Jon Morgan

It was a Friday pizza night after work, and some of us were playing a game. The question came up “What makes you really excited?” I had my answer quickly, but didn’t share it because I didn’t think it would be understood. So instead I’ll share it here.

The game

The game was Wavelength. This isn’t the place to explain how the game works, but I was faced with something like this:

I was trying to think of something on a scale from Boring to Exciting that would get my team to point at the middle red. Something like 3/4 of the way round, or maybe 7 out of 10. In short, something that was exciting, but not too exciting.

I tried something, and clearly I got it wrong, because my team went almost all the way to the right. That then led to the question “OK, if that doesn’t make you really excited, what would?”

In answer, an image popped into my mind. An image that felt completely obvious to me, and yet probably wouldn’t be understood. And so I sat there looking lost until someone else said “How about travelling overseas?”, which I quickly agreed with.

Spotting a new bird

What I had thought of was “spotting a bird I hadn’t seen before” (preferably when I have my trusty camera to hand and can make a clear shot).

As it turned out, a couple of days later I found a good example:

At the time, this bird felt completely new to me. Later I looked it up and realised I probably have seen golden whistlers a few times, but it’s rare. It was exciting.

Following my original plan for the day, this place just a stop on the way. It had been wet and the lake there had swallowed some of the path, so I was trying a side-trail to get back to my car without completely retracing my steps. That afternoon, I was supposed to be getting to a museum, then taking another walk if the weather permitted.

But when I saw that particular bird, that all went out of my mind. I went both still and silent, desperately trying to get my camera out and set up a shot without disturbing it. Then another shot after that. I continued to watch it (and to take photos) till it flew out of my sight.

It wasn’t like it was the first bird or animal I’d seen on the walk. I’d already spent time watching and photographing ibises, fairy wrens, swamp hens, rabbits, and even a horse. But this particular bird encounter meant that I kept looking. I can’t have been more than a few hundred metres from my car, and yet I didn’t get back to it for at least half an hour. In that time, I saw crimson rosellas, yellow robins, fantails, and other birds.

I know I would have had a great time there anyway, but spotting the golden whistler was one of the things that made it particularly exciting.

Not just new birds

One of the great things about both my hiking and my photography is that they bring me into contact with a variety of birds and animals. Some of them are unusual, while others are ones I see more frequently.

Crimson rosellas, fairy wrens, cockatoos, magpies, lorikeets and noisy miners are all examples of birds I see frequently. But that doesn’t stop me watching them and trying to capture them.

They can still captivate me. Maybe they’re doing something unusual. Maybe they’re posing beautifully. Maybe they’re singing beautifully (it won’t be reflected in the photo, but I as the photographer appreciate it). Or maybe I just want to try capture them anyway.

I won’t go into it expecting to get the best photo I’ve ever taken of that particular bird. In fact, it may end up very similar to hundreds of photos I already have. But I still get excited by it.

Birds and animals are individuals, doing their own thing for their own reason. They may watch me carefully, they may try to avoid me, or they may be completely oblivious to my presence. I never know what to expect. And that’s part of why these encounters can be exciting (not to mention frustrating…).

An obsession

Last October, I strained my neck (while in bed sleeping, I think - that’s an incredibly dangerous occupation right there 😛). The slightest wrong movement could set it off. Running was completely out, and even walking was painful and difficult.

A couple of days after it started, I was slowly walking home from the station after work, and probably feeling quite sorry for myself. Then I spotted the sunset, and the photographer’s instinct struck again. Suddenly I found myself ignoring the pain, leaving the path, and starting casting about to try and find the best position and angle to capture the sunset.

So it’s not just birds and animals: Almost any unexpected photographic opportunity can get me excited.

These unexpected encounters and opportunities tend to stop me in my tracks. Whatever I was thinking of or planning is forgotten. So is the heat / cold, my tiredness, and even injuries like that strained neck.

So what if I need to reach the next destination / finish the walk / get to an appointment on time! That’s all irrelevant now. The important questions have become: Can I capture whatever it is before it gets away? And if I can, how long will I stick round watching and photographing?

So yes, these encounters can be exciting - but perhaps a better word to describe what’s going on would be “obsession”.

Yes, I’m a photographer

If you’d asked me ten years ago, I’d probably have said I wasn’t a photographer. Yes, I owned a camera, and yes, I used it to take photos. But it was something I did on the side - it wasn’t a core part of my identity.

This has changed a lot in the last couple of years. Ten years ago I certainly took photos, and so in that sense could have called myself a photographer. But now I take a lot of photos. Enough to completely change my life.

I’m more likely to see opportunities than I ever was, and I’m also more likely to act on them (even when it’s socially awkward or I should be doing something else). For example, I notice that I track birds and butterflies and bees around me, watching them to get a feel whether they’re likely to land somewhere photogenic. I know I do it far more than I used to, and I think I do it far more than others around me. Then, when I determine it could be a good photo opportunity, I’m much more likely to have a camera available and ready to whip out than I ever was.

This post shows another sign that my photography has become part of my core identity: when asked what makes me excited, the first thing that comes to mind is photographic opportunities.

Some more photos from the day

Since I’m talking photos, here are some more photos from the day I saw the golden whistler.

As I said, it had been wet and the lake had swallowed some of the path:

Parts of the path also did their own swallowing:

At least the general wetness made for good reflections:

Including a nice view of the Dandenong Ranges:

There were ibises roosting in the trees. Note the one on the right checking in the mirror to make sure it was getting the feathers correct:

Then the ibises went down to forage:

They weren’t the only birds in flight, either:

There were rabbits about:

Fairy wrens were leaping and chattering as normal:

So were the fantails:

While the treecreeper was (surprise!) creeping up a gum tree:

Once I finally got back to my car, I went to a creek trail next to a major road:

And was reminded of the importance of noticing the small and the unexpected by a butterfly seemingly not caring that it was in the middle of the path (hopefully it didn’t later get squashed by some inattentive pedestrian or cyclist):

I went to the museum as planned, then when it closed on to Lillydale Lake to wander and to face the rain expected in the evening.

Once more there were reflections:

And birds to watch and capture:

As sunset approached there were groups of ibises in flight, presumably returning to their colonies for the night:

It started to promise sunset at the same time as it started to rain:

I thought the advancing clouds would mean little in the way of colour from sunset, but I turned out to be wrong:

You know what? I was excited to discover a good sunset view where I hadn’t expected it.