In many ways, our modern society conditions us to find excitement and joy only at the pinnacle of experience. With nature photography, this looks like the epic sunset, the perfect swath of autumn color, or being in the presence of especially dramatic scenery. While I still seek out such experiences, I try to balance them with finding equal satisfaction and happiness with more common everyday experiences out in nature. A recent example: feeling full of joy and excitement when I saw a thriving four o-clock wildflower and its glowing magenta petals, with white-lined sphinx moths actively feeding on its nectar, in late October while on a casual evening walk in the Utah desert.
A few days ago, upon the recommendation of fellow photographer Dario Perizzolo, I listened to an episode of the Hidden Brain podcast, “How Your Beliefs Shape Your Reality.” Near the end, the psychologist being interviewed, Jer Clifton, suggested a simple mental exercise to help cultivate curiosity and promote this kind of connection with the natural world. Pick up a leaf from a tree and contemplate its beauty: the shape, the colors, the intricacy of the veins. If this leaf was rare, it would be considered a work of art but because it is so commonplace, it doesn’t command any special attention—or any attention at all.
If we can shift our thinking to see beauty in something as common as a leaf, we can potentially improve our well-being. Instead of passing by these everyday things without a second thought, we can give them attention (rocks, tree bark, ripples on a lake, seeds developing after a flower fades…). We can spend time contemplating the beauty, intricacies, and interconnectedness of the common things we encounter in nature and the resulting moments of joy and learning can promote greater happiness, and for nature photography, deepen a photographer’s relationship with the natural world and help them see more opportunities.
In this post, I am sharing a collection of photos from Olympic National Park, a tweet about female birds, and a story about arctic ground squirrels in Alaska but the places and subjects are not the point. With the photos, the subjects are plain: a collection of rocks, the ripples on a piece of washed up kelp, fallen pine needles, a bit of weathered driftwood. The photos, together with the two stories, instead represent this important overall lesson, both in terms of finding joy in everyday life and for sustaining interest in nature photography over the long term. Subjects like these can be found in any natural setting and appreciating them more deeply can enhance our time spent outside.
The Hierarchy of Birds
Listening to the Hidden Brain podcast connects to a tweet I saw earlier this year. I frequently think about it when I am out hiking and photographing:
As described in the article linked to this tweet, the Audubon Society recently established the Female Bird Prize as part of their annual awards. It was “created to call attention to some of the most overlooked birds in the world.”
In May, I badly hurt my back and was not able to carry my heavy camera bag for a few months. Since walking helped me feel better and I could comfortably wear a Cotton Carrier harness for my camera and a long lens, I spent a lot of time photographing birds over the spring and summer. Aside from watching a few videos on autofocus settings for bird and wildlife photography, I was coming to bird photography with a pretty fresh mind. I haven’t spent much time looking at bird photography and am not steeped in the conventions of what makes a good bird photograph.
During these frequent outings, I was happily photographing a lot of female birds, along with common birds like sparrows, magpies, and robins, without realizing that they are generally considered drab and very boring subjects. Instead, I found all of these subjects charming and beautiful—even a plain brown bird often has intricate feathers and pretty patterning. The tweet above popped that bubble. Now, I find it very sad that the Audubon Society decided it needed a special award for female birds because they have been so under-represented in their competition. Just like many landscape photographers see the most (or only) value in bold subjects and conditions, bird photographers apparently value showy and colorful male birds far more than their boring, bland, and often brown female counterparts.
The Arctic Ground Squirrel Incident
A recent experience in Alaska follows the same pattern. Denali National Park has only a few established trails, most of which are near the entrance. To see more of the park on foot, a visitor needs to buy a ticket for the hiker bus, which currently travels to mile 43 of the park road (the rest of the road is inaccessible due to a landslide). The driver of our hiker bus seemed to know the landscape quite well, sharing a lot knowledge about the plants, animals, and terrain we were seeing. When we stopped to watch a grizzly bear, the driver spent a lot of time on a lecture about treating wildlife with respect and the importance of not habituating the bears to humans.
As we were nearing the end of the bus route, an arctic squirrel darted out in front of the bus—and the driver sped up and didn’t do anything to avoid it. We got off the bus at the end of the road, planning to walk for four or five miles before getting back on the bus for the return trip to the visitor center. Along our walk, we saw a freshly killed squirrel on the road. Since only park bus drivers are allowed on this stretch of road, one of them hit and killed this squirrel.
As we were walking, we saw a number of living squirrels along this stretch of road and they were so fun to watch (photos of the ground squirrels will be included in next week’s post). An individual squirrel would pop up out of its burrow, showing curiosity as we passed by, and then get back to the work at hand. Some of them appeared to be gathering grass seeds to help prepare for hibernation—a hibernation that is unique among mammals:
“Researchers at the University of Alaska at Fairbanks have shown that during hibernation, arctic ground squirrels adopt the lowest body temperature ever measured in a mammal. The body temperature of hibernating squirrels drops below freezing, a condition referred to as supercooling. At intervals of two to three weeks, still in a state of sleep, hibernating squirrels shiver and shake for 12 to 15 hours to create heat that warms them back to a normal body temperature of about 98 degrees Fahrenheit. When the shivering and shaking stops, body temperature drops back to the minimal temperature. This type of hibernation is rare among mammals and scientists are still studying this unique physiological behavior.”
Along this stretch of road, we saw eight grizzly bears (all from the bus, including a mom and three cubs), about ten caribou, lots of birds, and the arctic ground squirrels. I found all of these encounters to be equally exciting. Even though the ground squirrels are visually sort of plain and obviously much smaller compared to the bears and caribou, we felt fortunate to be able to get fairly close to them and watch them for an extended period of time. While the bears and caribou are also comparatively rare, the arctic ground squirrels are an equally important member of this ecosystem and it was dismaying to see a park employee with clear affection for the wildlife only extend that affection to the most conventionally impressive species.
Be the Person Who Photographs the Female Birds and the Arctic Ground Squirrels
It takes effort and confidence to push against the trends that place lower value on the female birds, the arctic ground squirrels, or the photos of somewhat mundane subjects like those included in this post. On the other side—the side where some popping bubbles on a beach are seen as valuable enough to photograph and share—is a happier existence, or at least I think it is based on my life experience over the last five years or so.
I want to be the person who seeks out and enjoys the female birds as much as the showier male birds. I also want to be the person who finds value, beauty, and charm in the arctic ground squirrels, sparrows, magpies, and robins. And, I want to be the person who enjoys all the metaphorical female birds: the everyday subjects that we can take for granted because they are common but in fact hold a great deal of beauty if we stop to appreciate them on their own terms.
I agree with the psychologist from the Hidden Brain podcast about the importance of cultivating this curiosity and appreciation for the everyday because I have seen his lesson play out for me and others on a similar photographic path: we can modify our patterns of thinking and practice, and doing so can enhance our well-being as creative people. We can learn how to be more curious about the natural world, engage with it more deeply, and be open to the beauty all around us, valuing the everyday as much as we do the epic or incredible. Doing so can have all sorts of positive psychological benefits and, specifically for nature photography, improve our experience when going outside and looking for things to photograph. So: photograph those female birds!
Sarah Marino is a full-time photographer, nature enthusiast, and writer based in southwestern Colorado. In addition to photographing grand landscapes, Sarah is best known for her photographs of smaller subjects including intimate landscapes, abstract renditions of natural subjects, and creative portraits of plants and trees. Sarah is the author or co-author of a diverse range of educational resources for nature photographers on subjects including composition and visual design, photographing nature’s small scenes, black and white photography, Death Valley National Park, and Yellowstone National Park. Sarah, a co-founder of the Nature First Alliance for Responsible Nature Photography, also seeks to promote the responsible stewardship of natural and wild places through her photography and teaching.