A Lucky Encounter with a Heron

There is a lot of technical skill involved in successful photography, even with today's automated cameras, but sometimes you also need luck, and a lot of that luck involves being in the right place at the right time.

This is partly what Tuesday Travels is all about: making sure that I get out there at least once a week, because if you are not out there you will definitely not be in the right place. But there are exceptions to every rule and this week's episode involved a lot of luck, but no actual travel (and it was Monday not Tuesday!).

Each weekday morning I rise early and, before breakfasting, cycle through the park which my garden backs onto. The purpose of this is two-fold: to keep fit, and to pick up my paper from the local shop so that I can read it over breakfast. It takes about twenty five minutes overall, with the way back being mainly up hill, enabling a decent cardio-vascular workout. On this particular morning, I decided to do an extra bit of cycling and do a lap or two of the lake in the middle of the park.

Half way round the lake I spotted a heron standing in the reeds at the edge of the lake. I stopped to have a closer look and managed to get quite close to it without it flying off. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera with me. Can I get home, get my camera, and get back here again and still find the heron here, I thought? Well it was worth a try, so 15 mins later I was back again, suitably kitted out with my telephoto lens, and also very short of breath.

The heron had not in fact moved, but this time as I approached it flew off to the other side of the lake. Although I didn't think it at the time, this was in fact another stroke of luck, because in it's original position I would have had the sun on the wrong side of the bird, making it difficult to get a nicely lit profile with good detail.

It's new position was much better, with the bright morning sunshine lighting up it's feathers very well. But could I get close to it without spooking it?

Slowly I managed to inch closer and closer, taking record shots all the time as an insurance against it flying off before I could fill the frame with it. Eventually all previous shots were redundant as I got within twenty feet of it and was able to take a great many shots from several different positions.

The heron seemed completely oblivious to me and so, knowing that I already had several decent shots, I decided to get in a bit closer. By this time the heron was totally intent on obtaining it's breakfast, staring intently into the shallows of the lake, ready to pounce in an instant.

Getting in closer I now had a chance to get a really close head shot:

Flushed with success, and getting greedy, I now wanted to get a shot of the heron in flight. I made a few clicking noises and the heron continued to ignore me. But eventually I made a loud enough noise to upset it enough for it to fly off. Unfortunately, my luck, or my skill, now ran out: I did get three shots of it in flight but none were any good.

But I was well pleased with the morning's work and enjoyed my breakfast even more than usual, reflecting on the fact that I had had had a superb photographic episode only a few hundred yards from my home.