Month: March 2021

I have been musing the past week over the horrendous floods that have swept through parts of New South Wales. Having lived and worked in the area around Newcastle and Maitland in another universe, I had more than a nodding acquaintance with what ‘High Water Mark’ means. 

What struck me even more were the visuals, both video and still photography, of the rescue operations, and the shattered lives that were saved from the merciless waters.

It took me back, to a photograph that had quite an impact on me as a young lad.  (I’ve searched across the web, and haven’t been able to locate a copy sadly). 
The photograph was taken around 1961 or 1963 as best I can recall.  I’m fairly certain it was taken in Newcastle, or perhaps Maitland, but I do know it was in that area.  I think also, and I’m trying to recall a young lad’s impression of the image, that it was a newspaper front pager. And because of the circumstances I remember the image, it was most likely a Walkley Award winner. 

The photograph showed a small child, and the mother being rescued into a boat from the surrounding waters, with a rescuer in the water with the pair.  What struck me, as a young lad, was, that the child could have been me. And of course the mother, my own Mum, and rescuer any number of people I’d known to help out folk in crisis. 

The impact of the image is important, because it is probably the first photograph I can recall that was more than a record of some event. It carried a personal story—an emotion of the agony of the family, the drama of the rescue and the concern of the man helping in the water. 

Up to then, my interest in learning photography was limited to photos of a cat called “Blackie” in the safety and security of our backyard.  Here in this one image was a world that outside of my childhood interest and I saw how powerful photography could be at storytelling.  So much so that it is probably at that moment the first spark of making photography my life passion was kindled. 

Now of course, as a blog scribe I have to be careful not to read a lifetime of experience back into a childhood lightbulb moment, but the point is that image is one that I can recall, and the magazine I saw it published in travelled with me for quite a few years of my youth.  Sadly one too many moves, and changes of interest, and now, I am bereft of the photo, but hold still the vivid memory. 
As I contemplate it now, it is to my loss, that I didn’t follow through with that initial enthusiasm, and I chose to work in fields other than documentary photography. Yet I feel that every time I press the shutter, something of that lightbulb moment is present. 
I also came across a quote from writer T. S. Eliot this week, he of The Waste Land,  in an essay from 1919. He was deploring the tendency of many critics to only be interested in novelty and difference from other’s work. 

He wrote, “… not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously.’

So I muse, how much of that photographer of the moment of pathos influenced the work I’ve made over the years, and of course how much of my current, and future work.  Rhetorical, I understand.

Here is an image I found while I was searching that was taken several years earlier in the same area, and while not the visual impact of ‘my’ photo, it shows what dreadful impact the floods have on people’s lives. 

This is not the photo I have spoken about, but gives the idea of the work of press photographers at the time

copyright is Newcastle Herald

Now back to the present.
The weather has kept us home the past few days, and #kneetoo has been to a number of medical rounds as the foundation for her new addition.

I took the time to clean the camera, lens and kit, and was outside just checking the focus and things, when Tai Chi pigeon dropped by to see how my practice was going.  Seeing me otherwise engaged it moved to an outside fence, and for just a moment turned toward me against the rich dark shadows of the neighbour’s tree. 

Might not win a Walkley, however I enjoyed the company for just a few moments. As I pressed the shutter, I realised I’d left the exposure set for a much darker scene a few clicks earlier.  Overexposed! Oh dear. A quick twirl of the dial and I was back in the groove.
Which just goes to show, that like all good craft skills, photography needs a dedication to keep sharp for what may happen next. 

Just in case there is any confusion, the title has little to do with the Black Kite in early morning light

EE has thrown a fetlock. 
Mr An Onymous wrote me a note and called for a new moniker, “#kneetoo”,  seemed appropriate.
We have over the past few weeks been unable to enjoy any real field-time as #kneetoo’s fetlock has been getting more and more painful. 

I don’t have too many closeup or head on shots of Swamp Harriers.

Our local area of rivers, a few large water storages and of course the wonderful bird haven at the Western Treatment Plant all carry their fair share of “Swampies”.

But.

It is said, that a Swamp Harrier can see the flea on a dog at 40 Kilometres.
I’ve always thought that might be a bit of an exaggeration, and it would more likely be around 38 km 😉

They also have a total, “Zero Tolerance Policy for Human Beings.” This means they will turn away at the slightest chance of human presence. There are stories of Swampies abandoning a nest when the young are just days from fledging, if the area is compromised by human activity.

So your average photographer around Swampies ends up with lots of flying away back shots.  Showing the colour of its tail as it stretches out to put as much distance as possible between them and us.

They will always have a glance behind to be sure of the source of their concern. So, we accumulate a fair number of bird looking back under or over wing as it powers away.

I’ve sat motionless in the reeds, camera at the ready, while a Swampie makes its way slowly, surely and with great care along the edge of a reed bed. I’m sure that they can spot the mirror going up when I press the shutter and by the time the mirror has come back down again, the bird is already turning away. Perhaps another reason to ponder using a mirrorless camera?

Not only do they hunt from a distance, but they also patrol just above the water line with sweeps over a likely reed bed.  This is a head down absolute dedicated to the task at hand operation.
I’ve probably said before, but I think they have some sort of mapping system that they check against.  If there is a change to what they see to the ‘map’ the airbrakes go on and a much closer investigation begins.
Same map alerts them to a photographer, cleverly sitting in the reeds with camera gear and self all cleverly cameoed up.  That lump wasn’t there before!  Is it food? No!  A danger!  Turn Now. And they do.

This bird was on investigation duty along the edge of bund. It swept high, and low, running across the water, pulling back to gain some height. A cleverly co-ordinated sweep of the area.

I held my breath, I was ‘hull down’ on the other side of the bund, so it hadn’t shifted its gaze that far ahead, and would only have spotted the camera and me from the shoulders up.

Finally I couldn’t hold on any longer and let off a burst, and a split second later the bird had turned and was gone.

I was using the amazing Nikon D500 PSUEDO eye-recognition autofocus and it maintained focus even though the bird was disappearing behind the canola growing on the side of the bund.

After last week’s Saturday Evening Post, about eye-recognition, I couldn’t help myself and this shot seemed to fit so well.
The PSUEDO af is really only single spot focus, kept on the bird’s head.  The D500 does the rest.-)

Bonus Night, here are three from the sequence