Snowy Owl Photography: Hidden in Plain Sight

I could see the Snowy Owl. Getting everyone else to see it took what felt like five minutes.

We were driving up a country road when I pointed it out to my group. It had been a cold start. The sky was clear after fresh snow the day before, but the wind was blowing the dry powder into drifts.

The owl was sitting behind one of those small drifts. Even with directions, nobody else could pick it out at first. Snowy Owls can blend into a snow-covered field remarkably well.

Those yellow eyes make it easy to find in this photograph. Spotting it from the road was another matter.

A Low Angle and Blowing Snow

Once everyone could see the owl, we worked on our photographs.

We got low, using the small drift to create a soft, out-of-focus white foreground. The dry snow blowing across it diffused the view further, making the owl’s lower body disappear into the white.

The snow that had helped conceal the owl became an important part of the photograph.

It is worth looking at what is between you and your subject, as well as what is behind it. A change in camera height can make a considerable difference. Here, getting low allowed us to use the drift to simplify the foreground and draw attention to the owl’s face.

Cold wind and blowing snow aren’t always comfortable to work in, but they can give us opportunities we wouldn’t have on a calm day.

Learning in the Field

Finding an owl is the first step. Deciding how to photograph it comes next.

During my winter owl photography workshops in Québec and Ontario, I help participants work through those decisions as opportunities arise. Sometimes the question is about exposing for white feathers against snow. Sometimes it is autofocus or choosing a shutter speed that will leave you ready if the bird takes flight. And sometimes, as here, getting lower makes the difference.

With more than forty years of wildlife photography experience, I have plenty to share. Ask questions, tell me what you are struggling with, and let me help you work through it while we are in the field.

We work on portraits as well as flight photography. While we are watching for action, there may already be a photograph worth making.

Ethical Winter Owl Photography

We photograph wild owls without baiting, feeding, calling or luring them. We respect their space, observe their behaviour and work with the opportunities they give us.

Every encounter is different. I cannot guarantee a particular species or photograph, but I do guarantee that I will work hard to find our subjects and help you make the most of your time with them.

What Participants Say

“…he also spared no effort to maximise our photo opportunities - both in terms of weather conditions, lighting, angles, backdrop etc…” Read Jonathan’s full testimonial.

— Jonathan Mercer, UK — Winter Owl Workshop participant

Snowy Owl Photography Workshop Openings — February 2027

I have openings for February 8–12 and February 15–19, 2027, in my winter owl photography workshops in Québec and Ontario.

Photographers of all experience levels and all camera brands are welcome. If you would like help with exposure, autofocus, flight photography or making better use of the conditions in front of you, join me for a week in the field.

Bring your questions and your warm clothes!

View the Winter Owl Photography Workshop itinerary, pricing and registration details.

Bald Eagle Reflection Pool

I had something else planned for this morning, but recently reprocessed this Bald Eagle photograph and felt it suited the day.

A little time at the reflection pool.

I made this image in Alaska in February 2005, on a day when conditions were too rough and stormy to get out in a boat. The photograph might suggest a quiet pond, but after a lot of winter rain, water had pooled on the ice covering a broken asphalt parking lot. The eagle had stopped for a drink.

I used my SUV as a blind.

More than twenty years later, I still love the shape of those folded wings above the lowered head, with the reflection repeating it below. The eye remains visible, and the bill almost meets its reflection at the surface.

The setting certainly wasn’t beautiful. From my position, though, the water and ice hid the broken asphalt. There’s a useful composition lesson there: pay attention to what you can see through the viewfinder. An unpromising location can still give you a beautiful background.

Including the reflection makes this photograph for me. Without it, I’d have a much tighter study of an eagle drinking. With it, the shape of the whole bird becomes the subject.

I made the image at 260mm, ISO 400, f/7.1 and 1/250 second.

We couldn’t get out on the water that day, but there was still something worth photographing. I’m glad I kept looking.

And this morning, I’m glad I went back to this one.

Have you made a favourite photograph on a day when the weather changed your plans? I’d love to hear the story in the comments.

Join me in the field on one of my wildlife photography workshops and photo tours.

Snowy Owl Photography: Why I Left the Space Behind the Bird

Give a bird room to look into the frame. It’s one of the first composition tips we learn in bird photography, and I teach it myself. It usually works.

With this Snowy Owl, I prefer the space behind the bird.

My last post featured a high-key, black-and-white Snowy Owl photograph, with no colour or shadows. In this image, the warm light, blue snow and long shadow are a large part of why the composition works for me.

The owl sits on the right, looking towards the nearest edge, with its shadow stretching left across the snow. Placing the bird farther left would give it more room to look into, but leave less room for the shadow.

That shadow needs somewhere to go.

I like the weight it gives the left side of the frame and the way it connects the owl to the field. The low sun catches the face and feather markings, while the shaded snow takes on blue tones. Little ridges catch warm light across the surface. A tighter composition would sacrifice those details.

When I look at this image, I see the owl and its shadow together. Both needed room.

There is a compromise. The owl’s gaze draws my eye towards the right edge, and I would normally leave more space in that direction. Someone else might find the arrangement uncomfortable. I can understand that.

For me, there is enough room between the face and the edge, and enough happening elsewhere to hold the photograph together. The bird feels settled into the snow. Its shadow spreads across the open space behind it. I keep coming back to the warmth of the plumage against those cool winter colours.

Try covering the left side of the photograph with your hand. You still have a lovely owl in beautiful light, but you lose the length of the shadow and much of the sense of space. That is why I would keep this framing.

After more than 40 years of photographing wildlife, I still find this a useful exercise when reviewing my own work: what would I actually gain by cropping, and what would I lose?

Making the subject larger can be tempting, especially when there is fine feather detail to show. But the empty-looking parts of a photograph deserve a closer look before we cut them away. Here, the snow carries colour, texture and the owl’s shadow. It contributes enough that I want to keep it.

The direction of the head matters, too. A bird can turn to look over its shoulder without moving its body, changing the balance of the whole image. A turn towards the shorter side of the frame doesn’t automatically spoil the composition. I judge it by what I see in the complete picture.

In the field, it is worth making a few wider compositions before reaching for more focal length. Look beyond the bird. Check where its shadow falls, how the light crosses the ground and whether those elements deserve space of their own. You can crop later; you cannot recover a shadow you left outside the frame.

Leaving room in front of a bird is still good advice. Understanding why you might choose otherwise is part of learning to compose.

For this photograph, I would miss the shadow far more than I miss the extra room on the right.

If you would like to work on exposure, composition and photographing owls in winter light, join me for an Ethical Winter Owl Photography Workshop in Québec and Ontario. We work through these decisions in the field as opportunities unfold, with the welfare of the owls always coming first. No baiting, feeding, luring, calling or disturbing the owls.

Snowy Owl in Black and White: Revisiting a January Encounter

Joe Norton recently referred a couple of friends to my winter owl photography workshops. Nearly four years after his January 2023 trip, he is still sending friends my way. That means a great deal to me. Thank you, Joe!

His referral sent me back to the testimonial he wrote after his workshop, and to a few photographs I made during his trip that I had saved for black-and-white treatment.

This Snowy Owl was one of them. The scene had very little colour, and its nictitating membrane covered its eyes at the instant of exposure. What held my attention was the sweep of the wings, the fanned tail and the intricate dark markings on those white feathers.

I had always intended to return to this frame. In this black-and-white version, I also removed some vegetation sticking out of the snow. I like how parts of the owl almost disappear, while the dark feather markings hold everything together.

For the exposure, I started with f/4 for the depth of field I wanted and 1/5,000 second to stop the action. I then metered off the white snow and adjusted the ISO until the meter read +1⅔ stops. That gave me ISO 5,000, with the snow properly exposed as white. This image was made at 600mm.

White birds against snow can fool a camera’s meter. Knowing where to place that white is something I teach in the field, along with watching the bird and being ready before the action starts.

This passage from Joe’s testimonial brought back good memories:

“He spent all his time with us locating Owls, coaching us, helping us with our equipment and camera settings”

— Joe Norton, USA
January 23–27, 2023 Winter Owl Workshop

Joe’s full account describes his experience far better than I could. Please take a moment to read his testimonial and see the Snowy Owl photographs he made during our week together.

The owls’ welfare comes first on every trip. We don’t bait, feed, call or flush them for photographs. We spend our days finding birds, watching their behaviour and working with the opportunities they give us.

I still have availability in February 2027 for my Winter Owl Photography Workshops. If you have been thinking about joining me, I would love to spend a week helping you make your own Snowy Owl photographs.

Least Auklet: The World’s Smallest Auklet on Saint Paul Island

There is nothing in this photograph to provide a sense of scale. Enlarged on a screen, this Least Auklet could easily pass for a much bigger seabird.

In front of me on Saint Paul Island, it was scarcely larger than a sparrow.

At about 15 centimetres (six inches) long and weighing roughly 86 grams (three ounces), the Least Auklet is the smallest member of the auk family. Its relatives include puffins, murres, guillemots and razorbills.

A tiny seabird with plenty of character

Least Auklets spend most of their lives at sea in the North Pacific and Bering Sea, returning to remote rocky islands to breed.

This bird stood upright on an exposed rock long enough for me to make a clean portrait. The simple background and full side profile show the details that can easily be missed when these tiny birds are moving through the rocks: the pale eye, reddish-orange bill, white plume behind the eye and heavily mottled breast.

The amount of white and dark spotting on the underparts varies considerably from one Least Auklet to another. Some are almost white below, while others are much darker than this bird.

Least Auklets on Saint Paul Island

Least Auklets nest inside cracks and crevices among the boulders and broken volcanic rock of Saint Paul Island. They do not build a conventional nest. A single egg is laid on bare rock, soil or pebbles inside the protected cavity.

They feed at sea by diving for tiny marine crustaceans, primarily copepods, along with krill and other small invertebrates. Productive currents and upwellings concentrate that food around the Pribilof Islands.

The Least Auklet may not have the immediate star appeal of a Horned or Tufted Puffin, but spending time with one changes that quickly. There is an extraordinary amount of detail packed into a bird weighing only three ounces.

Photographing the world’s smallest auklet at 1,200mm

For me, the successful photograph was not about action. It was simply a matter of waiting for one bird to stand alone on the right rock, with a clean background and a head position that showed the eye, bill and facial plume.

I used a 600mm lens with a 2X teleconverter for a focal length of 1,200mm. That reach filled the frame with this tiny bird while the distant background dissolved into a soft wash of colour.

My exposure was ISO 6,400, f/8 at 1/5,000s. The fast shutter speed preserved the fine feather detail and eliminated any movement from the bird.

That brief opportunity produced one of my favourite portraits from Saint Paul Island.

Photograph Least Auklets on Saint Paul Island

Join me on Saint Paul Island to photograph Least, Crested and Parakeet Auklets, Horned and Tufted Puffins, Red-faced Cormorants, Red-legged Kittiwakes, Northern Fur Seals, Arctic Foxes and the many other species that gather on this remote island in the Bering Sea.

My July 1–8, 2027 Saint Paul Island Wildlife Photography Workshop has only one place remaining. The July 2–9, 2028 workshop has also been announced.

Can Northern Fur Seals Smell? A Close Encounter on Saint Paul Island

While we were photographing Northern Fur Seals from one of the observation blinds on Saint Paul Island, this seal stopped, raised its muzzle and sampled the air.

I’m fairly sure the wind had carried our scent.

The specially constructed blinds allow us to watch and photograph the seals without walking among them or disturbing the rookery. They conceal us remarkably well, but they don’t stop the wind from giving us away.

Can Northern Fur Seals smell?

Yes. Northern Fur Seals have a well-developed sense of smell, although hearing and vision are usually more obvious to anyone watching them around a busy rookery.

Studies of fur seals and other pinnipeds suggest that scent plays a role in recognizing individuals and gathering information about nearby animals. On a crowded breeding colony filled with movement, noise and thousands of seals, every available sense has value.

Looking at this photograph without knowing what happened, it would be easy to interpret the lifted muzzle, open mouth and visible teeth as aggression.

It wasn’t.

The seal remained calm as it tested the air, trying to locate the unfamiliar scent that had reached it. I had enough time to recognize what it was doing and make a few photographs before it carried on.

Photographing Northern Fur Seals on Saint Paul Island

Access to Northern Fur Seal rookeries is strictly controlled. On Saint Paul Island, we photograph from authorized observation blinds positioned to provide excellent views while keeping people out of the colony.

That controlled access is essential. A disturbed seal can rush into the rookery and cause panic among nearby animals, placing small pups at risk.

The blinds also give us the chance to watch natural behaviour unfold. There are territorial males, females returning from the sea, nursing pups, young seals playing and individuals resting only a short distance away. Sometimes the most interesting photograph comes from a small gesture, such as a seal pausing to investigate a scent on the wind.

Saint Paul Island is one of very few places where visiting photographers can reliably photograph wild Northern Fur Seals at an active rookery from purpose-built observation blinds.

What the photograph does not tell you

A still photograph removes everything that happened immediately before and after the shutter was released.

This seal was not challenging me or reacting aggressively. It was scenting the air, and our position in the blind happened to be upwind.

Knowing what I was watching made all the difference. Instead of concentrating only on the open mouth and visible teeth, I waited for the raised muzzle and direct head position that best described the behaviour.

Join me on Saint Paul Island

If photographing Northern Fur Seals from these observation blinds—along with Tufted and Horned Puffins, Crested Auklets, Red-faced Cormorants, Arctic Foxes and the rest of Saint Paul Island’s remarkable wildlife—sounds like your kind of trip, join me for seven full days of photography in the Pribilof Islands.

My July 1–8, 2027 Saint Paul Island Wildlife Photography Workshop has only one place remaining. The July 2–9, 2028 workshop has also been announced.

Saint Paul Island Wildlife Photography Workshop

Reflections from Kuliak Bay: Brown Bear Photography in Katmai

Low tide meant a predawn hike into Kuliak Bay in Katmai National Park. We followed a bear trail through frost-dusted vegetation, watching the first rays of sunlight illuminate the mountain peaks around us. Above the still-shadowed coast, the summits began to glow. It is an incredibly beautiful walk, and one I always look forward to.

That morning, I reflected on how fortunate I am to keep returning to this wild stretch of Alaska’s coast. After more than forty years behind the lens, I still get excited about heading out before dawn, wondering what the day might bring.

We can prepare carefully, draw on years of experience and put ourselves in promising places, but Mother Nature has the final say.

Late September on the Katmai Coast

Late September has usually given me the best opportunities to photograph the biggest coastal brown bears, looking magnificent after a summer of feeding on rich, oily salmon. We are usually among the very last people on the Katmai Coast, and it is a moment I look forward to every year.

This year, however, was an exception. There were fewer fish and bears than on previous visits. Usually, at this time of year, the stream banks are littered with partially eaten salmon, with bears seemingly around every bend. This September stood in stark contrast.

Finding photographic opportunities required more searching, more waiting and the willingness to work with whatever unfolded.

I have hopes for every trip, too. Returning to a place I know and love brings memories of extraordinary encounters and the anticipation of seeing them again. But experience can only guide us. It cannot tell the salmon when to arrive or the bears where to be.

Mother Nature’s Consolation Prizes

Then there are moments like this.

This coastal brown bear was clamming on the exposed tidal flats at first light. As it moved along the water’s edge, its reflection stretched below it, surrounded by soft greens and golds. I love the strength in its stride and the scene’s quiet feel.

If this is one of Mother Nature’s consolation prizes, I’ll happily accept it.

The photograph you hoped to make may never happen, while another opportunity becomes one of your favourites. Being there, watching carefully and staying ready gives you the chance to recognize it when it comes.

This trip brought some amazing adventures and incredible moments. This image is one I am particularly happy to have brought home. Looking at it takes me straight back to Kuliak Bay—to the frost along the bear trail and the first light on the mountains as we walked in.