Photography by Tom Zeman - I'm a Photographer...

I need to get something off my chest. I am not a birder. I’m a photographer. A photographer who happens to enjoy sometimes photographing birds.

I am not an expert on birds or bird biology. My approach to species identification usually consists of shooting the picture, then trying to figure out what it is in my guide books later. I would much rather make an interesting picture of a common American Robin, than a boring image of birdus exoticus.

As a matter of fact, I really like photographing robins. They’re easy to find, highly approachable, and generally a lot of fun to spend time watching through the viewfinder. They have a whole series of comical and endearing mannerisms that I find to be endlessly entertaining. Your typical Blue Heron, while stately, elegant, and beautiful, is also solitary, skittish, and pretty much just stands there looking spindly. Robins are so used to living in close proximity to humans that they are downright cheeky, and go about their business without missing a beat as you pass by within just a few feet.

Anyway, I didn’t call you here to talk about robins. I wanted to talk about birders. As I said, I’m a photographer, not a birder. Birders are a strange sub-species of humans who spend absurd amounts of time looking at miniscule dots through their spotting scopes or binoculars, and then discussing the particulars of each species. They always seem to assume that you must be a birder too, and always look on a bit disdainfully when they realize you aren’t. Most are friendly enough, often a bit over helpful, while generally being harmless. Birding is a much more social activity, while for me, I enjoy the peace and solitude that being outdoors provides. If I wanted a conversation, I’d be photographing humans.

Unfortunately, some birders have imbued themselves as self appointed nature police. Recently I was verbally assaulted by one such “nature lover” and a young man who I presume (and hope) was her teenage son. This woman prowls endlessly around the local lake with her spotting scope and amateur level camera, and is well known in the area for complaining (loudly) when things (or neighbors) do not meet her satisfaction.

A pair of swans had nested within clear view of the road. They could be approached along the top of a small dam, and I had photographed the nest while standing in 18 inches of water from about forty feet with 600mm of lens. For those who haven’t met a swan, they are large, assertive, aggressive animals. They squabble constantly among themselves and aren’t shy about chasing off anything they perceive as a threat. I had spent so much time photographing this pair, that the male calmly swam off to go feed, and the female went to sleep on the nest. I was careful to not approach too closely, and had they decided I was too close, believe me, I would have been the first to find out!

I had just finished up and was slogging back toward the dam through the mud, when the aforementioned teenaged boy (hopefully her son), approached me along the dam and said, “Are you a birder?!” “No, I’m a photographer,” I replied. “Don’t you have a conscience?” he demanded. His mother (I hope) then joined him, and the two of them began to verbally harangue me for approaching the nest too closely. I tried to politely disengage myself from them, but they wouldn’t relent, and even said, “Don’t you know that raccoons follow human scent to nests?!”

Okay. Raccoons are clever animals. Maybe some of them follow human scent trails thinking there might be trash or something, but I’ve never, ever met one that could follow a trail across open water! And these two geniuses had walked the same dry ground that I had! I had been very careful not to stress the swans, and had been looking for any sign that I was making them uncomfortable. This was not a fragile, endangered species, but rather one that was accustomed to human presence. Fishing in the lake is a frequent activity.

It's worth noting that I’m not a believer in the “Man as Defiler” concept, where everything done by humans necessarily has a negative impact on nature, and that if the animal you’re photographing is aware of your presence, you’re too close. While every effort should be made to avoid undue stress on the animal, I believe Man is a part of nature, rather than apart from it. In December of 2003, I was in Bosque del Apache in New Mexico, and happened to be photographing some snow geese, when Arthur Morris, a genuine bird expert and reigning god of bird photography, came literally charging up and spooked, oh, I don’t know, a few thousand geese into flight. (Not seeing a photograph there anymore, he moved on.)

My local Nature Police eventually sat in their Japanese mini-SUV, watching me the whole time I was removing my wading boots, and only finally leaving when I drove away.

The point of all of this that, if you are a birder, lighten up! There is plenty of room out there for all of us to appreciate nature in our own way!