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I follow photographers on Instagram who have been doing bird and other wildlife photography so well for so long that they can post fresh, technically flawless images every single day. I’m nowhere close to that. For one thing, I’ve only been doing photography for a year. For another, my ratio of hits to misses is probably inverse to theirs.

I have just enough knowledge and experience that I have a decent sense when one of my bird photographs works and when it doesn’t. And when a photo doesn’t work I can usually pinpoint one or more reasons why: I’ve under- or overexposed the image beyond repair, the eye isn’t tack sharp, there is a distracting element in the frame, etc. I have hundreds of photographs sitting on my external hard drive that have interesting subjects but which I know are subtly “flawed.”

Like this photo I took last month of a California Quail. There are things I like about it. It’s shot at ground level. The background is relatively clean. And quail are just adorable, with their little round bodies and funny topknots (yes, that’s really what they’re called). But when I look at this photograph my eye is drawn to the distracting piece of grass running the length of the bird’s neck and intersecting the head. A more experienced photographer would be able to take that out in Photoshop…or make sure it wasn’t in the frame to begin with.

Yet I don’t want to lose sight of what’s most important for me. While I’m working hard to improve as a photographer, the greatest gift this new hobby has given me is a deeper connection with creation. The bird—or coyote, or squirrel, or landscape, or people—comes first. Even the search for the elusive perfect photograph must be in service to that.

Location: Silverton, Oregon

Date: April 29, 2021

Exposure: 1/400 second, f/6.3, ISO 2500

Focal Length: 600 mm

Gear:

• Camera: Nikon D750

• Lens: Sigma 150-600mm f/5-6.3 DG OS HSM Contemporary