Having my home office window overlook a heavily wooded area is one of those everyday gifts that never gets old. The constant movement, the changing light, and the steady presence of birds make working indoors feel anything but confined. I’ve always loved being outdoors and bringing that experience right into my workspace has been both inspiring and incredibly rewarding.

Photographing and filming small birds is one of my favorite activities, and this setup makes it easy. If you’ve ever wondered how to create an intimate bird photography space right at home, here’s a look at how I do it.

Just beyond my window is a dense, wooded area where birds naturally feel safe. I regularly watch woodpeckers dart from tree to tree, warblers flit through the branches, and cardinals perch nearby. Many of them nest close by, using the trees as shelter. I’ve added a few bird baths and a small platform area, offering a once-a-day snack to encourage visits without disrupting their natural behavior.

Why go to all this effort? Because watching birds has a calming, grounding effect. Ask any bird watcher. Observing nature pulls you out of the daily routine and into a quieter world. Most birding happens at a distance, hearing calls or spotting movement far away. Seeing birds up close, through the lens, feels almost magical.

Beyond the window which serves as a blind, there’s a platform-style feeder, a vertical branch that woodpeckers love, and a narrow vine that attracts smaller birds, especially warblers. I can focus on any of these elements depending on which species are stopping by, giving me flexibility without disturbing the birds. 

Gear

My camera setup is simple but effective. I position a camera with a telephoto lens facing the wooded area outside my window. I set up my camera toward the birds and wait for activity. In addition, I can use Auto Capture if I’m away from the camera. It works like a camera trap and is very easy to set up. This is especially helpful because different birds are drawn to different foods, and I can review what birds are visiting throughout the day.

For support, I use a LenCoat Ground Pod paired with a Wimberley Gimbal, a setup I’ve trusted for many years. The gimbal allows for smooth and quick multi-directional camera movement, important for fast-moving subjects or remain perfectly still for video. My cameras include the Nikon Z9, Z8, and Z6III, paired most often with the NIKKOR 400mm f/2.8 TC lens. The built-in teleconverter allows me to instantly reach 560mm, which is incredibly useful for small, active birds. I also use the NIKKOR 180–600mm lens, a versatile option that offers a wide range of focal lengths and works beautifully for bird photography.

Camera Settings

I usually shoot in Aperture Priority and prefer to work as wide as possible, typically between f/4.5 and f/5.6. My camera sits about 20 feet from the feeder platform, a 400mm lens reaches this easily. The goal is sharp wings from tip to tip, while still maintaining a soft, creamy background that doesn’t compete with the subject. Subject detection is set on Birds.

Shutter speed is critical. To freeze fast action like a woodpecker in flight or a bird hopping between perches, I aim for 1/4000 as a baseline. ISO is adjusted as needed to maintain the shutter speed. Frame rate also matters. Small birds move incredibly fast, covering surprising distances in fractions of a second. I often shoot at 20 frames per second or more to capture those fleeting, perfect wing positions that happen in an instant. Pre-release Capture is beneficial setting for fast action shots.

Know Your Subjects

Whether they’re migratory or year-round residents, birds are endlessly fascinating to photograph. Adding natural food sources can enhance photographic opportunities. Beautyberry (Callicarpa), for example, is a flowering shrub with vivid purple berries that birds love, and it adds beautiful color and texture to images.

Consider a include a squirrel or raccoon baffle to gently discourage furry visitors and allowing you to focus on the birds.

Creating an out-the-window bird setup doesn’t require a remote location or elaborate hide. Sometimes, the most meaningful wildlife moments are waiting just beyond the glass, ready to surprise you.

New Article in Outdoor Photographer Magazine: Flight Plans

Read the full story on Nikon Learn & Explore

I’ll be presenting on Sunday, March 29, The Art and Technique of Photographing Florida’s Natural Beauty: Seascapes, Landscapes, and Birdlife. I’ll share my favorite tips and techniques for both photography and videography, with a special focus on filming birds. Birds in flight are a true passion of mine, and capturing their movement and behavior continues to inspire me.

Seascapes have captivated me since childhood, and I’m excited to share the inspiration, ideas, and artistic approach behind photographing Florida’s coastlines, landscapes, and incredible birdlife. From understanding light and composition to reading bird behavior in the field, this presentation blends art, technique, and storytelling.

This conference features an incredible lineup of speakers, and I truly hope you’ll join us for an inspiring weekend of photography, learning, and community. 

https://f3c-conference.org/

For example, I noticed the developing cloud formations over the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge in the afternoon after returning from a morning of shooting in the area. I made my way back to the Embarcadero with my Nikon Z 7, wide-angle lens, tripod, and neutral-density filters. Mid-afternoon light is very bright, so I chose a 15-stop neutral density filter to extend the exposure time into the six-minute range. I composed to include the aging dock that leads to the more contemporary bridge, I loved those two elements paired with the developing cloud structures. During the course of six minutes, the clouds build and are painted by the gentle wind, creating an image that is unique and beautiful.

During the evening, no filters are necessary, you can use low light to take advantage of a long exposure. On the pier, I noticed a previously empty sky filling with fast-moving clouds over San Francisco. I placed my camera low to the ground for an appealing perspective and chose a 30-second shutter speed to record the action of the clouds. The couple stopped just long enough to make the image perfect.

I love finding ways to create unique imagery in commonly photographed locations and I love the opportunity to pair technology with creativity for artistic imagery.

I worked hard at changing that, at figuring out what I needed to do in order to creatively communicate. One of the changes I made was to consider the composition of my photographs to be purpose driven, and the images you see here are examples of how that works for me.

Big Bear

Black bears are common in Florida, and they’re not uncommon in my backyard, where, thanks to my security cameras, I usually see them wandering at the wooded edge of the property. Sometimes, though, they come closer to the house to see if the trashcans are available or the bird feeder accessible.

This guy climbed the feeder post but couldn’t get past the raccoon baffle. I composed this shot from the office-window setup I use to photograph birds, deliberately for effect by filling the frame to communicate my reaction to him—his bulk, the position of paws and claws, his concentration. The photo, taken with my 200mm lens, is not about details, subtlety, or even the story of what the bear was up to. It was all about, Wow, check this guy out!

Location, Location, Location

This image was driven by the place and what I knew I’d find there when the elements aligned the way I hoped they would. The Orlando location inspired me with what it offers in late afternoon light, when the colors are richest and beautifully reflect the buildings around the lake on a day when it isn’t too windy. I knew there were birds, and all I needed was one to give me the composition I’d pre-visualized.

This heron, though, was constantly moving, which meant I had to move with it, all the while looking for the right reflections, the right angle, constantly analyzing and evaluating the changes in composition. When the moment was right the combination of my 70-200mm, the 2X teleconverter, and a fast shutter speed of1/1,250—got me the image I wanted.

Into the Sun

While teaching a workshop in St. Augustine, the main photo op was this team hired to gallop the beach at sunrise. The composition was achieved by creating the setup and leaving everything else to camera position and continuous high-speed frame-advance. The workshop folks were shooting away and so was I, and this is one still frame of a sequence shot at 1/5,000. It’s my hero shot, so much so that I used it commercially to illustrate a story at a different website. In a sense, it’s after-the-fact composition—the single frame specifically chosen, at the computer, from all others, some which had the duo closer to sun, past the sun, and at the edge of the frame.

So why this one? Several reasons: the gesture angle of the rider’s lean; the pattern of kicked-up water; the undisturbed reflection; the front hooves clearly seen off the ground; and that the subjects are heading toward the sun, which captures my feeling that the image is both iconic and symbolic.

Bare Trees

Conditions were right—afternoon sun, clear sky, Colorado location—and I’d gone out to photograph snow. It turned out that there wasn’t much of it, so I turned to what I really liked: how stark the trees were. Their look carried the idea for the composition, but before crouching low and using my Nikon Z9’s tilt monitor to frame the shot, I set the camera’s Graphite picture control because its tones would intensify the starkness that attracted me in the first place.

The composition required two key elements: the sunburst (from an f/16 aperture) and the 14-24mm lens at its widest to tell the most interesting story. I especially like the balance and contrast of the thicker leading lines that draw viewers’ eyes up to the lacework look of the branches. The photo has been likened to a pen-and-ink drawing, and when that was mentioned to me I realized that the image is close to an art-class project.

Multiple…

Tequesta beach at sunrise with my 14-24mm wide angle, composed to capture what captured my interest: so many sections, layers, textures, and shapes of ocean, waves, rocks, and beach. I had to have them all and there were two decisions involved in that, neither of them difficult: which lens to use and where to stand.

…Choice

With the first Tequesta image made, I changed the composition to get a more straight-on, basic look that opened up the landscape and gave more emphasis to what was going on in the sky. It’s a different story, more of a document than an emotion. To be honest, this shot was a bit difficult, not because it involved any extreme of position or even a change of lens, but because I tend to get so into what I’m doing, I could take 15 pictures from the same place. I have to remember to vary my compositions. You might prefer one Tequesta over the other, but the idea is to have a choice, and to think up interesting ways of portraying the same conditions and elements.

Summing Up
Composition is part of the imaging process, one that includes a lot of considerations and elements, including lens choice, angle of view, time of day, quality of light, leading lines, balance, gesture, even framing rate. Your best images will come alive for you, and I think you’ll find those images result from challenges, emotions and ideas. I’ve found effective composition requires all three.

Read more of my articles at Shutterbug.

If you want to know why they’re so important, just look to the movies.

The Storytellers
Consider the three shots you see all the time in films: the long shot, the medium shot, the close-up. The long shot establishes the setting—in fact, it’s sometimes called the establishing shot because it’s the scene-setter. The medium shot gets closer to provide some details, and the close-up delivers the intimacy: greater detail, more information, maybe eye-catching color, contrast, and even a surprise.

When I’m behind the camera, I’m the director—observing, reacting, planning, and interpreting. Lens choice is all about storytelling, and for me, the 14-24mm, 24-70mm and 70-200mm Z lenses for my Nikon Z camera are the essential storytelling lenses.

I reach for the 14-24mm when I want to show a vast landscape—actually, as much of the landscape as possible, because that’s the key to what a location is like, and what I want to do with what it’s like. There’s a lot the 14-24mm can pack into the story: ocean, sky, clouds, landscape or cityscape.

I especially like to use it for long exposures because it can hold the movement of clouds, light, waves or car trails. It’s the big-picture lens, and frankly, I’m looking for it to elicit a big reaction.

The mid-range 24-70mm tells a different story as it reveals particular details I want viewers to see, graphic details that tell more about the location and the items that interested me and lend themselves to creative composition.

It’s ideal for street shots, people pictures, and marketplaces—the “walking around” images that introduce the location to viewers.

When I want to bring those viewers closer, when I want to emphasize what I felt was fascinating, the 70-200mm has the versatility to do that. It can handle portraits, close-ups, abstract images and compositions

I frequently add to the versatility of the 70-200mm by carrying  the Z TC-2x teleconverter.

Always Be Prepared
The scouts had it right, and lens choice is all about preparation, about being ready for whatever comes my way. No matter whether I’m going to a familiar place and want to picture it in a different way, or visiting a location for the first time and want to capture my discoveries and my sense of what that place is all about, I’m prepared to interpret, create, and communicate.

Beyond the gear, preparation includes ideas and techniques. None of the images I take are snapshots, and very few, if any, are lucky shots. There’s an idea for each one, a reason for its taking beyond the visual statement.  I stood here and this is what I saw. What I’m interested in showing is what I felt about what I saw.

My essential trio of lenses has the versatility to enable me to do that. I didn’t go out and take the accompanying photographs to illustrate the idea of this story; rather I wrote the story to tell you how and why my essential lenses made the photographs possible.

Of course there were a few lucky ones—like catching the Bar Harbor sailboat a few seconds before the sails came down in anticipation of a glide toward the dock. But I’d seen that happen a day prior to making the photo, so I knew when the window of opportunity would close. Luck, after all, does favor the prepared.

Read more of my articles at Shutterbug.

I set out to create images for specific reasons, even if they are only along the lines of, “Well, this is an interesting scene; now let’s see what I can do with it.” That’s the beginning: here’s what interests me; here’s what I feel about it. Now, how can I use the camera to communicate? Nothing starts without my idea or purpose. I believe the art of photography is not in the technology, and it’s not in what I see: it’s in what I can make others see, and in the creative purpose and control of the elements of an image. Technology is the means to that achieving that.

Simply, we are the most important features of our cameras. Here’s how that works.

Rocky Mountain Highlight

What caught my attention at this spot in Rocky Mountain National Park, CO, in late November a few years ago was a solitary aspen surrounded by big conifers. The idea was to somehow make it the obvious center of interest, so my first decision was not to shoot in color—it would interfere and distract. My choice was the graphite picture control, which would give the image a heightened contrast and direct viewers’ attention to what I wanted them to see: a small tree standing out among larger ones.

My overall thinking about picture controls is that they serve picture ideas, and they are all about picture creativity. I use them sparingly. I don’t scroll through them to see various effects. That’s for the photographer in search of an idea, which is very different from what I do. 

Flight Plan

Not too long ago, this shot was impossible, at least for me. I was barely able to see it in real time—the swift takeoff of the tufted titmouse from the feeder in a gesture-filled flurry of wings and tail feathers. By the time I’d press the shutter, the bird and the moment were gone. Then a firmware upgrade to my Z9 provided pre-release capture (Nikon calls it Pre-Release Burst). In a nutshell, with a halfway press of the shutter button, as I’m seeing real-time motion in the viewfinder, the camera begins buffering a sequence of images before the full press of the shutter.

This is the kind of photo you take just to see what it looks like because you can’t see all the details in real time. It’s also the kind of photograph that makes you believe in magic. You can read about my indoor/outdoor bird photography setup in an earlier column here.

Flower of a Greater Power

What I didn’t want was a literal this-is-a-flower picture. Colorful, sure, but frankly, too ordinary. I was looking for flower plus—something that the image explores, and that viewers could explore. That was possible because of my Z5’s double-exposure capability and a Nikkor 105mm f/2.8 Z lens, a macro with a 1:1 reproduction ratio that would get me as close as 6.3 in. Two shots later I had what I wanted. The first photo was the sharp image; the second, the impressionistic overlay.

Distant Lightning

I arrived an hour before dawn at Tequesta, FL, to scope out the terrain, get an idea for the composition and consider lens choice. When I saw lightning flash, my goal was clear: get it. Problem was, it was unpredictable, and so my tech decisions included setting up a five-second exposure, then boosting the ISO to 800—which I knew was high enough to give me enough light gathering for this time of day at that exposure. You’re seeing one lightning strike in three sections: up top, slightly below, and below mid-frame. I also set the white balance for natural light auto, which I knew would tend to capture the purple/blue tones I wanted.

Time Out

Many of the catchphrases for New York City suggest its tough, driving nature—like “the city that never sleeps”—but I decided to contrast its hard-edged skyline with a long-exposure cloud painting, the result of a great vantage point, a tripod, and a four-minute exposure. By controlling the light and the speed of the clouds, I could ease things up a bit while allowing the city to maintain its edge.

Hawk Eye

The red-shouldered hawk was just beginning to take off from the backyard feeder, and the idea of the photo was pretty basic: get the bird taking off, in focus, and stay with it as it flies. In the past this could be hit or miss, but now it’s another day of bird-feeder photography as my Z9’s Animal Eye AF locked on to insure sharp focus. This was the best of three photos in which the hawk was well positioned in the frame.

Read more of my articles at Shutterbug.

The city was decked in lights and decorations for the coming Christmas holiday, and to make the scene perfect, it was snowing...and heavily. I'm from Florida, so snow is a big deal, and I was out on Pearl Street knee-deep in it—with my camera, of course—as tourists took it all in and locals skied their way along the high street.

I took some color photos, but I didn't really like how the lights and decorations detracted from the beauty of the snow and its effect on Boulder's city hall building, so I switched my Nikon Z7's picture controls setting to the black-and-white graphite effect.

Which changed everything. My photos went from colorful, festive, brightly lit and thoroughly modern to the look of a 19th-century black-and-white lithograph. I'd turned back time. Pretty cool, I thought.

Here are three reasons why I think you should "turn back time" as well by giving black-and-white photography a try.

#1 Timeless Quality

Black and white is the subject of this story because it's been on my mind recently. With travel curtailed—pretty much erased, actually—I've been traveling through my archives, and, with the Boulder image in mind, I've been engaging in some post post-processing: that is, deciding which color images might tell a very different story if I converted them to black and white.

Color, of course, has its own power: it attracts attention, of course, but it also triggers instant associations, connotations, and emotional cues. Think of the cool, peaceful tones of various shades of blue; the drama, strength, and "pay attention!" command of red; the good cheer and sunny disposition of yellow.

Take color away and other factors in the image—light, shadow, tone, texture, graphics, even structures—become more obvious, dominant, and powerful. Think also about how timeless an image looks in black and white. In the Boulder photo I changed the feel, the emotion, the time—everything.

I can reach for black and white before, during, or after taking a photo. Sometimes, on the scene, I'll want to tell a subtle story by emphasizing parts of the composition. Maybe there are beautiful, gentle clouds coming across the sky, and I want to capture them against the rugged terrain of the foreground.

I can also apply that idea to a cityscape, where there might be a lot of starkly textured buildings and soft, beautiful clouds. Thinking in black and white is sort of a Rorschach-like look at the world.

#2 Adds Texture & Tone

Creating a black-and-white from a color image falls into two general categories for me. There are the "let's see how this looks," after-the-fact instances, and there are the photos I shoot in color knowing I'll be converting them later.

For example, I never envisioned the Maroon Bells, Colorado, image as black-and-white. I shot it in color one September at the peak time for the golden aspens; that was my vision when I took the shot.

But later, reviewing the photo, I saw the ruggedness of the terrain, the reflection in the totally smooth water, and the expansive clouds that had so much variation, and the photo as a black-and-white image became a study in textures, tonality, and patterns. When I took away the color it became a totally different picture, one that elicited a more satisfying emotional response.

The "shoot it in black and white right now" decision is a pretty common occurrence for me. The Colorado photos with their contrasts of dark and light forms, were decisively and necessarily black and white.

#3 The Other Black and White

If you're familiar with my photography, you know that I'm a serious, dedicated shooter of infrared (IR) images. I've written a book on the subject, and not long after the introduction of the Nikon Z7, I got a second body, and had it converted for infrared photography.

Which means that when I look through its viewfinder, I'm viewing an infrared world. It's kind of weird—seeing color until I look through the finder—but it pretty much takes the trial-and-error and surprise factors out of IR photography. Before mirrorless, my dedicated IR camera was a Nikon D7000 DSLR, and after a while I knew its tonal reading of a landscape scene: how white the grass would look, how bright the white of tree leaves would become.           

I love IR for landscape photography because it's a different way of seeing the familiar, a move away from reality, but still anchored in the real. And if you're shooting it with a DSLR, there's still the surprise factor to make infrared photography an adventure.

Even though circumstances turned me toward my photo files for a creative outlet—other than my ongoing "birds of my backyard" project—black and white is not an afterthought. It's truly a creative technique, a special effect, and a way to influence the emotional effect of a scene or alter the emotional reaction to an image.

In my previous column, I talked about techniques I use to go beyond the simple capture of a scene. Here are some additional ideas and techniques you might want to try.

1. Reflections
I use reflections in two ways: the subject and its reflection in the image; and an image that’s only the reflection.

Every reflection is an opportunity to make creative choices. How much subject reflection do you want in the picture? How do you want to frame the reflection? How much attention do you want to be paid to it?

It’s fairly easy to use reflections in your photos; wherever there’s water, there’s opportunity. No matter where I am, at home or halfway around the world, if it rains I’m likely to be the first one out taking photographs. The world becomes a much more expressive place when even a lowly puddle can be a creative graphic element of composition.

2. Multiples
Oftentimes a literal interpretation isn’t enough for me. I want something more creative, so I’ll set my camera in multiple-exposure mode and see what that idea can do for my subjects—which could be flowers, or architecture, or cars, or you-name-it.

Essential ingredients for multiples are a zoom lens and a tripod with a ball head. I move the camera and zoom my lens between exposures in small, defined, regular increments.

I think of multiple exposures as part technique, part experiment because I’ll get different-looking results depending on the subject, the number of exposures, and the degree and direction of the movement of the camera. At their most successful, they’re eye-catching expressions of color, texture, and implied motion.

3. Starbursts
The formula is easy: first, a bright, single-light source that stands out against the surroundings; then, a small lens aperture—say, starting at f/16 and getting smaller.

Starburst images work best in the low-light conditions of the blue hour, twilight, and sunset, when the most popular single source—the setting sun—or the glowing lights on bridges, piers, ships, and decorative displays offer their best and brightest. A check of your results on the camera’s LCD will show what you’re getting and if you need to adjust your aperture for more pronounced or dramatic results.

Of course, the combination of small apertures and low-light conditions makes a tripod essential for starburst photography.

4. The Late Show
I loved a location in Paris, but I first saw it in daylight when it was crowded with tourists and locals, which made for some good photos, but wasn’t what I really wanted: the place itself, with its architecture and ambiance the subject rather than the activity on the street. So I came back after dark and took a three-exposure HDR to capture the range of tones and contrasts and the dimensionality of the scene.

I converted the image to black and white because I was inspired by Brassaï and his book, Paris by Night. I felt also that taking away color allows light, shadow, texture, tonality, and pattern to become all the more prominent and dominant. There’s a different visual narrative without color.

5. Sense of Place
I had two ballerinas as models for a workshop in Cuba, and when I photographed them on the Malecón in Havana, I made sure to include Morro Castle in the image. (See one of those images at the top of this story.) Had I shot with just the sea as background, it could have been a photo taken anywhere. With a place reference, people who know Havana will know where the dancer is, and they will also make the connection to the role dance plays in Cuban culture.

Sense of place photos happen when you look beyond an initial scene to include something significant to the location. With that in mind, they’re easy to do. Going to be in New York City? A Yellow Cab in the background is all you need.

If you decide to put any or all of these ideas and techniques to work, be sure to add, subtract, combine, and improvise to make the photographs your photographs.

Read more of my articles online at Shutterbug.

Infrared (IR) light is the light we don’t see, but we can photograph its effects—and that’s what got my attention: how I could with infrared photography take subjects I saw every day and transform them into something extraordinary; how they became beautiful and magical, certainly surreal, maybe a bit mysterious.

I loved how infrared could be a scene’s mood shifter, a different way to tell a story—a way that was often more powerful than a regular color or black-and-white picture.

But before we go any further, just what is infrared light? Without getting technical, it’s light in the electromagnetic spectrum with longer wavelengths than visible light. We can’t see it, but we can certainly capture what it does.

In order to take infrared pictures in the days of film, I needed film that was sensitive to the infrared spectrum. In the early days of digital, I put an R72 infrared filter on my lens to block visible light and allow only infrared light to reach the camera’s sensor.

Today I shoot with modified DSLRs that are dedicated to infrared photography. These cameras’ straight-from-the-factory built-in filters, which block IR light, have been removed and replaced with filters that allow in only IR light.

If you decide to convert a camera for IR photography, you can choose the type of IR filter you want to have, and your choice will depend on the infrared look you want in your photos. If you’re unfamiliar with the various choices, the best way to decide would be to check out the examples of IR photographs that you’ll find at camera conversion company websites.

My IR conversions were done by LifePixel, which has a helpful website video that demonstrates the range of control you can get with various IR filters. The site also offers a display of sample images that result from the different filters.

Over the years I’ve used three Nikon DSLRs as my dedicated infrared cameras: a D40X, a D200, and a D7000. These days I shoot mostly with the D7000, which was modified by LifePixel to produce a standard, traditional black-and-white IR image.

My D200 has their Super Color filter, which produces a heightened infrared color effect. The D40X, my earliest dedicated IR camera, also has the standard conversion filter. Overall, I prefer the traditional look because it gives me images with the greatest contrast and the strongest blacks and whites.

The Experience Factor
At the start, infrared photography is a matter of gaining experience, of experimenting (for a fairly short period of time) to find out how your camera reacts to the scene, and to find out what kinds of scenes will produce the most dramatic or subtle results or, more important, the kinds of results you like to see. I found out right away that my dedicated IR cameras functioned exactly the same way as my other cameras when it came to exposure, metering, and focusing. Some people have found that their cameras need a bit of exposure compensation to produce the results they want, so it’s best to take a few shots to see how your make and model reacts to IR, and if any adjustments—say, a stop or a half-stop of exposure compensation—are needed.

I also learned early on how infrared light is reflected or absorbed by trees, vegetation, and buildings, and how the reaction to various surfaces will affect IR images. From that experience I knew what types of scenes would give me the best IR results, so I knew to bring along my cameras if I was going to be in locations that would give me a great IR look.

One of those places is South Beach, Florida, where the beautiful palm trees with their feathery fronds as well as the great details of background architecture will give me striking pictures. If I’m headed for the Palouse region of Washington State, I take my IR cameras because infrared is how I want to portray much of the area’s incredible landscapes.

The Real Deal
I know there are postproduction programs and filters that will give photographs an infrared look, but there’s no post effect or technique that can portray the intensity or brilliance of reflected light that a real IR image will capture. It’s not possible for programs to emulate the depth and detail of an image taken with a dedicated IR camera.

But the camera by itself doesn’t guarantee good results; experience does. It’s said that Ansel Adams was able to envision what landscapes would look like in black and white as he looked at them in color. I believe the infrared photographer has to be able to envision, to a great degree, what the result will be, and the skill to do that will come with experience.

You’ll know, for example, that conifers are going to react differently than, say, maple trees. From experience, you’ll know what’s going to create a really beautiful IR image. There may be some happy accidents, but for the most part you’ll know what you’re going to get. And unlike Adams, you’ll be able to check the results right away!

Got an older digital camera in a closet or on a shelf? Thinking of upgrading your current model? Convert a camera to infrared and tell some different stories.

Read more of my articles on Shutterbug.

The project was pretty much the only self-assignment that made sense when travel was severely limited, extremely inadvisable, or downright impossible. And, on the very positive side, it offered an obvious advantage: while I’d rather travel to pursue wildlife, here wildlife would be coming to me.

I began with a simple plan: the photographs would be about the birds, not what attracted them. I was after bird portraits; there would be no traditional feeders or other distractions in the photos. I would pretty much limit shooting to the early hours of the morning, and I’d photograph from inside my house. Temperatures in Florida at the time were in the 90’s, so rather than hang out in the hot backyard and scare off my subjects, it would be better to shoot from an open window when the birds would be looking for breakfast—and I’d be supplying it. 

First, there was some homework. What were these birds, anyway? And what did they like to eat? A little online research turned up the answers, and then I was ready to set up my inside/outside bird photography studio.

Built For Comfort
My plan was to keep it convenient and uncomplicated. Outdoors I’d offer some seed on a feeder platform, include a perch, and provide a birdbath. Indoors I’d set up my camera on my desk so it’d be about 18 ft. from the birds, open the window in the early morning after spreading some seed, and wait for my portrait subjects to arrive. I could work at the computer and take my cue from the birds’ sounds. They’d let me know when it was time to take pictures.

The camera-lens combo for the portraits was my Nikon Z7II and Nikkor 500mm f/5.6 mounted on a Wimberley Classic Head so I could swivel to cover the feeder, the birdbath, and the trees beyond. The gimbal head was mounted on my Platypod, which made for a low, perfectly flat desk mount.

As you might expect, fast shutter speeds are absolutely required; mine typically ranged from 1/400-1/4000, with ISO settings often up to 4000. My go-to apertures were f/5.6-f/7.1 to balance depth of field with non-distracting backgrounds, as the photos were all about the birds, not the setting.

Outside, the whole area was designed to attract birds with food, water, even a play area—a trellis that would also serve as a staging area for birds waiting their turn at the feeding platform. Since I also planned to shoot video, I wanted to capture the birds’ sounds to mix to the footage, so concealed behind the feeder post was a Rode Wireless GO transmitter/microphone that would send sound to a receiver atop my camera.

I’d foil the nemesis of bird feeders and photographers everywhere with a Wild Birds Unlimited squirrel/raccoon baffle for the 4x4 post that supported my feeder platform. A branch holder—so the birds would have an inviting perch on which to pose for me—also came from Wild Birds Unlimited. I’d keep changing the sticks and branches to keep the birds curious and my compositions changing. (You’re thinking, “So the birds didn’t get bored?” Right, and so I didn’t either.)

The plan worked perfectly. The birds were irresistible. Colorful, active, various, interesting, and funny, they got the picture right away as the sound of the screen door in the morning became a signal: fresh seed, guys! Come and get it. And I got their pictures with relative ease and comfort.

I could either keep my eyes on the camera’s LCD or work at my desk, and then, alerted by the sounds of the birds—I got used to their different voices, so I knew what type of bird was going to be there—I’d check the LCD and start shooting. 

All in all, it was a whole lot better method than being out in the yard in the Florida heat with my camera, lens, and tripod, remaining stock still, concealed in foliage, hoping to get striking compositions. That kind of plan could’ve brought on Vertigo. 

Read more of my articles online at Shutterbug.

You could say that there’s a “before, during, and after” to every image: the things you do to prepare, execute, and adjust that make a photo more than just successful. I don’t know about you, but I got past “successful” long ago, and key factors in my progress were some not-strictly-photographic accessories. Here’s a quick look at my new and updated essentials.

Stand-Up Guys

The gooseneck Platypod is incredibly useful for holding stuff, upright or angled, indoors or out. Bend it, shape it, any way you want it there’s nothing like it. The new model is the Platypod eXtreme (left in the photo). With adjustable and reversible feet, it’s made to hold tight to rough or ragged surfaces and terrains. In the photo it’s holding a Lume Cube mini constant light.

The eXtreme can be fitted with the Platyball, a ball head that’ll hold your camera for remote or low-angle imaging. The other Platypod in the photo is the standard model, and it’s holding one of my many prisms.

Beam Weaver

When I saw that people were painting with light, I thought, “white light, okay; light with color, better.” So I started carrying color gels as well as a flashlight. Over time came better flashlights and more gels in more colors in more convenient kits. Today I use a Fenix PD35 flashlight and a Rogue assortment of flash-photography color gels in a pouch I can throw in my backpack; outside the pouch, a pink gel.

I took this photo of one of London’s sundial sculptures—that’s Tower Bridge in the background—with the Fenix and a purple gel in a walk-and-paint exposure of about 25 seconds.

Afterimage

The TourBox Neo is a smart, sophisticated post-processing controller I’ve been using with my Photoshop and Lightroom programs. I’m a pen-and-tablet person, and can remain so with my left hand operating the Neo, not the keyboard, which makes for a faster and more efficient workflow. Essentially the Neo is a coordinator of movements, and even though there’s a bit of a learning curve, it’s ultimately easier to use than explain.

Weatherwise

Knowing where to be, when to be there, and what to expect when I get there is vital. Three apps I use to provide that information are, left to right, The Photographer’s Ephemeris, Blue Hour, and Tide Chart. The Ephemeris told me where the moon would be, and its phase, for the blue moon photo, and Blue Hour indicated the time for the best blues. I got to the location early enough to photograph moonrise over the Atlantic, and then, guided by the Blue Hour app, came back the next day to photograph the seascape for the final, composite photo.

The Tide Chart app tells me when low tide is going to be, which means I’ll know when rocks will be exposed, and when I’m least or most likely to get soaking wet making the low-angle photos I love to make.

The Ephemeris also includes Skyfire, which tells me if tomorrow’s sunrise or sunset is going to be great, and that played a part in the sunset sail photograph, where there were actually three app factors at work: I knew the sunset would be great, the tides would be low (so I could place the camera low to the ground), and there’d be clouds. When I showed up at a place I knew would offer sailboats sailing by, everything came together for a photo that doesn’t happen by chance.

Where’s My Stuff?

AirTag, from Apple, is an accessory I can’t do without. Designed as an item finder, it does more than that in the peace-of-mind department. One tag goes in my backpack, one in my camera bag, one on my keyring (along with a tiny Fenix flashlight), and one in my wallet. When I first heard of tiny tracking devices I thought, As a travel photographer, how can I not have those? They are simply, and elegantly, essential assurance.

Read more of my articles online at Shutterbug.

Give that a moment to sink in. I did, and I realized that a key to not making that mistake comes down to refusing to settle for simply recording what’s there. Photography beyond the ordinary communicates—or at least suggests—what you were feeling; it’s photography that shows the viewer what moved you and fascinated you, on an emotional level, about the scene or subject.

I realized also that it’s what I do. If I’m viewing, say, the Eiffel Tower, I will not be satisfied with a picture that simply shows that someone with a camera was there. I am driven to make a picture that shows I was there.           

Connecting the emotion of the moment to the image is the essence of not making the mistake A.D. Coleman pointed out. Taking the time to think things through helps. So does the incredible camera technology at your fingertips. So does your experience—what you’ve learned along the way. But ultimately the most important factor is your confidence that what you’re seeing and feeling is worth communicating. Think, Why am I going to take a photo here, of this place, at this time? What is it saying to me, evoking in me? Why am I interested, and what do I want to communicate?

Here's how thinking about all of that works for me.

Summer Breeze

I have a friend who’s a painter, and what I was seeing that summer day at Juno Beach Pier in Florida reminded me of his style in depicting scenes of peace and solitude. That was my emotional reaction, and I expressed it with a 215-second exposure that smoothed the water until it resembled the pristine sand of an undiscovered beach and turned the summer clouds into brush strokes across the sky. Both effects were in contrast to a structure made by people, but thankfully, at that time, there was no one in sight; just this perfect place, waiting.

Wish You Were Here

The emotion here, in Cassis, a small fishing village in France, at the blue hour, was how fortunate I was to be seeing what the people across the water—on the streets, in the shops and restaurants, aboard the boats—could not see; they had no idea of the beauty and charm of the scene. The stage was set—blue hour, lights, reflections—and the result was all about what I could do with it in a 30-second exposure at f/16, to not merely record this little bit of paradise, but intensify it to match its effect on me.

Changes

I saw implied menace in the storm clouds coming in over Naples Pier at the Gulf of Mexico, and my thought as they approached was that the moment was temporary and unpredictable, so I’d best be quick. My 15-second exposure caught the clouds as they formed up, and the 24-70mm lens served to both isolate and include. The postscript to this photo is that sadly, the pier was heavily damaged by Hurricane Ian.

Stay Where You Are

What I was experiencing from this vantage point above this part of the River Walk in San Antonio, Texas, was energy—predominantly in the flow of the river taxis, but also from the comings and goings of tourists and locals to what’s billed as the state’s major attraction. No literal image would capture that feeling, so I took four individual four-second shots from which I layered the water taxi sections in post to create the “brush strokes of color” effect.

It would be easy for me to tell you that you can get these kinds of emotionally-driven images just by bringing, and relying on, your camera lens and tripod, but while technology and imaging capability are essential to the process, that’s nowhere near the whole story. You need imagination, creativity, and confidence in your own ideas. You also need to know—and you will discover—that a lot of this is just plain having fun, and to prove that, here's one last example of capturing what you’re feeling.

Goin’ Back

I’m such a child when it comes to Fall because I live in Florida and this is not what we see. I made this slow-motion video in Twin Rivers, CO, in the perfect light of mid-morning with a clear blue-sky background, lying down, looking up and letting it happen through the accentuating eye of my 8-14mm fisheye lens. Later, in post, I looped the original footage several times to make the childlike appreciation I’d experienced last a little longer.

I’m such a child when it comes to Fall because I live in Florida and this is not what we see. I made this slow-motion video in Twin Rivers, Colorado, in the perfect light of mid-morning with a clear blue-sky background, lying down, looking up and letting it happen through the accentuating eye of my 8-14mm fisheye lens. Later, in post, I looped the original footage several times to make the childlike appreciation I’d experienced last a little longer.

Read more of my articles online at Shutterbug.

You can create high contrast black and white images easily in Photoshop by using Threshold from the Adjustments panel (screenshot below). It just takes a few seconds, here's how... From the Adjustments panel, choose Threshold. Adjust the slider as shown below in the second screenshot left or right to create high contrast with your image. You can see the before and after below. (I filled in part of the Mask just so you could see the impact on the same picture). All you need to do is choose Threshold, and tweak the slider, that's it! You can do a little touch up work if needed. I recommend using Photoshop's Oil Paint filter afterward to smooth out any jagged pixels and create a hand painted look. These zebras were photographed in the wild in Tanzania. You can try this on zebras a little closer to home in a zoo. Have fun in Photoshop!