The Ethics of Photography

[Tannin]

Actually, eagles are amongst the easiest of birds to photograph, simply because they are so big. They have predictable habits and you don't have to get very close. Presumably elephants are easier than shrews, too. I'm not saying eagles are easy, just that they are easier than many of the smaller species.

As a matter of interest, it is quite extraordinary how many well-meaning bystanders insist on telling you at length and in detail of some place where an eagle hangs out, apparently convinced that a photograph of an eagle must be the ultimate unreachable Holy Grail of bird photography. It isn't. (Possibly you get people helpfully explaining where you can find Amanita muscaria instead, imagining that you just can't wait to see such a rare and special thing.) One generally picks up photographs of eagles as accidental byproducts while looking for something else. (However, this is not to neglect the outstanding specialised raptor work of people like David Hollands, which is the result of extraordinary patience and effort and anything but accidental.) These friendly time-wasters seem to imagine that people like me want to drive all the way across a continent in order to look at a common species more easily found in one's own back yard. But they are nice people and they mean well, so you just stand there nodding and making polite noises at random until they stop.

I'm reminded of a day in South-west Western Australia years ago. I was walking along a track which follows the shore of a large artificial lake, on my way back from a little spot a short distance upstream where interesting small birds liked to drink and bathe. (Small birds dislike large bodies of water; they don't feel safe drinking from anything large enough to contain a snake. And they like nearby cover because in open areas they are vulnerable to raptors.) I'd been after a number of Western Australian specials, small things you don't see every day. As I walked back, carrying my tripod and lenses, the lake was on my right: a big, uninteresting expanse of open water, largely deserted except for a few common ducks and two or three swans, all a very long way away and in harsh, unpleasant light. Along came a pair of cyclists, father and son. As they went past me, Dad sung out "Did you get the Black Swan?!", speaking as if a long-distance shot in harsh, flat light of possibly the most easily photographed bird in Australia would be something very special for me. What can you say? "Yes" would be a lie. "No" would simply encourage him to stop and point it out to me. "Well, no, but I'm actually interested in something else more interesting, such as Red-eared Firetails and White-breasted Robins" was a bit too complicated under the circumstances, but he deserved a friendly answer and I was stuck for words for a moment. (Yes, me.) By the time I'd thought of something to say, the two of them were passing out of earshot. As they disappeared around a corner I heard dad remark to son "Hmmph. Doesn't speak English."

I think we kid ourselves that we photograph truly wild things when we probably don't.

You need to get out somewhere with a good bird phototographer. And not to the sort of place one usually takes beginners to. On this, you are simply wrong.

There are essentially two ways to get close to birds. One is to hide yourself so well that the bird does not know that you are there. This is a technique one uses, but generally speaking not all that often.

The other (more common) method is to accept that the birds always know that you are there, so you have to persuade them that you are unimportant and can be ignored. This is called fieldcraft. It's all about being inconspicuous, unobtrusive, non-threatening, boring, safe. It varies with the species, the terrain, the vegetation, the light, even the time of day. If you want to take good bird pictures, you must become good at it. Hint: it's a bit harder than sneaking up on a mushroom.

[Steve Axford]

I was probably a little harsh in my judgement as there are many cases where the birds are actually wild. I did say that "many, if not most" bird photos are not of wild birds and I still think that is likely to be true. But, as you point out, there is a sizeable minority of people who pride themselves of finding wild and elusive birds to photograph. I even do it myself at times, though fungi usually gets priority. One thing that muddies the water with bird photography some people's tendency to hide how they got the picture. I remember a case where someone used a fish tank with fish in it, set up in a stream to attract kingfishers which were then photographed, apparently in the wild. Others have, apparently, really done this in the wild. I think this gets back to the ethics question. It is not whether you do these clever things like set up fish tanks, but whether you admit to it. It degrades the efforts of the "ethical" bird photographer, like yourself. Nothing we can do about this unfortunately. We live in a world where lying is sanctioned at the highest levels.
Fungi photography is easy in the respect that they don't move. The challenge is, as with bird photography, getting a clear shot, of a good specimen, in good light.

[markdphotography]

Bird photography is not easy and no more is fungi as both of them can creep up an you and you will go straight past either of them without you even knowing.

From my experience they both have their own idiosyncracies and passionate photographers from either fungi or bird photography will protect the Art & Craft of their style.

Speaking of Art & Craft of photography, that reminds me of an article I read recently that I will post soon for discussion now that we have the ethics of photography sorted