A Hard Day's Work

In another life, I would be a wildlife photographer. Obviously because that is how it works: you get to choose what you'll be in another life. I am not saying that I would be a good one, but that I would want to be one. I'll explain.

I have always liked taking photos of animals. My first photo albums were filled with photos of squirrels and sheep and random dogs I met on my travels. For the most part, that has not changed. Except that I no longer take photos of random dogs... very often. I have amused (by which, I of course mean annoyed) many a travel companion by refusing to budge while I waited, rock still eye glued to viewfinder, for the damned bird/deer/squirrel/lamb/sheep/cow/cat/dog/eagle/seagull/zoo animal* to turn its head. Sometimes they never did. 

Imagine my delight then when I discovered a bird's nest outside my window at work. My office is on the fifth floor with a tree right outside, so my view in the summer months is pretty much into a tree. This year, there is a bird's nest about level with my window. Spring seems to have lost its way to Sweden this year, and my view has thankfully remained foliage free until now. The leaves are just starting to show themselves. So it was a race to see which would break first. The eggs or the shoots. I'd say it is about tied because I returned from a business trip to discover that the eggs were hatched, and the first leaves have appeared. A few more days and I probably would not be able to see the nest any more. Time was of the essence. 

And that was how my camera found its way to my office one day this week. On that day, I developed an almost unconscious habit of turning my head every few minutes to scan the activity on the nest. The earlier part of the morning saw one bird sitting in the nest. Some time later, the other parent returned. Or at least, sometime later, I noticed it returning. It regurgitated whatever something yummy and fed its mate, then off it went again. From what I could tell, this went on for a most of the morning. The baby birds got fed as well, but they were hard to make out with their little beaks barely poking over the top of the nest. I wished I could enter the floor above mine to get a better view, but that floor is unoccupied so I couldn't. Otherwise, I might really have gone up with my camera and asked if I could borrow a window. 

Anyway, by mid to late afternoon though, both birds were starting to leave the nest in search of food. It seems like hard work feeding baby birds - they were on feeding intervals of minutes! Even with the two parents tag-teaming it to feed them, it seemed like the baby birds could not get enough. One in particular seemed to be exerting himself more than the others and before long his demanding tweet could be heard through the glass.

Photo-ops were rare, and usually only when the parents returned. That was the only time the baby birds showed themselves. But it was really a window of about twenty or so seconds. Feeding was often over quickly and down into the nest again, the baby birds quickly disappeared. So timing was crucial. Sometimes, I noticed too late that the birds were back. Other times, the positions of the parents blocked my view of the babies.So I spent most of the day (aside from the few hours when I had meetings and was out for lunch) with my shoes off and a chair strategically placed next to a window, so that should the opportunity arise at the right time, I could grab my camera, jump on the chair, and start shooting in a matter of seconds. Much to the amusement of my colleagues, I should add. I spent a good half hour after work (missing my gym class in the process), stood with my camera at the window waiting for another photo-op.

Of the hundred I took, there were maybe five, that I would say were good. Maybe seven. But just the process of being present and having the opportunity to witness and capture nature doing what it does without human interference, was so satisfying! And that is why I would be a wildlife photographer. Not because I think I take great enough shots that National Geographic would be beating my door down. Not because I think I will make a good living out of it. But the sense of satisfaction, and someone the peaceful joy that comes with watching, observing wildlife, is so satisfying. What a privilege to be a part of this world.

And for the record, I did get some actual work done.

*Select one or replace with name of any other animal