Wildlife photography is usually associated with breathtaking natural beauty, the soothing silence of forest groves, or the fresh scent of meadow flowers. But today’s article is about something completely different. I want to show you that beautiful wildlife photos can be taken in a completely different environment – in the noise of an industrial zone, in a garbage dump… places where the only thing “breathtaking” is the smell of rotting garbage, but where beauty can still be found in the animal you came to photograph.
Animals perceive the surrounding landscape from a somewhat different perspective than we humans do. First of all, they couldn’t care less about the aesthetics of their environment. Most birds also lack a keen sense of smell, so the kind of stench that makes us nauseous doesn’t bother them in the slightest. As for noise, some birds can adapt to it. Certain species even shift the frequency of their songs to a range that simply drowns out the noise of a bustling city.
What matters to them much more is the availability of food, and that can sometimes be found in places of – to us – supreme repulsiveness. To this day, I can still smell the pungent stench of mud when I recall a shoot I did with my friend Tomáš Grim in southern Moravia. The settling pond at the local sugar factory is an excellent spot for birdwatching. Despite the industrial surroundings… and the smell.
When photographing water birds, you often need to get as close to the water level as possible. Even murky water can suddenly turn into a crystal mirror reflecting a blue sky (as we’ve discussed before here on Photography Life). As a bonus, the background gets pushed far behind the bird, making it stand out beautifully.
Tomáš and I arrived at the site a day in advance to set up an improvised hide. We carefully stepped on the crust of dried mud covering patches of deep sludge, trying to guess the outer limit we could reach before breaking through and sinking waist-deep into the foul muck.
I tried to place my feet delicately, like a jacana stepping on lily pads, but to distribute my 80kg, I would have needed feet the size of a car hood. Still, we navigated that minefield surprisingly clean and full of optimistic anticipation for a rich photographic harvest. We managed to set up the hide in a spot that kept us relatively dry and clean, yet close to the birds we hoped to photograph.
At dawn, just before sunrise, we slipped into the hide. We laid a layer of freshly cut reeds over the hardened mud to make it quite comfortable. It wasn’t long before the sun began pulling away the veil of night and brightening the dark water of the settling pond.
The first birds, like the Black-winged Stilt, began marching through the shallow water in front of us, foraging for food. The morning air was filled with birdsong and the stench of decay. A near-perfect idyll.
But barely had we taken our first photos when the ominous rumble of several diesel engines growled behind us. The excavators, which the evening before had only quietly marked the horizon, suddenly came to life. Worst of all, their buckets bit into the sludge behind us and began literally cutting off our route back to solid ground. After about ten minutes, we had to admit that if anyone was going to extract anything from this place, it wouldn’t be us.
Although that morning was mostly unsuccessful, it demonstrated to me that “ugly” locations can still work for wildlife photography. And a few weeks ago, I was able to put that theory into practice again on the outskirts of the Spanish city of Córdoba.
There, a modest puddle from of a recent flood lay between freeway ramps on one side and an industrial zone on the other. The landscape was already alive with the hustle of excavators and trucks constructing yet another warehouse or assembly hall. Massive power line towers and wires framed the horizon; storks had even built a nest atop one of them. The air was thick with the scent of rotten eggs. I didn’t investigate the source – I just quickly sat down by the water, set up my tripod, and threw a camouflage net over myself.
I sat there for more than forty-five minutes in that bleak environment, staring at an empty water surface cluttered with submerged vegetation. The day before, it had been teeming with life: ibises, storks, herons. But today? Nothing, not a feather in sight. I had to laugh at myself, having flown across Europe for this – to wallow in garbage and stare at a stinking, lifeless puddle straight out of a dystopian novel.
Then a Cattle Egret landed in the shallow water not far from me. Could it be that I wouldn’t walk away empty-handed after all? I didn’t move a muscle for fear of startling it. Even when you feel well camouflaged, it’s always smart to wait a while until the birds settle and accept you as a harmless part of the scenery. Still, whether it was my fault or the Egret simply changed its mind about breakfast, it suddenly leapt up and flew away.
I sat there for another half hour, and nothing happened. The light was starting to get pretty bad, and I was slowly getting ready to call it a day, when suddenly the first Glossy Ibis arrived. It also landed quite far away from me, but one bird is definitely better than no bird. Soon, more Ibises arrived. They also landed quite far from where I was, but I didn’t mind. I trusted that while foraging, they’d eventually come closer. And I was right.
In the end, I spent the whole morning in that industrial, thoroughly unappealing environment. It was there that the idea for this article about photographing in ugly places was born. A telephoto lens is a brilliant tool for selective seeing. It has two powerful weapons in its arsenal: a narrow field of view and a shallow depth of field. These allow you to highlight the beautiful and hide the unappealing.
Even a distracting element in the background can turn into an aesthetic feature of your photo. For example, a brightly colored car or a building facade reflected in the water can actually lend an otherwise dull scene a colorful touch.
It is in places like this that one realizes most how subjective a view of the world photography allows. Photography is by no means just a soulless imprint of reality, but your authorial interpretation of reality. Without manipulating the photograph in any way, just by choosing where to aim your lens and where to focus, you tell a story about how you see the world.
Awesome article, Libor. Birds can be anywhere, and it’s great you didn’t let the bad smell stop you!
Thank you so much, Jason. You’re right, birds really are everywhere. And when it comes to the smell, fortunately most sources of it become tolerable thanks to a bit of olfactory habituation. Plus, when something interesting happens in front of the lens, you forget about everything else. Even hunger, and that’s saying something :)
You work hard for your many good images! Enjoyed the read.
Thank you so much, Kurtz. In truth, the real hard work begins the moment I get home and empty my memory card onto a hard drive. When I’m out in the field, it’s pure joy — despite the occasional bit of suffering. That’s the beautiful thing about photography.
Great photos, but when I read your articles I also wonder why not more people show the ugly side of the world. Because after all, all the trash and desolation is just how we are making it, and this simple bias to never show what’s not “beautiful” is kind of killing mankind, because we feel it’s okay to ignore what we dislike :)
It’s a good question. I’ve got a long-term project called “Garbage on the Street” that shows the disposable stuff like cups people throw away. I still haven’t finished it, but every time I go out I prefer to go into nature instead. It’s not an easy thing to do I guess.
It’s definitely a thought-provoking question, Ben. The average person, whose only experience with wildlife comes from BBC and Netflix documentaries, might get the impression that the world is still in good shape. But it’s not. Many of those stunning shots in nature documentaries were taken under circumstances very similar to the ones I describe in my article. Maybe not directly in an ugly environment, but often right next to it. Take Africa, for example. Nowhere else have I seen such a stark contrast between wilderness and wasteland. The contrast between protected areas with elephants and rhinos and unprotected areas with… nothing. It would definitely be an interesting subject to explore. Unfortunately, I feel that too many people suffer from selective blindness and deafness when it comes to issues like this.
Great article – thank you!
Thank you very much for reading, BG.
Excellent article, great points!! Really nice photos, BTW. I have used this approach for macro shots in order to hide or exclude unwanted elements of the scene, but you have taken this to a much deeper level. These photos look like a wildlife preserve. Beautiful job.
Thank you so much, Hector. It’s exactly the same story with macro photography as it is with wildlife. Sure, you’re working with a shorter focal length, but you can still push all that distracting mess into a merciful blur, far away in the depths of your depth of field.
Great article! I have yet to find your first bad photo. You are an artist. Thank you so much for sharing this. Have a nice weekend. Greetings, Danny
Hi Danny, thanks for your kind comment. In reality, most of the photos I take are bad. It’s a bit like mining for precious metals or minerals – most of what you dig up is worthless rock, a fair amount is average quality, and only here and there does a pure nugget shine through. In other genres of photography, this ratio might be a little better, but in wildlife photography, the process itself is so rewarding that even a memory card full of bad shots shouldn’t ruin a good day.