Through the Lens, With Respect
Infinite Time in a Moment: My Approach to Photographing Wildlife
The gravel road rattles beneath the tyres, each jittery bump a reminder that I’m leaving the everyday behind. The sun has barely risen, and the world outside the vehicle feels like it's holding its breath. Somewhere out there, something wild stirs—and I’m on my way to meet it.
These drives out into the bush are never smooth, but they’re always full of promise. Before the day unfolds, I usually take a quiet moment for myself—a quick turn of the lens, a test shot, perhaps catching the flicker of light through dust or a still moment of reflection. These early frames aren’t always meant to be shared, but they anchor me. They remind me to stay present. Because when you’re photographing wildlife, presence is everything.
I’ve always been drawn to places where nature speaks a little louder and the human footprint is lighter. That’s why I choose my locations with great care. Not all safari experiences are equal. In some regions, wildlife sightings are swarmed by vehicles, the scene quickly becoming a crowded spectacle. I avoid those places. The reserves I visit operate with a deep respect for the land and the creatures that inhabit it. Often, only one to three vehicles are allowed near a sighting at any given time. There’s a distance to be maintained, a time limit respected. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. These limits protect the animals—and, in truth, they make every encounter more meaningful.
Out there, we rely on the incredible knowledge of local trackers and guides. These are people who read the bush like a book—interpreting every broken branch, footprint, and bird call. Their instincts lead us to incredible moments, and I’m constantly humbled by their insight. When an animal is found, that moment of first sight is always a small kind of magic. And then it’s all about quiet observation. Watching how they move, interact, pause. There’s something sacred in it. I try to photograph without disturbing. It’s not just about the shot—it’s about bearing witness.
I also love venturing out on foot when the terrain and safety allow. There’s something visceral about walking through the wild, guided by the soft tread of a tracker and the calm alertness of a guide. It heightens every sense. You learn the rhythm of caution: how to freeze if an elephant appears, when to wave your arms, or how to respond to lions with stillness. And with leopards—never look them directly in the eye. They interpret that as a challenge, and that’s a line you don’t want to cross. In those moments, my role becomes even clearer—quiet, respectful observer, camera in hand, heart beating a little faster.
My love for wildlife and wild places will never fade. But photography, for me, is more than just following lions through the bush or framing a herd of elephants against a crimson sky. It’s about stories. It’s about searching for the unexpected in the familiar—whether I’m in the mountains, standing by the sea, wandering through a city, or watching a storm roll in across the horizon. I’m drawn to mood, light, and detail—to the narratives that live in shadows or a fleeting glance.
I suppose my drive as a photographer is to create something that feels alive—not just an image, but a moment suspended in time, full of breath and texture. I want each photograph to offer something beyond the two dimensions. A whisper of the scene’s emotion. A sense of the air. A connection.
If you’ve taken the time to read this far, thank you. It means a lot. I hope you’ll continue walking this journey with me—through the quiet, the wild, and everything in between. There’s so much more to discover, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
Until next time—
Adam
