Winter Wildlife: My Eurasian Bittern Photography Adventure - picture heavy
Hello,
Welcome to my post summarizing my winter adventure with Eurasian bittern photography.
I have waited years for a winter like this. Honestly, I didn’t expect it. I can barely remember proper winters from my childhood—the kind with snow piles two meters high, temperatures reaching -20°C, and snow lasting from December to March.
What I enjoy most about photography is the time spent with my wife, close friends, or in solitude. I like being masked or hidden in a camouflaged hideout—whether it’s a tent, a makeshift blind, or behind a camo net. Photographing bitterns during this winter was the exact opposite of that. That was why I decided to avoid this photo opportunity years ago when Wanda and I were just a year into the hobby.
So here we are, five years later. During that time, we hadn’t seen a single proper winter in the northern part of the country. Winter here is even rarer than in other regions because we have a huge warm buffer: the Baltic Sea.
Over those years, I came to the conclusion that the next time the opportunity arose, I would go out and take the photos anyway. Maybe because I was scared there wouldn’t be a next time. Maybe because I was curious to witness the spectacle. The ease of photographing bitterns in the snow was also very tempting, and I wanted to see how I would experience the crowds and the whole „behind-the-scenes” mess.
The full story can be found on my website, along with photos in 2048px. It wasn't all black and white, I think.
Winter Wildlife: My Eurasian Bittern Photography Adventure - picture heavy
Hello,
Welcome to my post summarizing my winter adventure with Eurasian bittern photography.
I have waited years for a winter like this. Honestly, I didn’t expect it. I can barely remember proper winters from my childhood—the kind with snow piles two meters high, temperatures reaching -20°C, and snow lasting from December to March.
What I enjoy most about photography is the time spent with my wife, close friends, or in solitude. I like being masked or hidden in a camouflaged hideout—whether it’s a tent, a makeshift blind, or behind a camo net. Photographing bitterns during this winter was the exact opposite of that. That was why I decided to avoid this photo opportunity years ago when Wanda and I were just a year into the hobby.
So here we are, five years later. During that time, we hadn’t seen a single proper winter in the northern part of the country. Winter here is even rarer than in other regions because we have a huge warm buffer: the Baltic Sea.
Over those years, I came to the conclusion that the next time the opportunity arose, I would go out and take the photos anyway. Maybe because I was scared there wouldn’t be a next time. Maybe because I was curious to witness the spectacle. The ease of photographing bitterns in the snow was also very tempting, and I wanted to see how I would experience the crowds and the whole „behind-the-scenes” mess.
The full story can be found on my website, along with photos in 2048px. It wasn't all black and white, I think.
