lambs playing and capturing contextual 'free range' images of the livestock in the landscape.

Mull: The Sun Cometh!

2009-05-11T20:49:00.005+01:00

Two days ago, the weather broke. The constant rain and grey was literally blown away by the strong winds, leaving a day of sunshine and showers. The day after that, we have enjoyed one of Mull's most rare spectacles... the blue sky!

This place is phenomenal! One week of rubbish weather is instantly forgotten as soon as you see those mesmeric vistas, bathed in sunlight, topped with puffy whites and blue sky. Jaw-dropping, breath-taking, arresting... the superlatives do not come close to adequately describing Mull on a good day.

With the fine lull, the wind has dropped and the lochs have been transformed into quick-silver mirrors and shimmering reflectors. You could shoot landscapes on every bend and spend the rest of your life chasing the changing skies and atmospheric light. Do not take my meagre attempts at landscape photography as anything to go by... come out here and have a go yourself!

The high Glenmore Pass has been transformed into a view more reminiscent of the Pyrenees, with cloudless rich blue skies. I just had to take this shot as it is the first time I have ever seen it so clear!

It is easy to get carried away with tracking otters. It is an all-consuming occupation with vigils running from dawn-to-dusk. This time, I have made the effort to include more of the other characters on Mull.

Even subjects as mundane as the humble sheep can make for great images when placed in the right context. On my next entry, I'll post a few shots of the rest of cast - birds, lambs, deer, etc.

Mull... to those who wait

2009-05-08T22:44:00.005+01:00

All week I have been watching otters forage along the shore. The weather has been atrocious. Just how abominable became abundantly clear when I watched a buzzard take-off from the corpse of a tiny lamb. The yews have been lambing all week, during torrential rain and gale-force winds, with many succumbing to the cold and damp.

The unlucky ones provide a seasonal feast for the buzzards, ravens, crows, and of course, the eagles. The usual 'eagle sighting' is a tiny silhouette, high in the clouds. Around the loch, with the abundance of carrion, the eagles have been cruising just 100ft from the ground! These gigantic birds are regularly mobbed by the crows. The size comparison is comical with the crows flitting around the massive eagles like insignificant sparrows. These have definitely been my best eagle sightings so far.

During low-tide, I spotted a male otter fishing just off a floating mass of seaweed. I parked the car and we followed on foot. Jacq stayed on the road, providing a second set of eyes just in case I lost sight in the choppy water. In a couple of minutes, I was slipping amongst the seaweed and rocks just like old times. This was my first 'proper' stalk of the trip - that just goes to show how lousy the weather has been, or how patient I have been!

Two hours later, I was still following this marvellous creature, but suffering from a lack of fitness, winded by the effort of carrying a 600mm lens. It is a monstrous piece of glass to carry around, but I just love the extra reach and the diffusion.

This otter was on a mission and rarely came to land. His greater size allowed him to consume almost everything out in the water. After stalking for over 1km, the energetic otter finally came to sure with a crab.

I was in a great position, but just needed to reposition slightly to get a clear view. The wind was so strong that my 'human smell' and any noises were whisked away, numbing/negating the otters alert senses.

After the crab was consumed, the otter went back to the water to hunt. I shuffled a few metres forward to anticipate his landing point and nailed it again (just deserts for the mammoth stalk). This time, the otter came ashore with a small fish which was quickly dealt with.

After this small meal, the otter foraged on land, turning over rocks and diving through piles of seaweed, before entering the shallows again. I just watched as the otter scampered along the shore, diving into mounds of seaweed and splashing through the shallows. This was a great encounter and worth every rock-bruised knee, barnacle-cut elbow, and salt-water splashed eyeball!

After the success of the day's stalk, we had a mini-celebration at the Craignure Inn. They do amazing mussels (Inverlusa) and chips! After wolfing down the meal, the skies brightened once more, so we decided to head out across Glenmore Pass for a drive.

Just passed Lochdon, we found several stags in velvet grazing along the river. They are still wary and were soon on the run after I stopped the car to take a few shots. The light was rubbish, but it is always great to watch these truly wild deer after the tame stags of Richmond Park.

Further along the road we kept our eyes peeled for the short-eared owls. We had seen them soaring over the moorland during a previous drive (and I had already photographed them on my last trip). The Isle of Mull has had an explosion in voles, so the owls are doing very well, turning up in areas usually devoid of these masterful predators.

It wasn't long before I spotted the SEO perched on a lichen-covered fence post, buffeted by the high winds. I had to turn the car so the bird was on my side, but the SEO's tolerance for cars played out and I managed to shoot away in the fading light. Eventually it took flight to hunt, but I was chuffed with the opportunity. I'll check back again in better light, just to see if it has a favourite post.

Mull: Brilliant & Bedragled

2009-05-06T18:07:00.007+01:00

I wake up to astonishing beauty and clear dawn skies. I am out at the lochside before sunrise to make the most of any window in the weather. The nearby loch is like a mill pond and reflecting a clear mirror image of opposing mountain.

I usually drive along the loch searching for otters, deer, and birds, but this morning's first opportunity arrives even before I am in the car. Three red deer hinds are feeding in the fields outside the cottage. I stalk along a wall, keeping my silhouette covered and approach downwind. The sun has yet to rise, so the colours are muted, but the light has the first hints of pink. There are no stags around, so I do not linger there long.

Along the loch, the sheep are lambing and bundles of fluffy white scamper across the road like Kamakazi clouds. Their mother's bleat but the warnings go unheeded. After about a mile a spot the bow wave of an otter heading to land with a fish in its mouth.

I wait and watch the activity. I've missed this opportunity, but hopefully there will be more if I stay patient. After 30 mins, I can't see the otter and the gulls are gathering around the point where I last saw him. He's gone.

I drive up another couple of hundred yards and park. Ahead of me, I see another otter heading my way - a female, diving and fishing. I leave the car as quietly as I can and grab the 600mm from the back seat. As I stand and watch, something catches my eye to my left. The first otter has just reappeared and is now 'porpoising' towards the other. This is either going to be brilliant or very frustrating!

There is a 50/50 choice as to which way they will head once they meet... and I lose. The otters greet and frolic in the water with lots of high-pitched calls. They tumble in the water for a few seconds and then head off the other way. I am guessing it is the female and cub that I photographed in the same spot in 2008.

I have to run to keep up, but I already know this is a done deal. They are steaming towards their favourite haunt and I am out of breath. The tide is still high so instead of heading for land, they aim for the only other object standing clear of water and it is too far for a good shot. I wait for an hour, regularly checking on them, but they are sleeping.

As I wait, a little female wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) hops within range of the 600m. I lay flat on the ground, position the camera on the beanbag, and shoot a few frames as its beats a worm on the tarmac. The low angle diffuses both foreground and background, letting the bird ping out of the image. At such close range, I shoot on f/8 so there is enough depth-of-field to make the bird really crisp.

The wheatear hops closer and closer and is eventually too close to focus - incredible! It always amazes me the close encounters you can have just by being still for long enough. Unfortunately, nature calls and I REALLY have to leave.

The rain arrives in a deluge that lasts from 9:00am through to... well now. After a quick drive around we eventually give-in to the elements and head for the cottage. Along the track, a dozen or more swallows are perched on the fence. It is blowing a gale and the rain is torrential, falling in dense sheets that almost dislodge the tiny birds from their precarious perch. The poor little birds are temporarily grounded, although they make optimistic forays for the odd damp insect.

They are so approachable that I have trouble focussing on them - they are just too close! After reversing and repositioning the car, I shoot a series of very damp swallows, switching between the 600mm and the 300mm f/2.8 with a 1.4x converter (420mm). It is very dull, but on the c.100th/sec shutter speed is just about enough. Ideally, I would have preferred more depth-of-field, but then again, it would be nice if it was bright and sunny - but then, of course, the swallows would be on the wing!

Back on the Isle of Mull

2009-05-05T17:00:00.003+01:00

It is fantastic to be back here, my second UK home. Mull is a very special place and very dear to me indeed. It's rugged beauty is tempered by the incredible wildlife and spring flora. The first couple of days we walked the lochs and just admired the stunning scenery in brilliant sunshine.

The past two days have been practically washed-out, but that is just the way it goes here. You cannot achieve this level of lush vegetation, waterfalls, cutting lochs and valleys without the regular torrential downpours!

I've done my time photographing otters in the pouring rain (and seeing the images being understandably ignored by agents and buyers) so am picking my times with more care. I really want punchy images with bags of colour and great light. If it means I come away with nothing, then so be it.

The deer are around in good numbers and the stags are in velvet. Birdlife is also plentiful this time of year: with eider ducks, goldeneyes, goosanders on the lochs; eagles, buzzards, and swallows soaring above; sandpipers, dippers, and wagtails on the burns and rivers.

The flora is almost a season behind with the bluebells just starting to bloom, cowslips and primrose are in their prime, as is the brilliantly-coloured rhododendrons. I'm really looking forward to the bluebells. I thought I had missed them for this year, but there are swathes in the woodlands and along the roadsides. With the carpets of moss and lichens and jaw-dropping backdrops, I am hoping to capture a few spring floral scenes with a difference... just waiting on the weather!

Starting afresh!

2009-04-27T23:40:00.003+01:00

A few weeks ago, we relocated to South Oxfordshire. We just had time to move our belongings in, prior to the five-week trip to India. We hadn't even spent a single night in our new home before jetting off, but last week we returned and have finally moved in!

We have swapped the 'burbs for the open countryside of the Vale of White Horse. My office view has been magically transformed from a dreary row of houses, to vast open fields and the hills of the Ridgeway.

From the house I can now see swallows, red kites, and buzzards soaring high above and a barn owl quartering the fields in front. In the day, horses canter and play in the front paddocks while wood pigeons, rabbits and thrushes dodge the hooves.

We now wake up to an outstanding dawn chorus rather than the elephantine footsteps of the bumbling neighbours upstairs! The skies are immense, with no buildings to see for miles, the sunrises are spectacular and the sunsets are breath-taking.

After establishing a number of bird feeders, we have regular visits from greenfinch, goldfinch, chaffinch, robin, great tit, blue tit, dunnock, wren, blackbird, song thrush, house sparrow (sadly missing from London), jackdaw, starling, and greater spotted woodpecker. Beneath the feeders, a field vole or two gather the spills.

The postage stamp-sized, crazy-paved, suburban garden has been exchanged for a 100ft+ of hedged lawns and mature, lichen-covered trees. The front lawn will be cut as will half of the lawn in the rear, but the other half will be left to go wild.

Apparently our daisy and dandelion covered gardens are likely to be visited by a number of quadrupeds, including muntjac, roe deer, foxes, and even badgers. "Camera traps on the ready!"

Out and about, the scene gets even better. Our local stream has a high population of water voles and is literally buzzing with dragonflies and damselflies in summer. Local reccy drives have revealed densely populated pockets of wildlife with over 20 hares counted in one area alone and a good number of seemingly approachable roe deer.

My first drive with a camera produced these results that may have taken at least 3-4 days in Lancashire and other 'hare hotspots.'

It is early days folks, but this move seems an inspired one. I'm feeling truly energised and incredibly positive. The wildlife potential is massive, even within a five minute drive. If that wasn't enough, the local land-owner has given me free reign over 250 acres of fallow farmland - we have already driven out to see several hares and roe deer on the land!

Now I just have the small matter of a two week trip to the Isle of Mull and another couple of weeks in the Norwegian Arctic, before I can really get stuck in!