I am in awe of beautiful sunrises. That being said, it is never easy to get up at 4am in the dead of winter, to drive two hours to see one. I have to really hype myself the night before to commit to getting out of bed when the alarm goes off. This past January, I had an itch to see our wintering Swans, so I made the commitment to go pay them a visit.
I was out of bed by 4am, and out the door with my cup of coffee by 4:30. I drove north in the pitch-black dark for a little over two hours to arrive at the refuge at twilight. As I pulled off the paved road onto a well-worn dirt road, the first hints of light and color were beginning to show to the East of me. The race was on. I was still a few miles from the location and needed to there and get set up before sunrise.
A few minutes later, I stepped out from the warmth of my vehicle, and was immediately hit by freezing air temperatures and a stiff breeze. The shock of the frozen air on my face, was soon overcome by the call of hundreds of Tundra Swans just down the road. I put on a pair of gloves and a beanie, grabbed my camera, and took a short walk over to the marsh. I crawled down the bank to the edge of the water, under the cover of darkness, and sat among the broken reeds. As I looked across the water, I could see and hear hundreds of Swans floating in the darkness.
As I watched the sky above the Swans increase in light, I could also see that the bank of low-lying clouds on the horizon was quickly building in size. I began to wonder if I would see a sunrise at all, and if the trip was going to be a bust. As a wildlife photographer, you have so little control over the elements in your photography. Light, weather, animals... nature does as she pleases, and you just have to be there, and be ready to capture the moment if it happens. And if it does not, well, you just have to remind yourself that it is still better than sitting on the couch.
The Tundra Swans seemed to care much less whether they would see a beautiful sunrise or not. Hundreds of Swans filled the marsh, as a constant stream of birds flew in from other locations. The marsh echoed with their eerie calls.Â
Fortunately, the clouds held off long enough for the sun to make its arrival. The clouds changed from the pre-dawn purples and pinks to gold and orange. The clouds seemed to intensify in color as each second passed by. The water in the marsh reflected the sunlight with just as much intensity as the sky did.
When that magical window arrives, you have to take full advantage of it. For the next 10 minutes, my finger hardly came off of the shutter button. At this point I could no longer feel my finger, but fortunately it was still able to do its job. Â
In situations like these, it's unbelievable how quickly the lighting and colors change. Just pointing the camera lens a few degrees in different direction will completely change the look and feel of an image. I'm fanatical about backlit images in nature photography, so I am often shooting right into the sun. Depending on the direction I pointed my camera, one Swan would be a black silhouette against a bright sky, while the next would glow against a dark background. Â
The sky in every other direction was completely blanketed in gray clouds, but somehow a small window to the East remained open. It felt like the rising Sun was channeling all of its energy and light through that one pocket in the clouds. The Tundra Swans were constantly coming in and taking off right in front of me, which allowed me lots of opportunities to photograph them as they flew through the opening in the clouds. Â
As quickly as it had intensified, the light began to mellow from its vibrant golds to a subdued orange and yellow. After a few more landings and takeoffs, the light had completely faded and the low bank of clouds now surrounded me in all directions. The unbelievable light that I witnessed for a short time was now gone. Although the Swans continued with their morning routines, the world that surrounded me was void of highlights and shadows, seemingly grey with little contrast. It was almost as if the sunrise had not occurred at all. Fortunately, I had a memory card full of golds and yellows to say otherwise.