“I wish you good light” – or simply, “good light!” – is a traditional greeting among photographers. But what does it really mean? Every time that I hear this familiar phrase, it makes me think about what exactly my fellow photographer is trying to say. Are they wishing for lots of light? Or maybe a certain angle or color? Do they mean hard light or diffused light? Well, as a wildlife photographer, I believe the definition of good light is much broader than we often think.
As the saying goes, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. In our case, the gift horse, having traveled some 93 million miles from the sun, is the flock of photons, the light itself. It would be hypocritical of me to claim that I love every kind of light equally – not even close. In fact, when no one is listening (especially the kids), I sometimes curse the fog, the overly harsh light, or the lack of light altogether. For some, the only “good light” is a beautiful sunrise or sunset.
But human life isn’t just about the golden hour. We have to live it from beginning to end, without a ten-hour lunch break to wait for better light. Photography is much the same. If every photo we saw had a well-baked golden tone, we’d soon get tired of it. In fact, any light holds the potential for a great shot.
Through this article, I’ve selected some images with a wide range of lighting conditions. Some were taken in classically beautiful light, while others only count as “good light” in the eyes of an incurable optimist. But they all have one thing in common: I’m glad I took them.
How many times have I wished that the golden hour would last the whole day? Head north of the Arctic Circle during the right time of year, and the golden hour can feel endless. Most of us, however, try to squeeze a lot of photography into brief moments just after sunrise or just before sunset. As in this case with the family of Gray Herons (Ardea cinerea) that I photographed at the end of the day on the outskirts of Prague.
Similarly, when photographing this European Adder (Vipera berus), I took full advantage of the golden hour, along with my familiarity with the local environment. Although I teach my children that animals aren’t to be feared, I am still cautious. When my kids found two large adders near the entrance of their summer tent, I decided to relocate them a few hundred meters away. Incidentally, the following spring I found both adders back basking on the same stump under the spruce.
“I am not going out in the rain, let alone with a camera. All the animals will be hiding anyway.” I know that inner voice well – the one tempting me to stay cozy inside, curled up by the fireplace with a book and coffee. But for those who go out anyway, great photo opportunities may be waiting. As long as you keep the rain on the outside of your camera, your photos may actually benefit from it.
Raindrops create interesting reflections. Longer shutter speeds highlight the paths of falling drops. Wet feathers or fur can look quite interesting and unusual. While there’s often less light when it’s raining, you’ll usually be able to do the trick with a higher ISO, a wide aperture, and a tripod.
If there’s one type of weather that really complicates photography, it’s fog. Don’t get me wrong, landscape photographers love fog. But this love affair falls apart when you attach a telephoto lens. Contrast, detail, and color take a significant hit. However, if the fog isn’t too thick, you can try converting your photos to black and white (the images will be in shades of grey anyway).
That’s what I did with the photo of a Green Hermit (Phaethornis guy) below. I locally enhanced the contrast on the hummingbird, added some film grain, and did a touch of vignetting The result is this geometric, monochromatic composition. Not every hummingbird photo has to be bursting with color.
Beauty and rarity often go hand in hand. In the same way, like a pinch of spice, sometimes just a dash of light can give a photo a special flavor. The two photos below of the Alpine Marmot (Marmota marmota) and the Brown-banded Antpitta (Grallaria milleri) have one thing in common: The main subject is illuminated by a single ray of sunlight. In the case of the marmot, it was really the last moments of the day, as the setting sun shone one last time over the Großglockner ridge. With the antpitta it’s more a typical example of its dark habitat in the undergrowth of the Colombian cloud forest where it lives.
Other times, there is too much sun. Sure, you could spend a sunny day by the pool, sipping mojitos and waiting for better light – or you could go out and shoot. If you choose the latter, be prepared for deep, harsh shadows, distracting reflections, and even blurry wildlife photos caused by hot air distortion. Wildlife tends to be inactive during these hours (just like me), which doesn’t make things any easier. Yet I’ve still seen sunny daylight work well in wildlife photos.
The Australian Comb-crested Jacana (Irediparra gallinacea) is a truly fascinating bird. Its long toes allow it to distribute its weight over the surface of water plants. Its family life is also an unusual exception to the avian stereotype – the females are more colorful than the males! When I tried to photograph one, I struggled with such air distortion that I couldn’t get a sharp photo. It didn’t matter that I had one of Nikon’s sharpest lenses. But eventually I got the shot, and the bright sunlight showed some beautiful colors on the bird and in the background.
The following photo of the Eurasian Coot (Fulica atra) was difficult from the start. Not only did I arrive at the site just before midday, but I was also in the middle of teaching an outdoor lesson and had to supervise a whole class of children. During their lunch break by a small pond, I found an angle where the colorful facade of a nearby building was reflected in the water. As the children ate their lunch, I waited for something interesting to appear in the red reflection. I used the unusually high amount of light to my advantage and shot at a fast enough shutter speed to freeze the water’s unusual patterns.
Other times, the light is good, but it’s just not coming from the direction you’d prefer. But who says every photo has to be taken with the sun behind you? Backlighting can be your ally, if you know how to use it. Some birds can look even better in backlight. That’s why I decided to try photographing the Rufous-tailed Hummingbird (Amazilia tzacatl) facing toward the sun – so that the light would shine through its wings and the tail that gave it its name.
Backlighting works particularly well with animals that are furry or have interesting shapes. The sun shining through a lion’s mane, the shaggy tail of an anteater, or even the frizz of your neighbor’s hair can create a wonderful, glowing halo around your subject. During the Covid quarantine, I didn’t have access to a lion, an anteater, or my neighbor. But there were plenty of Crested Tits (Lophophanes cristatus) in my garden. To enhance the effect, I used a dark side of our thuja as a background, and I think the result turned out well.
In macro photography, a shallow depth of field can turn sunlight into a shower of little stars. Water droplets on vegetation or tree leaves in the background are perfect for this. And when you embrace the light, you can frame your subject in one of these circles of light like a star on a stage. In this case, the star was a Praying Mantis (Mantis religiosa).
Diffuse light from an overcast sky might seem a bit boring, but I actually love it. You don’t have to worry about the position of the sun, and you can focus on your subject. The photos tend to be full of detail, the colors are true to life, and there’s usually less editing required. Diffuse light works particularly well with birds whose colors come from microscopic structures on their feathers – this applies to virtually all hummingbirds, as well as ducks and starlings (and many others). I had been waiting for a long time to find a Shining Sunbeam (Aglaeactis cupripennis) in overcast light to capture its beautifully vibrant back.
At the end of the day, light and darkness shake hands and trade places. Common sense often tells you it’s time to pack up your camera and call it a day. But try to keep going a little longer. Leave your camera on a tripod, push the ISO to absurd levels, open the aperture all the way, and experiment with longer shutter speeds. As long as you and your camera can still see what’s happening in front of you, keep shooting. The sun had long since set behind Ecuador’s Sumaco volcano when I took this photo of a White-booted Racket-tail (Ocreatus underwoodii).
Sometimes, the lack of light in wildlife photography isn’t caused by nighttime, but by dense tropical vegetation. It’s a different situation, but the same problem and the same solution. If your subject is still enough, you can experiment with some truly unconventional exposure settings. I can’t remember ever photographing a live animal with a shutter speed of 3 seconds before, but that’s exactly what I did with this extremely rare Serendib Scops-Owl (Otus thilohoffmanni) on the island of Sri Lanka. Of course, a tripod is mandatory.
Even if there’s no light at all, you don’t have to give in to fate. Grab a flash or torch and create the light you need. If you can predict where a bird will perch, you can set up flashes off-camera and control them with a radio trigger. The Common Potoo (Nyctibius griseus) is a bird that uses the same perch for years. So it wasn’t difficult to plan the scene in advance and position the flashes accordingly. However, do your research and be aware that a flash can temporarily blind certain animals, and do not use it carelessly.
Once you’ve done some research on your subject, you can also consider using flashes during the daylight. In the case of the beetle below, I used a softbox with a diameter of about 40 cm to soften the light. Macro photography very often benefits from a flash, no matter the time of day.
What if it’s pitch black and you don’t have a flash or torch? Well, your only option might be to find and photograph an animal that produces its own light – an animal with the ability of bioluminescence. Unfortunately, birds are off the list. If you don’t want to dive into the night waves for jellyfish, or even deeper for anglerfish, you can try fireflies. I photographed this female European Glow-worm (Lampyris noctiluca) on a warm summer night in Croatia.
I hope that I’ve shed a little bit of (good) light on the subject. If you were expecting a clear answer to the question of what constitutes good light in wildlife photography, you might be disappointed. But if I’ve left you with the impression that good light is whatever light you have outside your window right now, then you’ve got the gist of this article. And with that, I wish you all good light. Even if that light happens to be darkness.