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
