Taking Off

December 19, 2020December 16, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

It was definitely a wellie day. After almost a week of rain, the ground squelched and sloshed with each step. The thickest tussocks of grass were dry, but most of the ground was speckled with puddles. That wasn’t a problem though, and by the looks of the oranges and yellows appearing to the east, the sunrise was going to make some welly wading more than worth it.

Slinging my camera across my back and clutching tripod and camping chair in each hand, I threaded my way around the deepest puddles, leaving indentations in the grass behind me. The chattering babble of thousands of geese easily crossed the still bay, and in the gloom I could just about see them packed tightly together on a skinny sandbar. The tide was coming in so they didn’t have long. Neither did I, so I hastily set up the tripod and waited.

In minutes the sunrise had transformed from a haze of yellow to a blaze of scarlet and bruised purple. That was where the geese would soon be heading – taking off in swathes and moving inland to browse in the nearby fields. As if someone had turned up the volume, the honking increased drastically and a number of them took to the air, triggering others around them to follow. Most stayed behind though, leaving the ambitious few to form a loose skein that blew across the sky like a stray ribbon. They crossed from the pale navy light into the fiery sunrise and shrank to dots. A little while later another group took off, then another, and for the next hour and a half the crowd on the sandbar slowly diminished. It was lucky for me that they left in shifts because I had plenty of opportunities for photos.

Although I’d come especially for the geese, there was an unexpected bonus display from a large group of knot that was murmuring like starlings over the water. The tiny waders climbed high into the sky, and each time they twisted back on themselves the sunlight caught their white bellies and the whole murmuration flashed like a torch. As the tide continued to sweep in, the knot were pulled further and further towards us until they settled on the receding sand and began to forage among the oystercatchers.

Eventually, all the geese had departed for the day, and an unseen distraction had frightened the knot back into the air, where they circled several times before settling far across the bay and out of sight. In a fairly short time, the thousands of birds and their incessant chatter had gone, leaving the bay smoothed over by silence.

Deer Walking

January 13, 2016September 18, 2019 | Rebecca Gibson

In the nineteen years that I have lived in Hertfordshire, a thirty-minute train ride from London, I have never been to Richmond Park. This realisation dawned on me last week when I was home for Christmas. I was due to return to Carlisle that Sunday, so I seized my last opportunity and invited my friend from Wildlife Media, who lives in East London, on a trip to the park to see if we could see any deer.

I wasn’t quite aware how fiddly the tube journey to Richmond was – the District line is what my grandfather would undoubtedly describe as a ‘tricky customer’. But, after only getting on one wrong train, I found where I needed to be.

Finding the park was another challenge, but eventually we arrived, just as the rain started. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be finding any deer but within twenty minutes we’d stumbled across a herd of Fallow deer (Dama dama) about sixty strong. Not quite believing our luck, we set up and sat hunched in the rain for over two hours, barely noticing the time fly by.

We were positioned by a group of very relaxed bucks, who would occasionally butt heads almost lazily, as if inconvenienced by some extremely important responsibility. Often they wouldn’t even bother standing up, and instead opted to fight awkwardly whilst laid out on the grass.

We were sat by what we thought was Head Honcho, Buck No.1, judging by the size of his antlers. Therefore we were surprised when a buck further away began bellowing and chasing the does around. Buck No.1 did stand up at the commotion but didn’t respond, so led us to believe that although he was a very impressive looking individual, he wasn’t the dominant male in the herd.

When our legs were finally dead and a group of tourists had started to approach brandishing selfie sticks, we moved on. After walking about quarter of a mile, we saw two Green Woodpeckers (Picus viridis) and a whole group of chattering Ring-Necked Parakeets (Psittacula krameri). I’d heard about captive Parakeets escaping and colonising in the wild, but I’d never had the opportunity to see any.

A little further on we asked some dog walkers if they’d seen any Red deer (Cervus elaphus). Just after they told us they hadn’t and went on their way, they called us back and pointed over the hill to a large group of Red stags lounging in the sun.

There my friend and I were, trying not to jump up and down and shriek. Instead, we set up again and began capturing some shots. I was a little more intimidated this time because those stags were big old brutes. Luckily, they seemed to be in their golden years as they weren’t nearly as active as the Fallow bucks.

After a time we settled down for some food, and were joined by a pair of Egyptian geese (Alopochen aegyptiaca), which I’d never seen before. At the time I had no idea what they were, but I was astonished that a goose could look so beautiful.

By then it was mid afternoon and we were both cold and tired, so took the long route out of the park (unintentionally) and back to the station. A good day had by all.

Battling The Storm

December 1, 2015 | Rebecca Gibson

As a wildlife enthusiast, I am constantly looking to the professionals for inspiration. In the November issue of BBC Wildlife magazine were some of the winning images from Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2015. One particular image in the Birds category had a lasting impression on me.

Technical Specification: Canon EOS 5D Mark III + 70-200mm lens at 163mm; 1/800 sec at f5.6; ISO 500

This image, named Battling The Storm, was taken by Italian photographer Vincenzo Mazza, who predominantly captures Italian and Icelandic landscapes. The location for this image was a lagoon in Reykjavik, the subjects were Whooper swans (foreground) and Greylag geese (background).

What I love most about this shot is how effective the juxtaposition is. Initially, the image looks tranquil with cool, diluted colours and a simplistic composition. However, when viewed more closely, it becomes apparent that the scene is far from tranquil. The birds are caught in a violent storm and the dreamy mist on the surface seems more like froth from the churning tide.

This image is significant to me because it puts into perspective the struggles that migrating birds face each year. The majority of Whooper swans spend winter in Britain or Ireland, flying up to 1400 km to reach Europe. This journey is the longest sea crossing of any swan species.

This shot was captured in January, so it is unusual that these birds were found so far from their winter home so late in the season. This context brings up questions about why the birds were not where they would usually be. In my opinion, that makes this photograph a great one; it has evoked an active response in me, the viewer. That is the ultimate objective for a photographer, so Vincenzo Mazza has produced what I consider a successful outcome.

Chasing Autumnwatch

November 16, 2015 | Rebecca Gibson

Last Friday, the Wildlife Media students (or wildlings as we are now sometimes known) visited Caerlaverock Wetland Centre in Dumfries, Scotland. This was the site that BBC Autumwatch used as their base this year, and although it’s always great to visit a new nature reserve, it would have been incredible to visit while the studio was set up.

We arrived at the site at 6:30am, shivering against the cold but ready to catch the sunrise. Led by our guide Sara, we frog-marched into the mere and set up, hoping to capture the Barnacle and Greylag geese coming in to land. The sunrise was satisfyingly dramatic, but the geese decided to take shifts when landing, so the sky was never really the sea of flapping wings that we’d hoped for.

Today marked my first Whooper Swan sighting, and I was spoilt for choice when it came to photographing them. I loved the way this individual was preening his feathers, so decided to capture the water running off the bird’s bright yellow bill.

I also saw my first Wigeons today. I’ve fallen in love with this delightful little bird. Although tiny and cute, they had no problems in making themselves heard. Sat in the hide, I often saw a feisty male nip birds four times his size on the tail feathers in his haste to get to the grain.

I thought I’d try going a little artsy. Supporting my camera with a tripod, I used a slower shutter speed to blur the movement of both the rippling water and the paddling geese. The result looks dreamlike and serene.

I had a great time at Caerlaverock. Although it was bitterly cold, the wait was rewarding and I got to tick off several water bird species from my list. Here’s to the next field trip with the wildlings!

Field trip to Derwentwater

November 10, 2015November 25, 2015 | Rebecca Gibson

As part of the module ‘Interpreting the Natural World for Media’, we visited Derwentwater, a beautiful body of water in the Lake District. Our assignment involves writing a report about the site, the geomorphology of how it was formed and the impact humans have had on its development.

It was such a serene location. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to walk around the whole circumference of the water, but hopefully I’ll go back before the assignment deadline so I can experience everything Derwentwater has to offer.

I saw a variety of species on my visit, including a nuthatch hopping through the trees and a large gaggle of Greylag geese bobbing in the shallows. They later took off and soared overhead, organising themselves seamlessly.