The Heron That Taught Me How To See

I want to share a short story with you - one that explains how I approach wildlife photography, and why I teach the way I do.

In 2002, on a family trip to Florida’s Everglades, I saw more wildlife than I could process as a child. Alligators, manatees, turtles basking everywhere. But it was the herons that won me over. Something about that prehistoric landscape, and those equally ancient-looking birds, lodged itself in my imagination.

Back home in London, my dad noticed the spark and started taking me to the London Wetland Centre. The reserve was running a photography competition, and I decided to have a shot at it. So for six Sunday mornings, we went there religiously to photograph and learn. I had a basic film camera (this was pre-digital) and very little idea of how to take photos.

On the main lake, there was a grey heron who always stood in exactly the same spot. Elegant, and conveniently predictable, he made an excellent test subject. I had grand plans for him: a photo of a heron catching a frog, frame-filling action, something dramatic and “award-winning”.

Five weekends in, with a dozen rolls of film used and nothing dramatic to show for it, my patience was wearing thin. Then the Wetland Centre’s monthly newsletter landed. One article’s headline caught my eye:

“Laziest Bird in London? Heron recorded to fly just 1km in a year!”

The accompanying photo showed the exact same heron.

I’d unknowingly picked the least cooperative subject imaginable. There was no way I’d get that award-winning hunting shot. 

At the time, it felt quite frustrating. But without realising it, something far more important was happening. I was learning to slow down and watch. To notice light, behaviour, and small moments rather than chasing spectacle. Also, my dad would drip-feed me tips on camera settings - aperture, shutter speed. Some of it went straight over my head, but enough stuck for me to start making more informed shooting decisions.

Each morning, the heron stood in that same corner of the pond as soft light filtered through the reeds - side-lighting the bird, with the background in shadow. The resulting photo that I took wasn’t showy at all - just a quiet, introspective image that felt true to the bird and the moment. That image won the photography award. More importantly, it set the direction for everything that followed.

That heron still matters to me. It’s why a heron features in my logo today.

It taught me that the photographs that mean the most don't come from speed or spectacle, but through close attention and connection - noticing light, behaviour, mood. That philosophy still underpins my work and my tours: spending time with a subject and a place, letting moments unfold, and creating images that reflect not just what you see, but how it feels to be there.

If that way of creating images resonates with you, you’re very much in the right place.

I’ll share more practical ideas and opportunities soon. And if you’d ever like to talk through your own photography goals - whether for a tour, a taster session, or just curiosity - you’re always welcome to get in touch.

Paul Alistair Collins