Still Water

Early morning at Intaka Island. A Kiewiet reflects momentarily.

I arrived before the day properly started. The paths were empty, the city still half asleep behind the trees. Water lay flat and dark between the reeds, holding the last of the night and the first hint of light. It felt like one of those mornings where you slow down without meaning to.

That’s when I noticed the kiewiet.

It stood at the edge of the water, body leaning forward, head lowered, as if studying something just beneath the surface. Below it, a reflection formed, clear enough to feel deliberate. Bird above. Bird below. The scene was simply contemplative.

Kiewiets, from the plover family, are usually anything but quiet. I have heard them long before I have seen them, their sharp calls ringing across open ground, warning everything within range that they are present and paying attention. They are watchful birds, confident and vocal, especially when defending territory. But this one said nothing. It simply stood there, looking down.

I waited.

The water barely moved. A faint ripple passed through the reflection, softening the edges but not breaking the moment. The bird remained still, balanced on long legs, posture relaxed yet alert. This is how kiewiets feed, scanning shallow water and damp ground for insects and small invertebrates, always aware of what is happening around them. What looks like contemplation is really focus.

Intaka Island suits them well. It is a quiet wetland tucked into Cape Town, a place where birds find space even as the city carries on nearby. Open ground, shallow pools, clear lines of sight. Everything a kiewiet needs. Standing there, watching, it was easy to forget how close the traffic and buildings actually were.

The light was soft and low, just after sunrise. I raised the camera slowly, careful not to disturb the stillness. The fast shutter froze the scene, holding the reflection and the posture exactly as it was. Later, in Lightroom, I worked the image back to what I felt rather than what I saw, deepening the background to black so the bird and its reflection could stand alone. Not to remove context, but to quiet it.

So why do kiewiets so often look into water like this? Part of it is practical. Shallow water reveals food. Part of it is instinct. Still water reflects movement. In moments like this, a bird can see more than what lies beneath the surface.

Eventually, the moment passed. The water shifted. The reflection broke apart as the bird jabbed the water and then stepped forward to move on, leaving the pool empty and the morning to continue.

Photographer’s Note

This image was photographed at Intaka Island in Cape Town, South Africa, during the early morning. Captured as a single authentic frame using a Sony A1 and FE 200 to 600mm lens at a focal length of 353mm. Post processing in Lightroom was used to create a dark, quiet background that draws focus to the kiewiet and its reflection while preserving natural detail.

Select fine art prints from the Feathered Friends Collection are available via my fine art print website at https://shop.adamkossowski.com. Small limited editions of some prints are now available.

Feathered Friends Collection

The Feathered Friends Collection focuses on familiar birds in unguarded moments. These photographs are less about spectacle and more about presence, small pauses, and the quiet encounters that happen when you slow down enough to see them.