Focused on the moment

A lot of wildlife photography is a reaction. The photographer sees the animal, whips the camera up, and hopes — right settings, right focus, lucky timing.

I believe the secret to consistently getting the lucky shot is planning. Know where the animals will be before you arrive. Have your settings locked in before you hit the trail. Learn to read what an animal is telegraphing through its posture and behavior — and you'll be in position before the moment happens, not after.

Luck doesn't disappear. It just stops being the only variable.

A white arctic fox walking in snow with a white background.
A bald eagle perched on a piece of driftwood near a body of water, with grassy vegetation in the foreground and a blurred, hilly landscape in the background.

Workshops

One to two days, built around a tight schedule of locations and conditions, so every hour in the field has a purpose. You'll learn to read the conditions, anticipate behaviors, and have your camera settings locked in well before the action starts, so that you’re focused on the moment, and the moment becomes the story.

Guided Expeditions

Small-group, multi-day field experiences in Alaska’s most productive wildlife corridors, where the days unfold around the animals, not the clock. You’ll spend real time in the field, learning to read animal behavior, anticipate the moment, and recognize the patterns that signal something is about to happen.

Private Sessions

One guide, one photographer, built entirely around where you are and where you want to go — a single day on Kachemak Bay or a multi-day expedition in Africa or Alaska’s bear country. No fixed schedule, no group pace. If you want to move faster and go deeper than a group setting allows, this is how.

From the Field

I'd been belly crawling across loamy river sand for twenty minutes, closing the distance on a bald eagle feeding on a salmon. When I reached the right range for my lens, I settled in and waited. When the eagle ducked its head and hunched its shoulders slightly — a small thing — I knew what it meant and I was already running the shutter before it ever left the ground. I was caught up in the exhilaration of the moment as the repetitive clicks of the shutter mirrored the beating of my heart watching it take flight.

That's the shot. Not luck. Not reaction. Preparation
meeting a moment I'd learned to see coming.

I write about animal behavior, light, and what thirty years in the field actually
teaches you. If that’s the kind of thing you want in your inbox, come along.

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