This week I’d like to share a story about photographing whio/blue ducks. I was down at Tūrangi for a week to photograph the ducks that are now reliably found due to regular predator control. Being early spring they were pairing up and being quite territorial, staking their spots on the river so there had been quite a lot of movement of pairs up and down the section I was exploring. 

Late in the day at the edge of the river, I was waiting for one to arrive. I was at a reliable location where they’d been repeatedly, so I felt patience was all it needed. A couple of hours later, surprisingly, none had arrived and the light was fading fast. The thought of a stout with dinner in a warm cabin was becoming more attractive than a cold riverside rock.

Feeling philosophical, I decided to head home, but while crossing the swingbridge I looked upstream and saw, beyond an island, a great cormorant sitting on a rock that would make a nice subject. Not having any especially decent photos of great cormorant, I decided at least if I headed upriver and photographed that bird, I’d have something to show for my afternoon. 

I hiked up above the bird before sneaking into the river. Crouched and wading slowly, I worked my way down the edge to get a nice low perspective on the cormorant and really enjoyed watching it preening and flicking water. I moved a little to get a better background and was happy with what I’d got.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement, a blue/grey river stone was drifting downriver, followed by another. Feathers resolved with a pink bill and piercing yellow eye, a pair of blue ducks. They just silently appeared drifting down the current, only a few meters away from me.

Keeping my nice low perspective, I tracked them as they fed in the current and got photos of them feeding, diving, preening, resting on rocks. It was a lovely experience. They were entirely comfortable with me and in the fading light they began courting and mating. So what had turned from a salvage excursion, a great cormorant in exchange for no blue ducks, had developed into one of my most intriguing blue duck encounters ever. Just another example of why never giving up is worth it.

For me, the biggest joy in outdoor bird photography is just being in the environment. I get pleasure from just sitting and watching nature. Disappearing into it so that I am irrelevant to the birds is a joy. The photos are a bonus and a reminder of the experience.

My photos of the great cormorant on the rock will be a reminder of the sudden excitement of seeing these blue ducks drift down close to me. My photos of the blue ducks feeding and courting will be a reminder of the privilege of disappearing into nature and having wildlife accept you while just getting on with their lives.

Technically it was challenging, with the birds being at times a little bit too close for my 800mm lens, and the fading light and the desire for deeper depth of field making exposure really challenging. 

The obvious excitement of the encounter prompted my smartwatch to give me a notification that I’d just had a stressful period as I was walking home. Smartwatches obviously aren’t smart enough yet to differentiate the tachycardia of excitement from the tachycardia of stress.

Photos with Nikon Z9 and Nikkor Z 800mm f6.3 PF