With Camera, Clouds & Birds

The rains had been relentless for days, but there was finally a brief pause. It felt like the perfect moment to tend to the garden, gather some fruit, and take leisurely walks beneath the towering trees. My friend says I’m in love with this place. Maybe he’s right, after all.

 

(Clouds floating around the hills at Natadol. This is what I saw on the first morning of my stay there)

 

Early in the morning, still lying in bed, I could hear birds chirping outside my room. It was quite cold, but that didn’t stop me from leaving the warmth of my quilt to grab my camera. The garden work could wait—those birds wouldn’t!

The birds were creating quite a racket. I recognized the Bulbul’s familiar “Tea for Two” call and the melodious notes of the whistling thrush, though soon they were drowned out by the loud calls of jays and magpies. My camera, with a 135mm lens mounted, was ready. I stepped outside, not fully awake, but for me, watching the birds and enjoying their playful antics is more important than capturing them. Still, I brought the camera along, just in case something interesting caught my eye.

As I stepped out, any lingering sleepiness vanished in an instant. Clouds had settled all around the valley, with a few peaks peeking through. The scene shifted with every passing minute as the clouds floated by, playing hide and seek with the hills. A gentle breeze swept over my face, carrying the fresh scent of moist foliage and pines. I found myself clicking away, capturing the ever-changing clouds, when suddenly a striped babbler perched comfortably on the fence to my left. Ah, the birds—I had almost forgotten about them! Soon, the sun would rise, and the clouds would lose their mystical charm. I took a few more shots before the moment passed.

 

(A single cloud floating between the hills, while the landscape was still covered in a blue haze.)

 

By then, I was fully awake. The landscape was gradually coming to life, and I could see it reflected in my camera’s light meter. I had it set to aperture priority mode, and slowly, the shutter speed was creeping up as the light increased. Soon, the sun would make an appearance—if the clouds allowed it. I went back into the cottage and switched to a long telephoto lens. Now I looked the part of a certified birder, with my long lens and camo hat!

As I wandered through the garden, the first birds to catch my eye were a pair of doves. They’re called turtle doves—or maybe one was a spotted dove. Interesting name for a pigeon! It has a beautiful back that resembles a turtle shell and, at times, a greenish-grey belly. One key skill in bird photography is learning how to approach birds without startling them. Turtle doves are perfect for practicing this—they’re calm and don’t spook easily, allowing you to get pretty close. Just be sure to avoid any sudden movements.

 

(This one was roaming around in the lawn)

(Another shot of its friend. These are quite docile birds and generally not easily scared!)

 

Once again, a couple of bulbuls darted past, eventually settling on a tall oak tree and repeating their familiar call (or maybe an order for us to prepare) —”Tea for Two, Tea for Two.” I tried to focus my camera on them, but the thick oak foliage obscured my view. Bulbuls are another species that’s relatively easy to approach. They don’t usually spook easily or fly away. However, I’ve noticed that even the slightest noise can send them off. I remember once standing quite close to one when my phone rang—and just like that, it was gone.

Babblers are quite similar to bulbuls in that they approach humans without much fear. A striated babbler perched on an apple tree, and soon three more joined it. It was the perfect opportunity to practice my approach! Quietly, I crept toward the tree. The nearest babbler cast a wary glance in my direction, so I froze in place. After a few seconds, I inched a little closer, careful not to startle them.

 

(Striated babbler on an apple tree. It was quite suspicious of me. Photographed from about 2 meters away)

 

I’m not a bird photographer; for me, these photos are part of the marketing campaign I’ll be running for Maini’s Hill Cottages, our homestay. Yet, I’m beginning to enjoy spotting these birds and learning about their behaviors.

Suddenly, the birds’ songs gained a new layer—percussion. The whistles and melodies were now accompanied by a rhythmic ‘tat, tat, tat.’ A woodpecker had landed on a wild apricot tree, tapping away in its signature beat: rat-tat-tatta-tat-a-rat-tat-tatta-tat-a. Woodpeckers are cautious creatures. They allow you to get somewhat close, but always keep a safe distance. As they move up and down the trunk, they carefully maintain their comfort zone. If you step into it, they screech and fly off. To me, it sounds less like a cry of fear and more like they’re cursing in frustration!

 

(Woodpecker on the wild apricot tree)

 

Carrying around the heavy telephoto lens mounted on my camera isn’t something I particularly enjoy. After capturing some bird shots, I was eager to switch back to my favorite 135mm lens and maybe sit in my favorite chair, pen down a few thoughts about the birds, and gaze out the window overlooking the valley.

My trip to the garden had been successful, at least as far as bird photography was concerned. But soon, clouds began to gather, and before long, it started to drizzle.

None of my cameras or lenses are weatherproof, yet I never feel uncomfortable using them in this kind of weather. I often tell my friends the same thing: the worst that can happen is that the equipment gets damaged. And that’s as good an excuse as any to indulge in an upgrade—perfect for satisfying a case of ‘upgraditis’ or ‘gear acquisition syndrome (GAS).’ So, enjoy photography without being overly protective of your gear.

The drizzle was picking up as I walked back toward the cottage. A few stray drops are fine, but judging by the clouds, a downpour was imminent. As I made my way up the path, I spotted a black-headed jay. These birds are quite common here and seem to love the fruit in our garden, perhaps because we let them be. They’re free to eat as much as they want, and since we don’t use any chemicals, it’s a natural haven for them.

Still, jays are easily startled, though their larger size makes them great subjects for photos. Magpies, being even larger, are even easier to photograph. I’ve always admired their long tails. I figured a quick shot of the jay wouldn’t delay me too much. The bird seemed ready for its moment, looking at me with curious eyes as if waiting for the click of the shutter. I wasn’t going to disappoint! Although it was getting darker and the jay was in the shade, I managed to capture the shot.

 

(The black-headed jay that was waiting for me to click)

 

The rain was picking up, so I hurried back to the cottage. The lens was slightly damp, but a quick wipe with a clean, dry handkerchief took care of it. In a few days, it would be stored safely in the dry cabinet anyway. By the time I got inside, it was pouring cats and dogs. Perfect time for a hot cup of tea, as requested earlier by the bulbuls.

As I write this, sipping my tea, I watch the thick clouds outside my window. The distant hills are completely hidden. Looks like today is shaping up to be a wonderfully lazy day.

 

EDIT 1 –

After a full day of rain, the sky cleared just enough after sunset to reveal soft pastel hues and another group of clouds drifting over the distant houses. The pastel tones, combined with the eerie haze, created a stunning scene—perfect for a photograph, one that I feel adds the finishing touch to this article. Fittingly, the day began with clouds, was mostly spent reading and writing, and ended with a capture of the twilight zone—a perfect closing moment.

 

(Late evening when the clouds started to clear up)

 

This article, originally published on my photography site, is now archived here; while some details may have lost their original context over time, it still offers an intriguing read.
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