Field notes and photographs from slow mornings by the water
Forty minutes, one step. The heron below the old weir has a routine: it arrives just after the mist lifts, takes the same flat stone and waits for the roach to drift into the slack water. Today it struck twice and missed once. I used the long lens from the footbridge and kept the shutter on silent.
The reeds have gone the colour of weak tea. A little egret passed through for three days and then vanished. Light is best between 7 and 8 a.m.; after that the water turns flat and white. Notes on exposure: underexpose by two-thirds of a stop to keep the feathers.
The usual answer is heat: tucking one leg in reduces the surface that loses warmth to the water. But I see it on warm evenings too, so I suspect it is partly just rest. Whatever the reason, it makes for a very still subject and a forgiving shutter speed.
No photograph is worth flushing a bird. If it raises its head and stares at you, you are already too close. Back off, sit down, wait. Most of my keepers come after twenty minutes of doing nothing at all.