Lying in a mud hole, looking up at a white rhino snuffling just inches from my camera, I was having a tough time not giggling or wetting my pants. I might have been a little nervous, but mostly, it was the thrill and the absurdity of it. To be this close to a massive rhinoceros with no remote gear—just me and my camera—was a dream.
No guidance counsellor in any high school anywhere would have suggested this as a viable career choice 35 years ago, but here I was.
I had spent the previous evening photographing wildfires spreading across the savannah, the rhinos silhouetted against the flames, leaping orange and red in scenes of terrible beauty, again thinking, “How in the world is this my life?”
Not long before that, I’d been stripping my pants off in the Land Cruiser to squash the bullet ants that I’d clumsily walked through in the darkness, and which were now biting me with a ferocity I hadn’t felt since standing (again, accidentally) on a colony of fire ants in the Peruvian Amazon. At least I now only have one leg for them to bite.
Nothing ever goes as I thought it would. I end a day on safari thinking, “Well, that was unexpected!” I also feel like a day on safari is its own lifetime. At the end of each day, I look back at photographs I’m downloading and think, “That was today?” The encounters are endless and never anticipated.
Early in this journey, I got a text message from a Kenyan photographer I’ve admired for a couple of years. His name is Gurcharan Roopra (find him on Instagram @gurcharan), and he reached out to tell me he was reading one of my books and was thrilled to find I was following him on Instagram. “Following you?” I wrote back, “I’m practically stalking you!” And from this random moment of connection came 24 hours together at the end of my trip, learning from someone with a very different approach to his work than I have, but a similar spirit. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so creatively challenged. Totally unexpected.
There’s no real lesson in this letter to you. Just a reminder that the zigs and zags of life are part of the joy. Even the most well-planned days are full of the unexpected. That can send us into a tailspin, or it can make us wonder and laugh. I hope it’s the latter for you (though without the bullet ants).
I also wanted to give you a chance to see some of the photographs from this recent trip, perhaps share the wonder. Every trip I wonder if I’ll come back with anything that is even close to how I feel about the places, and the animals, and I’m so thrilled to be returning with what I think is some of my strongest work yet. Click on any of the images to see them larger.
One of my favourite images from this trip is the one above. Two southern white rhinos watch the flames of a wildfire approaching, destroying their home. There’s a story here that’s hard not to feel deep down. Well-told stories can do that—they can touch us in deep places. Not every photograph needs to tell a story, but it’s often the most powerful ones that do.
How are your storytelling chops? I’m giving a presentation on this very topic on March 19 at 4:00 pm PT / 7:00 pm ET, and I’d love to see you there.
My class, Photographic Storytelling: Hooking the Heart & The Imagination, is one of four great presentations hosted by Nic Stover’s Nature Photography Classes. You can find more information here.
Other presenters include Margaret Soraya, Talor Stone, and Sapna Reddy, and they all look fantastic. Cost is $22 each, or you can subscribe to the series for $77. The first presentation is on March 01, so I’ve missed that one, but if you subscribe you can watch the video for any of the series that you miss.
More information can be found here at NaturePhotographyClasses.com.
For the Love of the Photograph,
David.
Comments
What an incredible journey you’ve described—full of raw beauty, unexpected challenges, and moments that truly touch the soul. Your storytelling brings us right alongside you in the mud hole, staring up at the rhino, feeling the awe and absurdity of it all. The way you capture the emotions of the wildfires and the resilience of the rhinos is deeply moving. It’s a powerful reminder of how much life’s “zigs and zags,” as you beautifully put it, can shape and inspire us.
Your connection with Gurcharan and the creative spark it ignited is such a testament to the serendipity of life and art. Thank you for sharing not just your stunning work but also the behind-the-scenes moments that make it all so real and relatable. Looking forward to seeing more of your storytelling magic in your upcoming presentation—it sounds like an unmissable session!
Great stuff David. Thanks for sharing. Jason turned me on to you through Wild Eye, and I’m glad he did. How did you like Mwangaza?
Best, Andy
Great stuff David. Thanks for sharing. Jason turned me on to you through Wild Eye, and I’m glad he did. How did you like Mwangaza?
Best, Andy
So glad I popped over here from the email–these are stunning. I found myself murmuring “oh, wow” out loud (risking waking a sleeping baby, no less!) when I saw the first set of silhouettes, and then the silhouettes with the fires as well. Somehow they manage to be both cohesive and individual–a set, but each image strong enough to stand alone. Thank you for sharing these images. With the ever-increasing presence of AI (and ever less clarity on where the line is between something that has the appearance of a camera, but is really just AI, versus something that is powerful camera, but a camera all the same), you have managed to show us something Real, with all its story and drama and power.
Thank you, Shannon. That means a lot to me. You make a good point about AI – the more it proliferates the more we’re going to long for something real. I live for that – the real moments, the real experiences, and feelings.
Stunning images. They resonate with my love for Kenya. The story of the rhino reminded me of my encounter with 3 white rhinos in South Africa, where I was sitting by a waterhole watching and photographing these rhinos. Suddendly they came in my direction. I couldn’t go anywhere, so I just sat there and try to be as harmless as I could be for these rhinos. They really came close and their horns touched my legs. I didn’t dare to move. One was getting nervous and was schatching the soil with his paw. After about 20 minutes they went away. After they left I couldn’t stand on my feet, but the next day I realised what had happened and how incredible it had been to be that close to wild rhinos. Fortunately a friend had been standing on the other side of the waterhole and he had taken pictures, so I still have those memories and proof that it really happened. I wouldn’t recommend being in that situation to other people though.
Stunning work!
Thank you, Hanna!
Breathe taking David. Thanks for sharing
Thanks for that, Shane
WOW! Weren’t you in danger from the wildfire??
There were some concerning moments when the winds shifted, but no. We kept a safe distance and the conservancy did everything they could to keep it moving in the right direction, away from the vital areas.
How does one select/order a signed print? It would be in good company along with Jim Brandenburg and Ansel Adams prints in my modest home office.
Hey, Hubert, I sent you an email directly.
Wow! Truly fabulous photographs. Years ago you told me in a Zoom lecture that you were not a wildlife photographer. That may have been true then, but your current wildlife work is staggeringly beautiful. Thanks for years of inspiration. (P.S. Try some bird photography. I dream of another trip to Africa just for the birds.)
Isn’t it funny how we change, and grow into new people? I definitely avoided the label then, and adopt it only reluctantly now. But thank you for saying that.