photographing wild animals

Waiting for Wildlife

After more than 20 years of guiding trips and showing people animals, from oceans to forests, there is one thing needed on every single adventure.

Patience.

Animals do not show up on demand.

You have to put in the time. You have to go to the right places during the right time of year. You have to have great guides who understand animal behavior, the landscape, and where to look.

And even if you do everything right, with all the right people...

There are still no guarantees you will see anything.

Getting skunked is part of the game.

It’s not the part we want. Nobody travels halfway around the world hoping to spend days searching for an animal that never shows up.

But unfortunately, if you want to find magic, it’s the only game worth playing.

Wildlife trips involve a tremendous amount of downtime. Searching. Waiting. Watching. Driving. Sitting in boats. Staring at empty stretches of ocean or forest and praying that the animal you traveled halfway around the world to see will finally show up.

Sometimes it takes minutes.

Sometimes hours.

Sometimes days.

And sometimes it never happens.

There are no guarantees.

And I am so very thankful for that.

Because that uncertainty is part of what makes these encounters mean so much.

If the animals appeared every time we wanted them to, exactly where we wanted them to, the experience wouldn’t be the same. There would be no anticipation. No search. No incredible rush when somebody suddenly points and says...

“There!”

I think one of the most important parts of leading wildlife trips is managing expectations.

And sometimes that means having an uncomfortable conversation before the adventure even begins.

I can tell you when the animals are normally there. I can take you to the places where we have historically had our best encounters. I can put you with great guides who know the animals and know the area.

We can study weather, tides, seasons, behavior, and everything else that might help stack the odds in our favor.

But I can never promise you an animal.

No ethical wildlife guide can.

What I can promise is that we will put in the time.

We will search.

We will work hard.

And when an opportunity presents itself, we will do everything we can to put our guests in the right place to experience it.

That distinction matters.

Because managing expectations doesn’t mean lowering them.

It means understanding what you are signing up for.

This isn’t a zoo. It isn’t a theme park. There isn’t an animal waiting behind a curtain for us to arrive.

We are entering their world, on their terms.

And I think accepting that before the trip even begins makes the entire experience better.

I’ve seen it countless times over the years. A guest becomes frustrated because the animal hasn’t shown up. Maybe we’ve been searching for hours. Maybe we’ve been searching for days.

They traveled a long way. They spent a lot of money. They dreamed about this experience for months or even years.

Naturally, they want that encounter.

And I totally understand.

I want it badly as well.

Every guide and trip leader wants their guests to have that incredible moment.

But nature doesn’t care about our schedules.

Wildlife is wildlife.

And in the end, we get what nature decides to give us.

What we are all really searching for is one special encounter.

One magical moment with the animal we have dreamed about seeing.

Just one.

But we have to be willing to put in the time for a chance at it.

Because when that animal finally does show up, especially after hours, days, or sometimes weeks of searching… there are few feelings in the world like it.

I have experienced it countless times.

Hours of absolutely nothing.

Then suddenly... Everything changes.

A wolf walks out of the forest.

A polar bear appears on the horizon.

A whale rises beside the boat.

An animal looks directly at you and, for one brief moment, allows you into its world.

The difference between nothing happening and having one of the greatest wildlife encounters of your life can literally be one minute.

That is wildlife.

That is why we search.

And after more than 20 years of doing this, that is still all I want for our friends who travel with us… is to feel that magic moment for themselves.


The Double-Edged Sword of Wildlife Photography

Wildlife photography has given me some of the greatest moments of my life. 

But it also comes with a truth I can’t ignore… most animals want nothing to do with us.

When I lift my camera, I know I’m stepping into their world uninvited. 

Sometimes, I can feel it, the tension in a shark’s muscles, the way an anteater pauses mid-step, the coyote’s nervous yawn. 

These are signs that my presence isn’t welcome. 

And when I capture an image in that moment, it feels selfish. It feels like I’ve taken something without permission.

There are times it even feels dirty, like I’ve frightened an animal just for the sake of a photograph.

That doesn’t feel like conservation. That doesn’t feel like helping.

And yet… I keep pressing the shutter.

Because I also know that these images tell stories. They travel beyond the forest, the river, the ocean. 

They remind people that these animals exist, here and now, in a world where so much wildness is disappearing. 

An image can plant a seed of wonder, of empathy, of protection.

And when I see the animals reacting, when I sense their stress, I take just a couple of minutes to capture a few images, then I leave them alone. 

Even if I know we could stay longer, even if no one else notices their unease, I feel it. 

I choose to walk away. 

My hope is that those few images will reach the right people, and maybe inspire the kind of change that protects both the animals and the wild places they call home.

I’ve also seen the other side… the encounters where the animal doesn’t mind.

Where they tolerate me, even seem indifferent to my presence. Those moments feel clean, honest, balanced. 

They are a gift, not theft.

So I live in the tension, between selfishness and service, between intrusion and storytelling. 

It’s the double-edged sword of wildlife photography.

And the truth is this… the wild doesn’t owe me anything. 

But I owe it everything!

So if I can turn my imperfect encounters into stories that help protect them, then maybe, just maybe, the scale tips back toward giving more than I take.