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.

Say’s Phoebe in Flight in Golden Light: A Golden New Mexico Welcome

After the long RV drive from Montreal down to New Mexico, Julie and I were more than ready to finally get out, breathe, and enjoy some real light again. We arrived a few days early ahead of my sold-out Better Than Bosque Workshop, using the extra time to scout all the best locations before greeting the participants when the workshop kicks off on December 5. And New Mexico wasted no time reminding us why this place is so special.

This beautiful Say’s Phoebe floated in and gave us the perfect welcome on November 29, 2025. The bird hovered right in front of us in that incredible New Mexico evening glow—soft golden light, a light breeze, and a clean background that looked like it was designed for this shot. After days on the road, it felt like the universe was tossing us a little reward.

Say’s Phoebes are one of those birds that don’t scream for attention, but once you spend a moment with them, you appreciate their quiet elegance. Soft warm tones, calm personality, and that classic flycatcher hunting style—launching out, grabbing insects mid-air, and drifting back like it’s nothing. They’re right at home in open country, ranchlands, and desert edges, which makes New Mexico prime territory for them.

This simple, beautiful encounter was exactly what I needed after all the miles. Sometimes you step out of the RV, and the shot just finds you.

Say’s Phoebe in Flight in Golden Light (Sayornis saya, Moucherolle à ventre roux, Mosquero llanero, SAPH) Photographed on November 29, 2025, while scouting for my Better than Bosque workshop. Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 Mark III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm ISO 3,200, f/8 @ 1/6,400s. Full frame image. Manual exposure.

Snowy Owl Activity Rises Across North America: A Promising Winter Ahead for Owl Photography Workshops

Here’s another recent frame of the male Snowy Owl I found earlier this month in the fresh snow — snow that’s now mostly gone. When I saw him, he was half-tucked into the snow, looking as relaxed as a bird can be in a November wind. What really caught my attention, though, was what had his attention: a Rough-legged Hawk perched on a lone tree nearly a kilometre away.

Watching the Dialogue Between Two Arctic Hunters

I love interactions like this — subtle, quiet, nothing dramatic, but full of meaning if you watch closely. Snowy Owls and Rough-legged Hawks share the same winter spaces and, at times, the same menu. Both are Arctic hunters that drift south when food gets tight up north. They aren’t competing in any dramatic way; they’re simply reading each other the way predators do. A shift in posture, a slight tightening of feathers, a long stare — it’s a silent language that’s been passed down through generations.

At one point, the hawk shuffled its wings, and the owl narrowed his eyes just a touch. That was the whole interaction, but it said plenty. These tiny moments are why I love photographing in winter — the landscape is quieter, and the stories stand out.

The Owl That Forgot I Existed

And the best part? He wasn’t paying any attention to me at all. That’s always my favourite thing — when the bird forgets I’m there and I get to watch real behaviour, not reactions to my presence.

A fun bit of trivia while we’re here: Rough-legged Hawks are one of the only hawk species with feathers right down to their toes — just like Snowy Owls.

Strong Early-Winter Snowy Owl Numbers

New Snowy Owl sightings continue to indicate a strong winter ahead. In Chicago, there were two confirmed at Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary.

And what’s more, the wider pattern this winter is looking really good: Snowy Owls aren’t just turning up in Chicago. There are at least four around MSP Airport in Minnesota, and dozens across Wisconsin — with the DNR reporting 84 so far. Up into Alberta, birders are seeing Snowies spread throughout more open country than usual. When Snowies show up early and in numbers like this across their winter range, it’s a strong signal that this could be a very good season.

Looking Ahead

With a bit of luck, this male will stick around. He’s already given me more than a few memorable moments, and winter hasn’t even settled in properly yet.

If you want a chance at encounters like this, I still have a few openings left in my Winter Owl Workshops this January and February. No guarantees, of course — nature decides what we see — but the way things are unfolding, it could be a very special year.

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

Ghosts of the Snow: The Return of the Snow Buntings

Winter has arrived in Québec much earlier than in recent years, and with it came one of my favourite sights of the season — the first flocks of Snow Buntings swirling through a surprise snowstorm. Julie and I were out exploring the countryside when we spotted them: hundreds of small white birds flashing in unison above the fields, rising and settling like drifting snowflakes come to life.

There’s something almost supernatural about these birds. The imagery of white birds on snow or frost‐covered ground gives them a kind of ghost-bird quality in folklore — fleeting, ethereal, and perfectly at home in the storm. Because the Snow Bunting appears often only in cold, snowy fields or shortly after storms, it has long been seen as a harbinger of winter and cold weather, a living symbol of the frozen north returning for another season.

And this winter seems determined to make an entrance. Alongside the buntings, reports are already coming in of Snowy Owls in Québec and pushing far south — some as distant as Nebraska and Illinois. Other recent reports indicate a large number of snowy owls in Kansas, suggesting a winter irruption is occurring across North America; this could be an incredible year for owl sightings across eastern Canada and the northern United States.

For me, photographing a Snow Bunting in flight amid falling snow feels like capturing the essence of winter itself — fragile, fierce, and fleeting all at once.

If you’d like to experience this magic for yourself, I still have a few remaining spots open for my Winter Owls Workshops this January and February. Join me in the field and witness these arctic wanderers up close — from the ghostly buntings to the majestic Snowy Owls that follow them south.

👉 Reserve your spot now — and let’s chase winter’s light together. CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP!

“ I couldn’t have asked for a better experience while participating in one of Chris Dodds’ Snowy Owl workshop in February 2025. Chris is a photographer’s photographer! His meticulous field preparation and expert understanding of owl behavior and natural habitats are unmatched. While in the field, Chris is always on hand, offering tailored advice on camera settings, lens choices, and technical matters —no matter what gear you’re using. His approachable nature and years of guiding photographers to hidden, exceptional wildlife hotspots make his workshops stand out, ensuring an unforgettable experience that goes above and beyond what most photographers have encountered.”

— Wink Gaines | North Carolina | USA | www.winkgainesphoto.com

Portrait on the Edge: Photographing a Horned Puffin in Alaska’s Mist

There’s something about sitting on the edge of a cliff in Alaska that rearranges your sense of scale. The ocean below breathes in slow, deep rhythms as waves roll in. Fog drifts in and out, and the world feels pared down to sound, salt, and stillness. It can be incredibly quiet — almost entirely free of artificial sound.

That’s where I was — legs hanging over the edge, camera in hand — when a Horned Puffin landed on a ledge just a few meters away. No fanfare, no warning. One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was, standing calm and alert, perfectly at home in the damp, gray air.

I froze, not out of fear of spooking it, but out of awe and respect. Puffins always look a little improbable — that bold colourful bill and those crisp black-and-white feathers, like something painted too brightly for the subdued northern palette. Yet here, in the mist, it fit. The colours softened, the edges blurred, and it became part of the landscape rather than decoration upon it.

What struck me most was the light — that soft, ethereal kind of light that only shows up on overcast days—the type of light that I love. It’s a gift, really—no harsh shadows, no blown highlights. The mist acted like the world’s biggest diffuser, wrapping the scene in a kind of even softness. Every fine line of the puffin’s plumage was visible, every subtle shift of tone across its feathers. The black wasn’t just black; it had depth, warmth, and texture.

The bird didn’t seem bothered by me at all. I moved slowly, barely breathing, taking a few careful frames. It preened a little, looked toward the open water, then settled again, entirely at ease. That kind of trust — or maybe just mutual stillness — is something I never take for granted. You can’t make it happen; you have to be quiet and still long enough for wildness to stop seeing you as a threat.

When the puffin finally lifted off, disappearing into the fog like a thought half-remembered, I realized I hadn’t checked my camera once. The images would be there, sure, but the moment itself — the sound of waves below, the smell of sea and moss, that shared calm — that’s what stays with me.

It’s funny how sometimes the most satisfying photographs are the ones that almost don’t feel like photographs at all. They feel like thank-you notes to the world for letting you in for a minute — and for reminding you how small and lucky you are.

Sunset Shilouette @65X24 Jackfish Lake, Dinowic, Ontario, Canada

Off Topic – Jackfish Lake, Ontario
As the sun dipped below the horizon at Jackfish Lake, near Dinowic, Ontario, the world turned to quiet silhouettes and warm orange light. Julie and I had pulled over on a whim during the last leg of our cross-country RV trip, drawn by the glow on the water. Standing there, watching the colours fade, we were reminded how much beauty hides in the spaces between destinations. It’s so easy to chase the miles and miss the moments—but evenings like this make slowing down feel like the real journey.

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 

Back from Alaska: Brown Bears, Big Moments, and One Adorable Little Rock Star

After 24 hours of travel, I’m finally home—shaking off the jet lag, but still completely immersed in the wild, breathtaking beauty of Alaska. I’ve just returned from leading my Ultimate Brown Bears of Alaska Workshop, and all I can say is… wow. What an experience.

We were incredibly lucky with the weather on the Katmai Coast. While it rained during our travel days in and out, we had just a couple of brief sprinkles during our eight full days in the field. For coastal Alaska, that’s nothing short of miraculous!

The group this year was absolutely wonderful—curious, adventurous, supportive of one another, and full of great energy. And my crew? Truly exceptional. Captain Angus kept us safe and steady at sea. Ruben expertly handled the skiff—getting us out to the bears and back to the ship safely—while keeping everyone entertained throughout. Joan worked culinary magic from dawn to dusk, and James was a tremendous help assisting our legendary bear guide and long-time friend, Brad Josephs. As always, Brad’s deep knowledge of both the bears and the landscape kept us safe and made every encounter more meaningful.

And the bears? They exceeded every expectation. Bigger, bolder, and more photogenic than ever. I came home with memory cards absolutely overflowing—intimate moments, golden light, misty mornings, and scenes that looked like they were highlights from a wildlife documentary.

But among all those moments, there was one tiny rock star who stole the show—and our hearts.

Meet this little “COY” (Cub of the Year)—a playful, curious, and slightly clumsy bundle of energy. Watching this cub explore the world was pure joy. Every tumble, head tilt, and wide-eyed stare reminded us of just how magical and fragile these early moments of life in the wild can be. It’s encounters like this that keep me coming back to Alaska year after year.

I captured this image with the Sony a1 II mirrorless body paired with the phenomenal Sony 300mm f/2.8 lens. The combination delivered stunning clarity and detail, allowing me to freeze a perfect moment that still makes me smile.

There are so many more stories and images to share—from quiet bear interactions to epic landscapes and the beautiful chaos of life on the Katmai Coast—but for now, I’ll leave you with this first favourite.

Stay tuned—more bears (and bear stories!) coming soon.

Coastal Brown (Grizzly) Bear Cub of the Year Shaking (Ursus arctos, ours brun) from my Ultimate Coastal Brown Bears of Katmai adventure workshop in Alaska. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony Alpha 1 Mark II Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 300mm f/2.8 GM OSS lens. ISO 1,600, f/2.8 @ 1/5,000s Manual exposure.

Louise, Chris Dodds, Jos, Kristy, Sarah, Mike, Janice, David and James. Image courtesy of Brad Josephs (Thanks, Brad).

How I Captured a White-winged Crossbill Portrait: Eye-Level Bird Photography with a High-Key Background

Before photographing the White-winged Crossbill framed by soft yellow buttercups during my Deluxe Atlantic Puffin Workshops (featured in an earlier blog post), I had an unexpected and fleeting opportunity to create something even more intimate—a clean headshot of the bird perched quietly on a signpost.

White-winged Crossbills are usually restless, so when this one sat still—relaxed, elevated, and unbothered—I knew I had a rare chance. Rather than go wide, I went close, focusing on the fine feather detail, the distinctive crossed bill, and that soft, alert eye. I also made a point to get slightly below eye level—a minor adjustment that goes a long way toward creating a more intimate and engaging portrait.

The signpost itself wasn't ideal visually (dark green, with a "Do Not Disturb the Nesting Birds" message), but the overcast sky above provided the perfect high-key background. I used the soft, even overcast light to isolate the subject, allowing its subtle tones and textures to stand out without distraction.

Sometimes the best portraits don't come from hours of waiting—they appear in a blink, if you're ready and paying attention to the details.

👉 See how the rest of the encounter unfolded:

A Rare Treat: White-winged Crossbill on L’île aux Perroquets

White-winged Crossbill (Loxia leucoptera, Bec-croisé bifascié, Piquituerto aliblanco, WWCR) from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 400-800mm f/6.3-8 G OSS Lens @500mm ISO 40,000, f/8 @ 1/5,000s. Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Capturing the Majesty: Photographing a Bald Eagle Portrait

Photographing a bald eagle—especially a close-up portrait—is one of the most rewarding and humbling experiences in wildlife photography. These birds command respect not just for their beauty, but for the power, intelligence, and intensity they project with a single glance. But getting that glance—a direct stare into the lens—is easier said than done.

This image shows the eagle's eye razor-sharp, the curve of the beak crisp, and—most importantly—a look straight into the camera. That kind of eye contact is rare; eagles don't often engage the lens like that. So, how did it come together?

Patience: The First Essential Ingredient

The first—and often most challenging—part of photographing wildlife, especially something as alert and aware as a bald eagle, is waiting. You need to have patience to let the bird get accustomed to your presence and become comfortable enough to act naturally. In this case, I spent a significant amount of time simply observing from a distance, making sure the eagle didn't feel threatened or pressured.

The key is to blend into the environment and avoid sudden movements. Let the bird dictate the pace.

Field Craft Matters

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that swinging around a big white telephoto lens is the fastest way to end an encounter; you might as well wave a flag and shoo them away.

Field craft—moving slowly, using natural cover, and, where possible, setting up in advance—is essential. The goal is to make yourself part of the landscape, not a disruption to it. Using a lens with enough reach to fill the frame without stressing the subject is another key to success.

Keeping the bird at ease meant I could wait for the exact moment I was hoping for: that rare, intense, and powerful stare directly into the camera.

Technical Note: Why f/20?

In portraiture—whether of people or wildlife—the eyes must be sharp. It's where we connect, where emotion lives. For this shot, I stopped down to f/22. That might sound extreme to some, especially in low-light situations, but it was a deliberate choice.

At super-telephoto focal lengths, depth of field is razor-thin. The closer you focus, the narrower the depth of field becomes. I didn't want the beak to be sharp but the eye soft—or vice versa. Stopping down to f/20 ensured that both the eye and bill were tack sharp, creating a sense of presence and clarity that wider apertures wouldn't deliver.

Final Thoughts

I created this image through a combination of patience, thoughtful field craft, and technical discipline. But more than anything, it came from respect—for the subject, the environment, and the process.

Photographing a bald eagle isn't just about taking a picture. It's about telling a story without words, capturing a moment that reminds us why these birds inspire so deeply.

If you're lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, do everything you can to be ready—but also remember to observe. Study their behaviour, be alert to their signals, and freeze the moment they show any sign of stress. Sometimes the best part of wildlife photography isn't the shutter click. It's the moment before, when a wild creature meets your gaze and offers you a glimpse into its world.

American Bald Eagle Portrait (Hailiaeetus leucocephalus, Pygarge a tete blanche, Pigargo americano BAEA) from my Ultimate Coastal Brown Bears of Katmai adventure workshop in Alaska. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 400-800mm f/6.3-8 G OSS Lens @800mm ISO 6,400, f/22 @ 1/640s. Manual exposure. Full frame image.

The Art of Waiting: A Lesson from Photographing Atlantic Puffins with pleasing backgrounds

One of the ongoing challenges I face while leading my Deluxe Atlantic Puffin photography workshops is helping participants understand a simple but powerful concept: waiting for the right moment often beats settling for a bad shot.

When puffins finally appear and perch out in the open, it's incredibly tempting to start clicking away. After all, we've come a long way to see them, and there they are—right in front of us. The instinct is to fill memory cards with images of these charismatic birds, even if the lighting is poor or the background is cluttered with dirt, rocks, and vegetation.

But here's the thing: just because a shot is available doesn't mean it's worth taking.

Personally, I'd rather take far fewer photos if it means waiting for the right opportunity—the one where the composition, lighting, and background all come together. Instead of shooting puffins in deep shadow against a distracting near background, I look for a different angle. I position myself along the cliff, where I can shoot with a more distant background. Often, this means a dreamy wash of out-of-focus buttercups and soft greens—something that adds beauty and atmosphere to the image rather than pulling focus away from the subject.

This approach requires patience and restraint—two traits not always easy to practice in the excitement of seeing puffins up close. But when that magical moment happens and everything aligns, the results speak for themselves.

Great wildlife photography isn't just about the subject—it's about telling a story through light, background, and timing. And sometimes, the best story is the one you wait for.

Atlantic Puffin Foggy Buttercups (Fratercula arctica, Macareux moine, Frailecillo atlántico, ATPU) from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds.. Sony a1 Mark II Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 10,000, f/8 @ 1/5,000s Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Savannah Sparrows in Flight – A Bonus from the Deluxe Atlantic Puffin Workshop

While the main attraction of my Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Galore Workshops on Île aux Perroquets in Quebec earlier this month was, of course, the puffins, there's always something more to enjoy—and this year, the Savannah Sparrows delivered again.

These small, energetic songbirds are always present in the grassy areas of the island, but this time their numbers were spectacularly high, making them hard to ignore. That abundance gave us a fantastic opportunity to try photographing them in flight—their erratic, fast-moving behaviour making it a real test of patience and timing.

I created this image with my Sony 600mm lens and a 2× teleconverter on the Sony a9 Mark III. We had positioned ourselves with the light behind us, but what made the shot truly shine was a dash of serendipity—this sparrow just happened to fly in precisely the right direction. Sometimes everything aligns—smile!

Fun, little-known highlight: Savannah Sparrows in this area may even have their own distinctive regional song dialects, with subtle variations in trills and call patterns that differ between populations—even those as close as Île aux Perroquets.

The 2026 Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Galore (and So Much More!) Workshops are already filling quickly. Don't miss your chance to live the dream adventure on a tiny lighthouse island, surrounded by puffins, razorbills, murres—and so many more birds, including our ever-charming Savannah Sparrows

Yet another testimonial:

"Christopher Dodds’ Atlantic Puffin photography workshop is a truly exceptional experience for any wildlife or nature photographer. The setting is amazing, providing endless opportunities to capture Puffins both in flight and up close in varying scenery and lighting, resulting in an incredible portfolio of images. Chris’s deep knowledge of Puffin behavior and photography, combined with his patient, individualized instruction, helps photographers of all skill levels achieve their best work. The workshop is thoughtfully organized, and Chris always ensures participants are in the perfect spot at the right time for optimal lighting and action. Accommodations are very comfortable, the meals are amazing, and the venue lends itself to fun camaraderie among participants. I left the workshop with not only a drive full of images that exceeded my expectations, but also new skills and unforgettable memories. Highly recommended to anyone looking to improve their wildlife photography and experience these wonderful birds up close." - Joe Pizzuto New York| NY Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Aug. 2025

Savannah Sparrow in flight (Passerculus sandwichensis, Bruant des prés, Chingolo sabanero, SASP)  from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 Mark III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 4,000, f/8 @ 1/6,400s Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Razorbills, Puffins, and the Magic of L’Île aux Perroquets — 2025 Workshop Wrap-Up

Razorbills, Puffins, and the Magic of L’Île aux Perroquets — 2025 Workshop Wrap-Up

There's a special kind of magic that happens on L’Île aux Perroquets — a tiny, windswept island off the coast of Quebec, where seabirds soar above the Gulf of St. Lawrence and every corner hums with wild beauty.

As we wrapped up our 2025 Deluxe Atlantic Puffin Workshops, one moment stood out in particular: a Razorbill slicing through the air, a glimmering fish clamped tightly in its beak. With powerful, purposeful wingbeats, it returned to its burrow hidden among the rocks — where a hungry chick waited for dinner. It's these small, fleeting encounters that stay with us long after we've left the island.

Razorbills, though often overshadowed by their more famous cousins, the Atlantic Puffins, are just as captivating. They're expert divers, capable of reaching depths of over 100 meters in search of prey. Monogamous and fiercely devoted, these birds return each year to the same breeding grounds — and often the same mate — to raise their single chick.

L’Île aux Perroquets is one of the rare places in Quebec where you can witness this intimate part of their life cycle up close. Alongside the Razorbills, we shared the island with thousands of Puffins, Common Murres, and the occasional curious Gray Seal or passing Minke Whale (We saw 25 different individuals — including a couple of calves — in a single afternoon). The biodiversity here is astounding, and every day offered new sights, sounds, and stories.

Our home for the workshops — the beautifully restored lighthouse keeper's house — offered cozy accommodations, warm meals, and a front-row seat to one of North America's most unique seabird colonies. As always, it was a dream setting for photography, learning, and meaningful connection with nature.

Looking back at the smiling faces in our final group photo, it's clear: this place leaves a mark. Whether it was the thrill of capturing the perfect in-flight shot, watching Puffins clumsily land in the grass, or soaking in the island's serenity under the midnight sun, everyone left with full memory cards and fuller hearts.

Until next time, L’Île aux Perroquets — merci for another unforgettable experience. Adieu!

Razorbill Flying with fish (Alca torda, Petit Pingouin, Alca común, RAZO) from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a1 Mark II Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 1,000, f/8 @ 1/5,000s Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Group 1: Bob, Susan, John, Monica, Cindy, Gail and Joe. Missing is Dr. Vic, who had to leave early to make his clinic.

Group 2: Lisa, Denise, Don, Susan, Ellen, Jack, Bill, Hugh and Denise

Group 3: Alan, Anne, Kathy, Scott, Tim, Kathy, Dick and Mark.

Group 4: Paula, Fran, Todd, Michele, Pat & Anita

Group 5: Randi, France, Maya, and that is Captain Arnold getting us safely back to shore.

The Shot I Didn’t Plan For: A Black-bellied Plover on L’Île aux Perroquets

While we were working on photographing the fast and unpredictable Bank and Tree Swallows during one of my Atlantic Puffins Deluxe Workshops, I was hoping to finally get that elusive shot I've had in my head for years—an image of a Bank Swallow suspended in flight against a backdrop of vivid yellow wildflowers. As anyone who's tried will tell you, these swallows are small, fast, and downright frustrating to photograph in flight. I came close (again), but it wasn't quite the shot.

Then, in a welcome twist, a Black-bellied Plover came gliding across the island in a low, direct flight. Its steady, purposeful path made it a much more cooperative subject. I quickly swung my setup around—shooting with the Sony a9 Mark III and Sony 600mm f/4, paired with the 2x teleconverter to give me 1,200mm of reach—and managed to grab a clean sequence of frames as it crossed in front of me. Everything aligned just right, and I came away with an image I'm genuinely proud of.

I've only seen a handful of Black-bellied Plovers over the decades while hosting these workshops on L’Île aux Perroquets, which makes this encounter even more special. These plovers breed in the Arctic tundra and migrate thousands of kilometres to spend the winter along coastlines throughout the Americas and beyond. L’Île aux Perroquets isn't part of their breeding range, but it sits right along a migratory corridor—so now and then, one stops in to rest or refuel. It's a rare treat.

This moment was a great reminder that in wildlife photography, you don't always get the image you came for—but if you stay patient, observant, and ready, you might get something even better.

Black-bellied Plover over sea of yellow wildflowers (Pluvialis squatarola, Pluvier argenté, Chorlito gris, BBPL)  from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 Mark III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 2,000, f/8 @ 1/6,400s Manual exposure. Full frame image.

MORE KUDOS

“I have never participated in a photography workshop before, and this turned out to be truly awesome! I am still digesting the experience and processing images....I want to thank you for a wonderful experience, all around on Ile Aux Perroquetes. It was so nice to meet you and hear your stories of how you came to be the experienced photographer you are and be privy to your experience of how to better photograph the Puffins + on the island. Thank you for the camera setting recommendations and pointers throughout our stay. I am still practicing tracking the swallows! I came home with some wonderful images and memories of the tranquility of the island while photographing. Being amidst the Puffins for three days was icing on the cake.  I am enamored with them. Thank you!” - Michele Kirk New Jersey | USA Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Galore Aug. 2025

Photographing a Merlin on Île aux Perroquets During a Puffin Photography Workshop

A Flash of Feathers: The Unexpected Merlin on Île aux Perroquets

While leading my Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Galore photography workshops on Île aux Perroquets, I was expecting the usual cast of characters: charming puffins, also known as the clowns of the sea, Common Murres and Razorbills calling from the cliffs, and the rhythmic pulse of the Gulf of the Saint Lawrence setting the scene. The weather was overcast—perfectly diffused light for bringing out feather detail and subtle colour—but the atmosphere had that still, charged feeling, like nature was holding its breath.

We were focused on the puffins, as always, when it happened.

Out of nowhere, a streak of motion tore across the sky—a Merlin. Compact and powerful, this small falcon shot through our field of view like a feathered missile, clocking what must have been near its top speed of 98 km/h. I barely had time to register the shape before instinct kicked in—I raised my Sony A9 III, already fitted with the incredibly versatile 400–800mm zoom, and quickly zoomed in to around 750mm to fill the frame.

It was the briefest of encounters—less than a minute—but pure electricity. The Merlin darted in low and fast, and although it posed no real threat to puffins (its preferred prey are smaller songbirds), the effect was immediate and dramatic. Puffins erupted off the cliffs in all directions, driven by instinct and the unmistakable silhouette of a falcon. Puffins and Razorbills filled the air; a sudden storm of wings and circling seabirds.

I tracked the Merlin through the chaos, relying on the blazing-fast autofocus and high frame rate of the A9 III to catch fleeting moments before it veered off and disappeared toward another island. Just like that, it was over.

This is precisely why I always teach to shoot manual exposure with a fast enough shutter speed to freeze motion. Nature doesn't send alerts for its most extraordinary performances. The unexpected is often where the magic happens, and being technically ready is what turns surprise encounters into winning images.

Every time I'm in the field, I'm reminded that preparation is half the battle. The other half is being present—and lucky enough—to witness something wild. On Île aux Perroquets that day, the Merlin gave us less than 60 seconds. But it was 60 seconds I'll never forget—and thanks to experience and preparation, I have the images to prove it.

Merlin (Falco columbarius, Faucon émerillon, Esmerejón, MERL) from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony A9 Mark III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 400-800mm f/6.3-8 G OSS Lens @750mm ISO 6,400, f/8 @ 1/5,000s. Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Savannah Sparrow Juvenile Portrait on Red

During a recent Deluxe Atlantic Puffin Workshop, I was wandering around checking our options for last light when a juvenile Savannah Sparrow landed incredibly close—at the minimum focusing distance of my Sony 600mm lens, which also had a 2X teleconverter attached. The out-of-focus boathouse created a striking, out-of-focus red background, giving this unique portrait a warm glow as the sparrow bathed in the golden light.

More Kudos

Chris - Thank you for an amazing trip. Your knowledge, experience and willingness to share it all made this an adventure we will treasure forever. With gratitude, Don & Sharon Gabrielson, Minnesota | USA Deluxe Atlantic Puffins Galore Aug. 2025

Savannah Sparrow Juvenile Portrait on Red (Passerculus sandwichensis, Bruant des prés, Chingolo sabanero, SASP)  from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a9 Mark III Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 2,000, f/8 @ 1/5,000s Manual exposure. Full frame image.

Semipalmated Plover on Seaweed in Light Fog

Although the overall number of shorebirds seen year to year during my five back-to-back Deluxe Atlantic Puffin Workshops continues to decline, we had some fantastic encounters for those willing to pry themselves away from the puffin action. This Semipalmated plover was in a small mixed flock with a couple of white-rumped sandpipers. We lowered our cameras and enjoyed the colourful seaweed at low tide.

The Semipalmated plover (Charadrius semipalmatus) is a fascinating shorebird known for its unique appearance and behaviour. Its name comes from the partial webbing, or "semi-palmations," between its toes, which helps it navigate soft mud and sand. These birds are long-distance migrants, travelling thousands of miles from their Arctic breeding grounds to their wintering habitats along the coasts of North and South America. Unlike some shorebirds that probe the mud for food, semipalmated plovers are visual foragers. They employ a "run-stop-peck" hunting strategy, darting forward to snatch insects, crustaceans, and marine worms they spot on the surface.

Semipalmated Plover on seaweed in light fog (Charadrius semipalmatus, Pluvier semipalmé, Chorlitejo semipalmeado, SEPL) from my Deluxe Puffins Galore Workshop, Mingan Archipelago National Park Reserve, Quebec, Canada. Image Copyright ©Christopher Dodds. Sony a1 Mark II Mirrorless camera & Sony FE 600mm f/4 G Master OSS Lens with Sony FE 2X Teleconverter @1,200mm. ISO 2,000, f/8 @ 1/6,400s Manual exposure. Full frame image.