Last Frame Before Goodbye — A Barred Owl in the Rain

Some moments in the field stick with you — not because they were easy, but because everything aligned at just the right time.

This was the last image I made on week seven of eight winter owl workshops last week — rain falling, forest turning dark, everyone heading toward the airport in about an hour.

Sony A1 II
Sony 400–800mm at 641mm
ISO 20,000 | f/8 | 1/5,000s

High ISO still makes some photographers nervous, but the reality with modern sensors is this: ISO isn’t the enemy — poor exposure is. In situations like this — low light, rain, an owl moving fast — I make decisions based on freezing motion and preserving detail in-camera, not pulling shadows later at the expense of quality.

I needed 1/5,000s to hold the wings crisp and to render the rain as droplets instead of streaks. f/8 gave me the depth I wanted across the wings. The forest was dark. There was no soft golden light coming from anywhere. Exposure discipline was the tool that kept this frame from being just another passing shot.

Owls in the rain are magical. The air gains texture. The background simplifies. The bird feels like it’s floating in its own world. Nothing about it feels staged. Everything feels real — and earned.

That’s part of what draws me back to winter owl photography year after year. It’s not just about seeing the birds — it’s about being there with them in whatever light and weather they choose to show themselves. You learn to read the conditions. You learn to trust your gear. You learn to trust yourself.

This owl made one solid pass through the forest at just the moment we needed it — and then it was done. A quiet full-stop on a long week in the field.

On Exposure, ISO, and Getting It Right

Some photographers still worry about high ISO numbers.

Here’s the truth I share with every group:

• You can shoot at ISO 20,000 today and get clean, rich images — but only if you expose with intent.

• Underexposure plus heavy shadow recovery is when noise becomes a problem — not because of the ISO number itself.

• Modern mirrorless sensors like the Sony A1 II deliver latitude and detail that reward careful exposure choices in challenging light.

Your histogram should be pushed confidently to the right without clipping critical highlights in feathers. Don’t guess — check. That’s how you capture usable detail in every zone that matters — especially in a dark background and rainy scene like this one.

Why These Moments Matter

Owls don’t perform on cue. They don’t wait for sunrise, perfect wind, or magical light. They are what they are, where they are — and our job is to see them, not force them.

Rain adds depth. Dark woods add mood. High shutter speeds bring out detail. But none of that works if your exposure falls apart.

This frame was not luck. It was knowledge and preparation meeting opportunity.

That’s why I love teaching these workshops — not just showing birds, but showing you what they look like when you get your settings right, when you trust your instincts, and when you stay present in the moment.

Join Me Next Winter

If images like this — real, wild, unpredictable, demanding — are the kind that make you want to keep learning and keep shooting, I’d love to have you out in the field next season.

We’ll be doing it again — rain, snow, dark woods, early light — and every workshop is a chance to grow as a photographer and deepen your confidence with your camera.

The owls will be here next winter.
I hope you will be too.

Rough-legged Hawk in Extreme Cold: Sony Mirrorless Battery Reality at −20 °C

Sony NP-FZ100 Batteries at −20 °C: What Actually Happens in the Field

The Sony NP-FZ100 is one of the better mirrorless batteries I’ve used in cold conditions—but let’s be honest: at around −20 °C, physics always wins.

You will see a noticeable drop in usable capacity once both the battery and the camera body are fully chilled. What matters far more than any spec sheet is how you manage warmth, shooting rhythm, and power-hungry habits in the field.

Setting Expectations

Sony rates lithium-ion packs like the NP-FZ100 for operation roughly between 0 °C and 40–45 °C, and performance falls off rapidly once you head well below freezing. In truly cold conditions, losing half—or more—of your normal runtime is common. If you go out at −20 °C, assuming room-temperature performance, frustration is almost guaranteed.

One Warm Battery, Warm Camera (At First)

When both the camera and battery start warm, the pattern is fairly consistent:

• For the first 10–15 minutes, things often feel “normal.”

• After that, the percentage begins to descend faster than expected.

• Long pauses, menu use, and heavy LCD chimping accelerate that decline as the battery cools between bursts.

• Once the entire body is at ambient temperature, the remaining percentage on the display is more of a rough estimate than a promise—abrupt shutdowns can occur even when the meter still shows some charge.

Cold Camera, Warm Battery

Dropping a warm NP-FZ100 into a camera that has been sitting at −20 °C is a very different experience. The battery is immediately surrounded by a cold magnesium body, cold electronics, and a chilled display, so it cools rapidly and becomes less able to deliver current efficiently. As a result, the apparent capacity drops much faster than when both the camera and the battery are warm—the pack is effectively placed in a small, well-insulated freezer.

This is where cycling batteries become critical. A pack that seems “dead” in the cold will often deliver a surprising number of extra frames once it warms back up in an inside pocket. In practice, that means planning your shooting in bursts: make images while the battery is warm, then let it recover while another one takes its place.

Two Batteries in a Vertical Grip

Running two NP-FZ100 batteries in a vertical grip changes the equation, mostly in your favour. Drawing from two cells shares the load, reducing the instantaneous current each one must supply and helping them cope with the cold more gracefully.

If both packs begin warm, the combination of extra capacity and shared load can feel close to “normal” for a meaningful stretch of time, and you’re less likely to hit a sudden shutdown in the middle of a good moment. Once both packs and the grip fully chill, the same physics still apply: the curve is gentler, but it’s still heading downhill.

Why Using the EVF Helps

On cameras like the Sony α1 II and Sony α9 III, both of which use the NP-FZ100 battery, the EVF typically draws less power than the rear LCD in real-world use. The EVF is physically smaller and doesn’t ramp up brightness as aggressively as the larger LCD, which makes it a more efficient way to compose and review shots—especially when every milliamp counts in the cold.

(EVF vs LCD power differences vary by implementation, but many experienced shooters notice a practical savings using the EVF in cold conditions.)

A Simple Trick That Really Helps

One simple addition that makes a real difference is slipping a chemical hand warmer* into the same inside pocket where you keep your spare batteries. You don’t want direct contact—just shared warmth. That gentle heat helps batteries recover faster between rotations and keeps “resting” packs from dropping all the way down to ambient temperature. During prolonged −20 °C sessions, this can be the difference between a battery that comes back to life and one that stays stubbornly flat.

Practical Cold-Weather Habits

A few simple habits matter more than obsessing over exact shot counts:

• Keep spare batteries inside your jacket or mid-layer, not in an exterior pack pocket.

• Swap batteries before they run completely flat and warm them up before charging later.

• Use the EVF instead of the rear screen when possible, and minimize review time.

• Think in planned shooting bursts, not constant on-off wake cycles.

Which Sony Cameras Use the NP-FZ100?

This applies to Sony full-frame mirrorless cameras using the NP-FZ100, including:

• Sony α1 and α1 II

• Sony α9, α9 III

• Sony α7 III and α7 IV

• Sony α7R III, α7R IV, and α7R V

• Sony α7S III

These cameras cover the bulk of Sony’s current battery-hungry professional bodies.

Where This Post Comes From

This article grew directly out of conversations during my winter owl workshops, where battery performance at −15 to −25 °C becomes a daily, practical concern—not a theoretical one.

Standing in frozen fields at dawn, rotating batteries between gloves and inside pockets, and watching cameras shut down mid-sequence inevitably leads to these discussions. Comparing notes with participants using different Sony bodies—but the same NP-FZ100—has been a great reminder that while shooting styles vary, the cold behaves very consistently.

Your Turn

Real-world experience is more valuable than any lab test.

• How many frames (or minutes of video) are you typically getting from a single NP-FZ100 at around −20 °C when the camera starts warm?

• Have you noticed a clear difference when the camera body itself begins the session already cold?

• If you shoot with a two-battery grip, does it feel like twice as long, or more like a buffer against sudden shutdowns?

• Have you tried rotating batteries with a hand warmer in the pocket—did it noticeably extend usable life for you?

Sharing honest field results from truly cold conditions helps turn winter frustration into something genuinely useful for other Sony shooters who live and work in winter.

*So-called “chemical” hand warmers are not chemical in the sense of containing hazardous substances or producing toxic reactions. They work through a controlled oxidation process (typically, iron powder reacting with oxygen) that safely releases heat. When used as intended—inside a pocket, not in direct contact with bare skin for extended periods—they are widely used, non-toxic, and safe around camera batteries and electronics. Avoid moisture and direct pressure on lithium-ion cells, but shared warmth in a pocket is both effective and well within normal field use.

Dear Bird Photographer: On the Images That Matter More Than Likes

Dear Bird Photographer,

While everyone is filling their feeds with carefully curated “Best of 2025” collections, I wanted to pause and share something a little quieter.

This image—a Red-tailed Hawk in flight—was made during my recent Better than Bosque workshop. No drama. No explosive sky. No once-in-a-lifetime chaos unfolding in the frame. Just a wild bird doing what it has always done, moving effortlessly through clean New Mexico air in honest, early light.

And yet, this photograph represents more than it might appear at first glance.

You know the investment that goes into images like this. The early mornings. The cold hands. The long stretches of waiting. The years spent learning light, behaviour, timing, and restraint. When it finally comes together, the result is often something beautifully simple: sharp, well composed, and true.

But here’s the strange part—we hesitate to celebrate these photographs.

Why?

Because we already know how they’ll land online. They won’t trigger an epic response. They won’t stop thumbs mid-scroll. They don’t shock, exaggerate, or rely on spectacle. And in a world overflowing with astonishingly capable cameras and millions of people making technically solid bird images every day, work like this can start to feel… ordinary.

It isn’t.

Look a little closer.

The wing position is classic red-tail—broad, powerful, unhurried. The light slips gently through the primaries, revealing just enough translucence to show that the sun angle was correct. The warm tones in the tail and upperwing are present but restrained. The head is sharp, the eye alert. There’s space to fly. Nothing is forced. Nothing clipped. Nothing is screaming for attention.

This is the kind of image that comes from understanding birds, respecting light, and trusting patience. It’s what happens when experience quietly does its work.

Social media rewards novelty and extremes. Photography—real photography—rewards consistency, restraint, and the ability to recognize a good moment even when it doesn’t shout.

So here’s my invitation to you.

Instead of asking which image performed best this year, ask yourself which photograph still carries a story only you remember. The cold morning. The quiet drive. The bird you didn’t expect. The moment that made you pause and smile behind the camera. The image that may never go viral, but still feels right every time you return to it.

If you’re inclined, take a moment to revisit that photograph. Recount the story behind it—to yourself, to a friend, or in a few quiet words shared somewhere meaningful. Those are the images that remind us why we show up in the first place.

Sometimes, a simple, honest photograph of a beautiful bird in good light is more than enough.

And sometimes, that’s precisely the point.

—Chris

A Coyote’s Call: A Perfect Ending to the 2025 Better Than Bosque Workshop

There are moments in the field that feel less like photography and more like being quietly invited into another world. This was one of them.

It happened near the very end of our final session of the 2025 Better Than Bosque Workshop, earlier this December. The light was already sliding toward evening, that soft, honey-warm glow that Bosque does so well when the day begins to exhale. We were just starting to think about wrapping things up when this female coyote stepped into view.

She stood tall in the grass, bathed in that last, low sunlight, lifted her head—and called.

Not a quick yip or passing note, but a long, soulful call that carried across the landscape. It stopped all of us in our tracks. Cameras came up, then slowly lowered again. This wasn’t just about the image anymore.

Coyotes are deeply family-oriented animals. They live in tight-knit family groups—often a bonded pair with offspring from one or more years—and cooperation is at the heart of their survival. Both parents help raise and protect the pups, hunt together, and maintain their territory. That bond was on full display here.

She didn’t sound casual. She sounded anxious.

Her calls had urgency, as if she were checking in, making sure her mate knew where home was, where the family waited. We watched and listened in silence, fully aware we were witnessing something intimate and real. There was a collective sense among the group that this was special—one of those rare moments you don’t plan for, can’t script, and never forget.

Then the light finally faded. We stayed a little longer, just soaking it in.

About twenty minutes later—after sunset, when cameras were mostly away—we saw movement again. Her mate appeared in the distance, slowly making his way back toward her… with a noticeable limp. Suddenly, everything made sense. Her concern. The calling. The waiting.

No drama. No spectacle. Just a family reconnecting at the end of the day.

It was a magical way to close out this year’s workshop—quiet, emotional, and deeply grounding. Moments like this are why I keep coming back, year after year. And sharing it with such an incredible group of people—patient, respectful, fully present—was truly the icing on the cake.

Some images stay with you because they’re beautiful. Others stay with you because of what they mean.

This one will stay with me for a long time.

Hooded Merganser with Crawfish at Sunrise – Golden Light Duck Photography at My Better Than Bosque Workshop

There’s something about first light that never gets old. During my Better than Bosque Workshop in early December, we rolled up to one of my favourite little duck ponds—calm, quiet, and absolutely glowing. When the sun finally crests the horizon here, it doesn’t just light up the water; it turns it into molten gold as the golden light reflects off the tall grass on the pond’s edge. On a still morning like this one, the reflections go buttery smooth, and it honestly feels like the ducks are swimming through liquid metal. Magical doesn’t even begin to cover it.

We all got low—really low—because that’s where the magic happens. When your lens is right at the waterline, the perspective shifts, the foreground melts away, and the world becomes a simple band of colour and light. Before long, this handsome male Hooded Merganser slid into frame like a little torpedo wearing a tuxedo. That brilliant white fan on his head lit up beautifully against the warm background, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better… he popped up with breakfast.

Some call it a crawfish, others say crayfish, and if you’re from certain parts of North America, you might insist it’s a crawdad. Whatever name you prefer, this tiny crustacean became the star of the show for a few thrilling seconds as the merganser maneuvered it, tossed it, and did everything short of smiling for the camera. Tiny droplets of water hung in the air like little diamonds while the bird worked to get that spiky snack down the hatch. Watching behaviour like that, in perfect light, on mirror-calm water, with everyone in our group sharing in the excitement—that’s the kind of moment I live for.

Workshops are about learning, yes, but they’re also about joy, discovery, and being present when nature gifts you something special—this morning delivered all of that and more. Golden light, still water, great friends behind cameras, and a merganser doing exactly what mergansers do best… it doesn’t get much better than photographing ducks on liquid gold.

Quiet Gold – American Wigeon in Morning Light

Molten Morning American Wigeon

Beneath a sky of molten gold, he glides, the white-capped drake drifting through silence. I wait—Sony in hand, heart racing— the world narrowing to one perfect frame.

The air is still, the marsh is hushed, no shutter's click to break the spell. The a9 III, a silent witness, holds the emerald glow and the fire of the sun.

For a breath, the wild pauses just for me, the lensman, the birdman, chasing wonder. Then—in the quiet—the moment lives forever, feathers, light, and grandeur captured in time.

© 2025 Christopher Dodds

If the Wood Duck from my last post was all drama, saturated colour, and pure visual fireworks, this handsome American Wigeon was the quieter kind of magic—the kind that sneaks up on you and suddenly has you grinning behind the camera.

There’s something about these moments that I never get tired of. Calm water. Warm light. A cooperative bird just going about its business while I lie there at water level, hoping it’ll give me one more second… then one more after that. This drake Wigeon glided through what looked like liquid gold, every feather perfectly lit and etched in detail, the reflection soft and painterly below him. No chaos. No rush. Just calm, wild beauty right in front of me.

Images like this are why I keep doing what I do. They’re not loud or showy; they’re quiet, elegant, and deeply satisfying. After the bold, theatrical Wood Duck, this Wigeon felt like the perfect follow-up—subtle, refined, and every bit as rewarding.

Wood Duck: When the Fog Lifts and Magic Arrives

Molten Morning Wood Duck

Beneath a sky of molten gold he glides,
a living painting drifting through silence.
I wait—Sony in hand, heart racing—
the world narrowing to one perfect frame.
For a breath, the wild pauses just for me,
the lensman, the birdman, chasing wonder.
Then click—and the moment lives forever,
feathers, light, and gratitude captured in time.

© Christopher Dodds Dec. 2025

There’s a special kind of quiet that settles over the duck pond before sunrise—the kind you feel more than hear. The world is still blue and cold, breath hanging in the air, fingertips reminding you that nature photography isn’t always as glamorous as the finished image suggests. But honestly, I love this part. It’s where the day begins, where anticipation builds, where hope hangs thick in the air. You never truly know what the morning will deliver out here, and that uncertainty is half the magic.

As the first hint of colour creeps across the horizon, the pond slowly wakes up. A thin veil of fog drifts lazily across the surface, lifting and swirling like it has a mind of its own. Shapes begin to form through it—ghostly silhouettes at first—until ducks come to life. Wings stretch, ripples travel across the golden stillness, and the soft sounds of the marsh remind you that the wild world is already moving, even if the sun hasn’t quite arrived.

Then the light finally hits—and not just any light. This is the kind photographers dream about. Soft, golden, warm… it paints everything with a glow that feels almost unreal. The fog lights up, the water turns to liquid gold, and right in the middle of it all, a Wood Duck glides into the frame like he owns the morning. Every feather, every colour, every perfect detail comes alive. And yes—moments like this are exactly why we get up early, embrace the cold, and wait with ridiculous amounts of patience.

Sony in hand, heart racing, everything narrows to one perfect moment. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, nature pauses… just long enough to let you create something unforgettable.

Birds in flight: Mountain Chickadee

Sandia Crest near Albuquerque, New Mexico is the highest point in the Sandia Mountains at 10,678 ft (3,255 m) and, most of the time, it’s windy, cold, and pretty stingy when it comes to rewarding photographers for their suffering—so I rarely take my workshop groups up there. But after wrapping up the workshop, Julie and I had a few extra days around Albuquerque and figured… why not?

To my surprise, I’ve never seen Sandia Crest behave so kindly. Warm, sunny, barely a breeze—it almost felt wrong. A rare, quiet kind of beauty up there.

We did see a few small flocks of Black Rosy-Finches, which is always great, but there really weren’t many strong photo opportunities. Instead of chasing the impossible, I shifted gears and went small-scale, spending time trying to catch a Mountain Chickadee in flight. They’re tiny, fast, unpredictable, and ridiculously fun to try to photograph—exactly the sort of challenge that keeps me smiling behind the camera even when the action is slow.

One of the neat things about Mountain Chickadees is just how tough and clever they are. These little birds live year-round in high elevations and harsh winters, and they survive by caching thousands of seeds and insects in tiny hiding spots—then remembering where they put them. Their remarkable spatial memory is one of the best in the bird world, and that distinctive white eyebrow makes them instantly recognizable, even when they’re zipping around at full speed.

The frame preceding this one was actually even better… but a building crept into the background and spoiled it. Not every outing delivers portfolio images, and that’s OK. Sometimes it’s just about being on the mountain, enjoying the moment, and appreciating whatever nature decides to offer.

Bald Eagle in Flight at Bosque del Apache – One of the Highlights of My Better Than Bosque Photo Workshop

What a way to wrap up a workshop. This Bald Eagle was absolutely the star of our final day at Bosque del Apache NWR in New Mexico during my recent Better Than Bosque Workshop. After that classic Bosque moment—the thunderous blast-off of Snow Geese that fills your chest as much as your viewfinder—we made our way over to the spot where Joe, Nabs, and Sumi had seen an eagle the day before. That’s one of the beautiful parts of workshops like this: a little teamwork, a few good hunches, and a willingness to slow down and simply watch.

So we settled in, let the desert sunrise warm our backs, and waited. The ponds quieted. The excitement softened into anticipation. Then, just when it felt like maybe this bird would fly the wrong way, the eagle lifted from its perch and banked into the light—broad wings catching the sun, powerful, confident, and completely at home. It gave us a full, elegant show, gliding across the scene with the softly blurred Chupadera Mountains providing the perfect clean backdrop. Those subtle pastel tones behind that wild, elemental power… it just doesn’t get much better.

Moments like this are why I love Bosque and why I love sharing it with passionate photographers. You can’t script this stuff. You show up, respect the place, put in the time, and now and then, nature rewards you with something unforgettable. This eagle certainly did.

Female (Hen) Hooded Merganser in Flight

Some birds make you work a little harder than others, and the female Hooded Merganser is definitely one of them. She may not have the flashy crest and bold pattern of the drake, but what she lacks in showiness, she absolutely makes up for in attitude, speed, and unpredictability. And honestly… that’s exactly why I love photographing them.

This image was made during my Better Than Bosque Workshop at the beginning of December, and the morning could not have started any better. The light was gorgeous—rich, warm, and soft—the kind of light that makes you smile before you even press the shutter. The pond was calm, everything was peaceful… and then, as mergansers like to do, she decided she’d had enough of being calm and peaceful. No warning. No gentle build-up. Just: Boom—she’s airborne!

Trying to stay with a Hooded Merganser in flight is always a bit of an adventure. They don’t fly like mallards, and they don’t give you that big lazy arc of a goose. They’re small, fast, twitchy, and seem to enjoy changing direction just as you think you’ve got things lined up. It feels like you’re constantly a half-second behind, willing everything to stay together long enough for autofocus to hang on while you pan and pray the bird doesn’t suddenly dive out of the frame.

This was photographed with the Sony A9 Mark III, 600mm f/4 with the 2X (so 1,200mm), at 1/5,000s, f/8, ISO 2000. That fast shutter was key—there’s a lot of energy in those wings—and the light did the rest. When you get a morning like this, you just try not to mess it up.

What I love most about this frame isn’t just the detail—it’s the feeling. The tension in the wings. The slightly frantic, slightly determined posture. The warm glow wrapping her in that early morning color. It’s a split second of controlled chaos, and that’s exactly what photographing mergansers feels like in real life.

These are the kinds of moments that keep me excited about being out there. You never know when the shot is going to happen. You just try to be ready, pay attention, and enjoy the wild ride when it does.

Wood Duck Portrait in Golden Light — Better Than Bosque Workshop Success

This image of a drake (male) Wood Duck was created on the final morning of my recent Better Than Bosque Workshop, December 9, and it was a fitting way to close out an incredible few days in the field. We had two truly magical mornings at the duck ponds, each greeted with calm water, cooperative birds, and that warm, glowing first light photographers dream about. On this last morning, everything came together once again—still reflections, rich autumn colour in the background, and a confident drake swimming directly into the light. Moments like this are never guaranteed, which makes them all the more special when they happen. Sharing these quiet, golden mornings with a group of passionate, like-minded photographers—and watching everyone come away with strong images and big smiles—is exactly what the Better Than Bosque experience is all about.

Thank you!

Thank you to the wonderful group who made the Better Than Bosque 2025 Workshop such a huge success. Spending time in the field with a group of like-minded, nature-loving photographers truly elevated the entire experience. The camaraderie, shared enthusiasm, and respect for the wildlife and landscapes around us created an atmosphere that was both inspiring and rewarding. Together, we witnessed unforgettable moments, enjoyed incredible light, and came away with not only fantastic images but also great memories from time well spent outdoors.

Thank you to the entire 2025 Better than Bosque Workshop group: Back row, L to R: Joe (Repeat client/friend: Owls, Eagles & Ospreys), John (Repeat client/friend: Puffins), Chris, Jamie (Repeat client/friend: Owls), Jeanine (Repeat client/friend: Bears & Pelee). Front row L to R: Nabs, Sumi, Me (Christopher Dodds), Julie & Joe.

TESTIMONIAL

Participating in Chris Dodds’ Best of Bosque photo tour was an outstanding experience. Chris combines technical expertise, fieldcraft, and a genuine passion for teaching in a way that provides tremendous value. His insights into bird behavior and optimal shooting techniques significantly improved my approach to wildlife photography.

The workshop was well-organized, thoughtfully paced, and designed to maximize photographic opportunities. I left with a portfolio of images I am truly proud of and a much deeper understanding of the craft. Highly recommended for anyone looking to take their wildlife photography to the next level.

Chris Fryou Louisiana, USA

See a couple of Chris’ images below: Drake Mallard in flight and Snow Geese Silhouette images copyright and courtesy Chris Fryou.

Thanks, Chris. It was hard to pick two favourites from the dozen you sent.

Wildlife Photography in Katmai: How Subtle Backlight Transformed a Brown Bear Cub Portrait

One thing Katmai never fails to teach—no matter how many years I spend guiding workshops —is the value of patience and respect. We don't chase photographs there; we wait for them. We stay seated, calm, and predictable so the bears can go about their lives without a second thought about us. And it's often in that stillness that the most intimate moments appear.

This young brown bear cub had been exploring and moving away from its mother, carrying that wonderful mix of caution and curiosity you only see in bears discovering the world for the first time. The light that afternoon wasn't dramatic or golden—it was clean, soft, and just bright enough to create a gentle backlit edge on the cub's wet fur. Subtle light like this is often my favourite to work with. It doesn't shout drama; it whispers intimacy.

Because we remain seated when bears come close, I couldn't reposition or search for a "better angle." Instead, I embraced the one I had. That limitation—ironically—can be a gift. When you can't move, you start paying closer attention to small shifts: the direction of the bear's gaze, the texture in the coat, the separation between subject and background. You begin crafting the image with what the bear offers you, not what you wish you had.

Technically, I stayed in manual mode, as I always do. It gives me complete control over how the mid-tones fall and how much detail I keep in those fur highlights. With a lightly backlit subject, I exposed carefully to retain the texture of the wet fur. The light wasn't dramatic, but it had shape—and that's what makes an intimate portrait possible.

What I hope participants take home from My Ultimate Brown Bears of Katmai Workshop is this: intimacy comes from respect, patience, and working with the conditions you're given. You don't always get spectacular light or dramatic behaviour. But when you stay present, grounded, and ready, even a quiet moment with a curious cub can become a portrait that stays with you long after you leave Alaska's rugged coast.

If you’re looking to strengthen your wildlife photography, refine your use of natural light, and work closely with bears in a respectful and ethical setting, consider joining my next Ultimate Brown Bears of Katmai workshop. Only two spaces remain, and they won’t last long.

OFF TOPIC: STREET PHOTOGRAPHY Distant Gaze

Every now and then, street photography hands you a moment you never actually set out to capture—it just unfolds in front of you. This frame was one of those chance encounters, grabbed from the hip while wandering through Old Montreal on October 31.

The rain had slicked the cobblestones, and that soft, gray, late-October light gave everything a quiet, muted mood. Amid the cars rolling by and the faint streaks of falling rain, she was perfectly still—half tucked into the shadows, eyes somewhere far beyond the street. It wasn’t about the direction of her gaze, but the feeling of absence behind it, as if she was standing in two places at once.

Shot in the wide, cinematic X-pan aspect ratio, the scene stretches out just enough to let you breathe in the atmosphere. The extended frame gives the moment space—space to wonder, space to imagine, space to linger in whatever story might be unfolding just outside the edges.

It’s one of those images that offers more questions than answers, a reminder of how powerful the quiet, ambiguous corners of everyday life can be. Sometimes the most compelling photos are the ones that simply let us look, pause, and drift for a moment.

First Snowy Owl of the Season: A Winter Encounter to Remember

Still out exploring, riding the post-bunting excitement from my last post (Ghosts of the Snow: The Return of the Snow Buntings), a pale shape in a snowy field made me slow down. At first, I thought I was imagining it — my eyes strained by the glare — but then it moved. Sitting out in the open was a nearly pure-white male Snowy Owl, sitting on the fresh blanket of snow.

I eased the car forward and let it act as my hide. With my Sony a1 Mark II and the 600mm f/4 with 1.4X in hand, I slowly raised the camera out the window. The owl didn’t seem bothered at all — he sat tall, calm, and beautifully relaxed, watching the landscape as if he owned it.

For the next 40 minutes, he barely shifted. Snow drifted around him, the light softened, and the afternoon slowly faded toward evening. To see Snow Buntings and a Snowy Owl on the same day — and during the first real snow of the season — felt like an incredible gift.

One interesting thing about Snowy Owls: they don’t migrate south because of the cold. They are well-suited for Arctic winters. Instead, they move south when their summer food source — mainly lemmings — becomes scarce. A drop in prey can send these big white owls wandering far beyond their usual range, sometimes thousands of kilometres.

As dusk settled in, I backed away and left him exactly where I found him. No guarantees he’ll stay — these birds follow their own rules, and the males often get chased off by the larger females — but fingers crossed he hangs around for the winter.

If you’d like the chance to experience moments like this, I still have a few spaces left in my Winter Owl Workshops this January and February. No guarantees, of course, but with the way this season has begun, it could be a truly special year.

“I recently participated in my second trip with Christopher Dodds to find and photograph the beautiful snowy owls. It was an amazing experience. Not only was Christopher able to find these owls due to his extensive experience and knowledge of the owl’s behavior but I expanded my skills in capturing stunning birds in flight photography. Not only did we see and photograph snowy owls but also short-eared owls, harriers, a screech owl and some absolutely stunning early morning photos of a barred owl hunting along the snow-covered ground. Christophers’ knowledge of how to photograph these magnificent birds honed over decades of wildlife photography was well worth the cost for my second trip. Chris was able to assist me in the optimal settings for my Canon gear. Very worthwhile!”

— Wayne Ferch | Oregon |USA

Brown Bear Fishing: Face to Face in the Wild

Face to Face with a Brown Bear — An Unforgettable Moment in the Wild

There are moments in wildlife photography that remind you exactly why you do this — why you wake before dawn, brave the elements, and wait for hours in silence.

I was out in the field with my workshop group, cameras ready, the cool morning mist hanging low over the landscape. Suddenly, out of the stillness, this magnificent brown bear came charging — not at us, but directly toward us, powerful and focused, every muscle in motion.

For a brief second, time seemed to slow. The bear’s eyes locked ahead, paws thundering across the water, droplets flying in every direction. The adrenaline surged through all of us — an exhilarating and humbling reminder that we were witnessing raw nature in its purest form.

In reality, the bear wasn’t charging at us at all — it was chasing a salmon cutting through the shallows just in front of us. What looked like a dramatic head-on rush was actually a perfectly timed hunting move, a burst of precision and power honed by instinct. Watching that unfold at such close range was both breathtaking and unforgettable.

Our position was safe, our guide experienced, and the bear continued on its way after its brief pursuit — a reminder that we were merely visitors in its world.

Moments like these stay with you forever. They teach respect — not just for the animals, but for the wild spaces they inhabit and the delicate balance that allows encounters like this to happen safely and ethically.

This image captures just a fraction of what it felt like to be there — the power, energy, and sheer presence of one of nature’s most incredible creatures. It reminds me that in wildlife photography, the best moments aren’t just about the shot — they’re about connection, respect, and the shared experience of being truly alive in the wild.

Join Me in the Field

If experiences like this ignite your sense of adventure, consider joining one of my upcoming brown bear photography workshops. Together, we’ll spend time in the heart of bear country — capturing unforgettable moments, learning about behaviour, technique, and ethical field practices, and building a portfolio of powerful images.

There are only two spots left for both my June and September 2026 Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska Adventure workshops — so if you’ve ever dreamed of photographing brown bears up close (safely and respectfully), now’s the time to make it happen.

📸 Learn more and reserve your spot here: https://www.chrisdoddsphoto.com/bear-boat-coastal-brown-bears-of-alaska

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More Kudos

“Thank you for another amazing workshop (Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska)! Although this was my fifth trip with you, it was the ultimate workshop for me, as I had dreamt about it for years. This adventure was truly above and beyond my wildest dreams! Every aspect of this trip was perfect, and made it a life-changing experience for me. Thank you for the incredible organization and guidance (before and during the trip). Like always, I felt confident that you would make sure we were safe, happy and learning tons! There is no doubt that the level of planning and dedication toward ensuring the best trips for your clients is bar none. I came back with my head full of great memories and a hard drive overflowing with beautiful pictures of those gorgeous Brown Bears.”

- Louise Bertrand Québec │ Canada

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ProFusion Expo 2025 — What an Incredible Experience! 🇨🇦📸

ProFusion Expo in Toronto was an absolute blast! All of my presentations were standing-room-only — thank you to everyone who came out, asked questions, and shared so much great energy. It’s always inspiring to connect with such a passionate community of photographers, filmmakers, and creators.

This year marked my 11th consecutive year presenting and 9th year representing Sony, and it was amazing to see how the event continues to grow and evolve. The conversations, creativity, and sense of community are what make ProFusion so special.

A huge thanks to the entire @ProFusionExpo @Vistek @SonyCanada teams for another fantastic show, and to my friends Rafa Reyes, Matthew Oakes, and Matt Gabrie for capturing and sharing some great moments of me in action — you guys rock! 🙌

Until next time, Toronto — keep creating, keep inspiring, and see you again in 2026!

A Bumper Crop of Cubs Coming Soon: Alaska’s Brown Bears and the Incredible Salmon Run

A dripping wet Coastal Brown Bear watches a salmon that escaped her lunge! This year’s September Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska Workshop was absolutely unforgettable. We witnessed one of the strongest salmon runs in decades, and it showed — the rivers were boiling with fish, and the bears were feasting like royalty.

Everywhere we turned, the bears were massive, healthy, and focused on fattening up for winter. With so much food available, the mothers will head into their dens well-prepared — and that means we can likely expect a bumper crop of cubs emerging next June!

Coastal Brown Bears (Ursus arctos gyas) depend heavily on salmon to build the fat reserves that carry them through hibernation. When salmon runs are strong, females have more energy to conceive and raise multiple cubs — and their chances of survival skyrocket. Cubs are actually born in the den in midwinter, usually around January or February, and don’t make their first public appearance until late spring.

It’s a powerful reminder that healthy salmon runs ripple through the entire ecosystem. Those nutrients brought upstream by spawning salmon feed everything from bears to eagles — even the forests themselves. This year’s abundance of fish doesn’t just feed today’s bears; it helps shape the next generation of Alaska’s magnificent brown bears.

If you’ve ever dreamed of photographing mothers and cubs in the wild, now’s your chance! My Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska: Mothers and Cubs Edition runs June 12–19, 2026, and there are only two spots left. Join me for an unforgettable week of wildlife, wilderness, and world-class bear photography in the heart of Alaska.

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OFF TOPIC…

Oil Slick. Kodiak Harbour, Kodiak, Alaska.

Sometimes the best images are the ones you stumble upon while simply paying attention. This oil slick was photographed during a slow walk around Kodiak Harbour in Kodiak, Alaska, before my Ultimate Bears of Alaska Workshop — a day spent chatting with local fishermen, meeting their dogs and crews, and taking in the quiet beauty of working boats and weathered docks, while seeking images of the fishermen whose weathered faces so often tell the tale of a life well lived and a living hard-earned. It’s a reminder that taking the time to look closely usually reveals moments of colour, texture, and reflection hiding in plain sight — even on an overcast, grey day.

Join Me in Toronto at ProFusion Expo 2025! 🇨🇦📸

Join Me in Toronto at ProFusion Expo, November 5 & 6, 2025! 🇨🇦📸
I’m honoured to be presenting again, marking my 11th consecutive year presenting at the show and my 9th year representing Sony!

ProFusion Expo is Canada’s largest photo and video event, and after a decade of success, it’s the must-attend gathering for photographers, videographers and content creators at every level. Whether you’re a seasoned pro, a passionate enthusiast, or an emerging creator — this is your chance to learn, connect and be inspired.

🎤 Event Dates & Hours:
📅 Wednesday, November 5, 2025 — 12:00 in the Sony Booth & 15:30 on the Main Stage.
📅 Thursday, November 6, 2025 — 11:30 on the Main Stage & 13:00 in the Sony Booth.

Don’t miss my free seminar, where I’ll share insights from my imaging journey and you’ll have the opportunity to ask questions and say hello in person.

👉 Register now for free and be sure to stop by & say hello! — I’d love to see you there!

Full-Frame Merlin: Birds-in-Flight Photography Adventure in Cypress Hills, Alberta.

We were deep into an extended cross-Canada road trip, winding our way through the remote backroads near the Alberta–Saskatchewan border, heading toward Cypress Hills Provincial Park. Julie (my wife) and I had been on the lookout for raptors all morning, slowly cruising along, scanning fenceposts and treetops for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, Julie pointed out the window on my side of the RV and shouted, “Raptor!”

Adrenaline kicked in. My heart pounded as I hit the brakes and threw the RV into reverse, hoping—really hoping—that the bird hadn’t flown off. There it was: perched perfectly on a weathered fencepost, a Merlin, calmly surveying its surroundings. It had clearly just finished a meal—there were still furry leftovers clinging to its talons.

I maneuvered carefully to get the RV into the best position for a full-frame shot. And just as I started snapping, the rumble of an approaching tractor trailer echoed down the road. A massive truck hauling cows thundered past us, shaking the RV and dusting the scene with gravel.

But the Merlin didn’t budge.

We spent nearly ten magical minutes with that bird, capturing an incredible sequence of close-up images. The soft, diffused overcast light, the setting, the subject—it all came together in one of those rare moments that makes birding (and photography) so rewarding.

This one sighting made the whole day unforgettable. And the photos? Let’s just say they’re smile-worthy.

Brown Bear Cub of the Year Showing Off Freshly Caught Huge Salmon

Why This COY (Cub of the Year) Stole the Show – And Why You Should Join Us Next Time

If you've been following my recent posts, you've probably seen this little star already — this year’s COY (Cub of the Year) from my Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska Workshop. And if you're considering joining a future trip, this moment is a perfect example of what makes these workshops so unforgettable.

During one of our incredible outings, this young bear proudly showed off a freshly caught salmon, right in front of our group. It was as if the cub was performing just for us — a rare and thrilling display that had every camera firing.

The image you see here was captured full-frame using my Sony a1 II with the ultra-versatile Sony 400–800mm zoom lens at 584mm. This setup allowed me to isolate the moment cleanly, even from a safe distance — and our participants captured equally impressive shots with their own gear.

Beyond the technical side, it’s these kinds of intimate, once-in-a-lifetime wildlife encounters that define the Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska experience. You’ll have front-row access to wild behaviour, personalized instruction in the field, and the opportunity to hone your skills in one of the most photogenic locations on the planet.

Thinking about joining us on the next adventure? This COY — and many unforgettable moments like this — are waiting.

More Kudos

“I honestly can’t thank you enough for all the work you put into the Katmai trip. I loved it and so appreciate knowing that when I commit to going with you, I know you offer a high-level experience and care to pass on your incredible knowledge of photography. Brown Bears in Alaska was my third trip with you, Puffins and Gannets previously. Each trip, I have returned nourished by nature, richer for the experience, and learned more about photography. Thank you for your hard work during the trip to stay on top of all the variables and make good decisions for your clients’ enjoyment and good pictures.”

- Sarah MacDonald, British Columbia | Canada

I'm proud to have my photo of a Prothonotary Warbler featured on the cover of This May Be The Year by Canadian poet Carole Giangrande.

This thoughtful collection explores both the beauty and the challenges of our world. Through poems about birds, seasons, memory, and loss, Giangrande finds moments of hope and wonder — even in the most difficult times. Her writing is honest, gentle, and deeply connected to nature.

These poems reflect the uncertainty many of us feel today, but also remind us of the comfort we can find in the natural world. It’s a moving and timely book, and I’m honoured that my image is part of it.

Prothonotary warbler (Protonotaria citrea, Pauline orangée, PROW) from mySONGBIRDS OF PELEE WORKSHOP at Point Pelee National Park of Canada in Leamington, Ontario, Canada ©Christopher Dodds All Rights Reserved. Sony Alpha a9 III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 20,000, f/8 @ 1/5,000s Manual exposure.

Coastal Brown Bear Cub Catches Salmon | Tight 800mm horizontal with Splashing Water

There are moments in the field when instinct takes over. One of those moments happened recently as I watched a Coastal Brown Grizzly Bear COY (Cub of the year) playing by the water's edge, tossing around a freshly caught salmon during my recently concluded Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska Workshop. Glaucous-winged Gulls lined the water’s edge, circled and called in the background, hoping for scraps, but I locked my focus on the bear—and had the feeling that something was about to happen while trying to keep the distracting gulls out of the image.

Sure enough, the bear cub suddenly stood up, salmon still in its mouth. Without thinking twice, I zoomed all the way to 800mm with the new Sony 400-800mm lens on the Sony a1 II and framed a tight, horizontal head-and-shoulders composition. It was a split-second decision, but the kind that comes from time in the field—watching, waiting, and knowing when and how to make images with visual impact. The bear's posture, the glint in its eye, the fish in its mouth and claws extended with the trailing water for dramatic effect—it all lined up in an image full of drama.

At this time of year, the rivers are teeming with salmon as they return to spawn. It's a feast for the bears, who gorge on these fish to build fat reserves for the winter. But many of the salmon are reaching the end of their lives—scarred, discoloured, and barely holding together after completing their incredible journey upstream. They may not be the pristine, silver fish we imagine, but in their worn-out state, they're arguably even more beautiful—symbols of endurance and the cycle of life.

While adult bears waste no time tearing into their meal, the cubs approach things with a bit more curiosity (and comedy). Watching young brown bears figure out what to do with a slippery salmon is pure entertainment. They chase them, chew the wrong end, toss them in the air, and sometimes forget why they were holding them in the first place. But every awkward step is practice for the future—and fun to witness through the lens.

Wildlife photography is about patience, timing, and the ability to react when instinct says "now." That brief moment when the bear stood tall with its ragged prize was one of those times—and one I won't forget anytime soon.

Coastal Brown Grizzly Bear Cub Bunny Hop

Earlier this month, while leading my Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska workshop, I had the privilege of witnessing one of those unforgettable moments that remind you just how exceptional wildlife photography can be.

We were sitting quietly along the river's edge, giving the bears plenty of space and observing respectfully, when a curious Coastal Brown Bear cub took a keen interest in us. It was fascinating to watch as it cautiously crept a little closer—eyes wide—clearly trying to figure out what we were.

Just a few metres away, Mom was observing the situation with a mix of patience and purpose. She kept a close eye on her cub while simultaneously teaching it a vital life lesson: curiosity is fine—but know your limits. When she gave a subtle signal (a soft huff), the cub instantly responded and scampered back to her side. It was a beautiful display of both natural behaviour and strong maternal instinct.

I managed to capture a few frames of that moment using the Sony 50–150mm at 148mm, shooting vertically to emphasize the cub's upright posture and attentiveness.

Did You Know?

One little-known fact about brown bear behaviour is that cubs often learn by mimicking their mother's every move—from how to fish, to how to interact with other bears, and even how to assess potential threats (like humans). These lessons are learned through observation, subtle communication, and, at times, gentle correction. It's an incredible process to witness in the wild.

Moments like these serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of observing wildlife ethically and with care. When we respect their space, we are often rewarded with authentic glimpses into their world.

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Off the Trail: Stories from Jr. of Kodiak Harbour

Sometimes, the most memorable encounters during a wildlife photography trip don't involve wildlife at all—but the people you meet along the way.

While wandering through the working harbour of Kodiak, Alaska, I met a character I won't soon forget: Jr.

From the moment we crossed paths on the deck of a well-worn fishing vessel, it was clear that Jr. had seen a thing or two. He gave me a quick once-over, then, with a half-smile and a pointed finger, offered a firm, gruff warning: "Just don't point that camera at me." Fair enough.

But as it turns out, Jr. wasn't camera-shy—just particular. As we got talking, he relaxed, and what followed was nearly an hour of rich, animated storytelling. He told me about every bear he'd ever seen near his home at the southern end of Kodiak Island, recounting encounters in vivid detail—some hair-raising, some oddly funny, and all deeply personal.

His voice rose and fell with the rhythm of the ocean, and the stories flowed like the tide. In that moment, Jr. wasn't just a fisherman on a break—he was a storyteller, a steward of local lore, and someone who clearly carried deep respect for the wild places around him.

While he spoke, I carefully moved around the deck, framing a few quiet portraits as he stood in front of the coiled fishing net near the stern. I was drawn to the circular pattern in the orange fishing floats beside him—a visual echo of the rhythm in his storytelling. It added a beautiful compositional element to the scene, and the resulting images feel less like posed portraits and more like moments borrowed from real life.

After the stories wound down, I thanked Jr. for the time, the conversation, and the unexpected glimpse into Kodiak life beyond the trail. As I stepped off the boat and back onto the dock, I offered one last nod: "Calm seas and full nets, my friend."

Behind the Frame:

These off-the-cuff portraits are some of my favourites—not just for the composition, but for the experience that led to them. Photography, after all, isn't always about chasing subjects. Sometimes, it's about listening long enough for a story to reveal itself.

Proud Catch, Perfect Frame: Coastal Brown Grizzly Bear with Fresh Salmon

There are moments in wildlife photography when you can't help but feel a connection with your subject—a sense that they're almost performing for you. I'm convinced that sometimes, just sometimes, bears know when they've landed a prize, and they absolutely show it off. It's in the way they shake a freshly caught salmon, eyes glancing towards yours, like a playful puppy proud of its favourite toy.

For a split second, I almost regretted my gear setup—shooting with the Sony a1 II and the 400-800mm lens, vertically framed at the full 800mm focal length. The action happened so fast, I was sure I'd clip the salmon's tail right out of the frame. But that's the thrill of it, isn't it? Being ready for anything, anticipating the moment, and trusting your instincts to compose in-camera rather than relying on massive crops later.

This coastal brown bear, salmon dripping in mid-shake, gave me that moment. Every water droplet, every scale, frozen in a tight vertical frame that tells the whole story: a successful hunt, and a proud—maybe even theatrical—display.

Here's to those fleeting encounters that remind us why we wait, why we prepare, and why we keep coming back for more.

More Kudos

“Thank you for an amazing trip (Sept. 2025 Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska). The preparation and years of experience made my investment a life-changing event.  I have dreamt of doing a trip like this and always worry that what is marketed on a website is what you will actually experience.  Every single piece of this trip was perfect.  I can’t imagine how much work you put into every big moment and every single small moment that added up.  I have already told so many people about my trip and told them they would have nothing to worry about if they booked with you.  Look forward to seeing you on some of your upcoming trips.  Puffins are on my shortlist!

Thank you very much for being so professional and a great guide and mentor.”

Mike McGugan Ontario | Canada