Thoughts on photography and other things by Jeremy Moore.
This is my favourite “sit spot” in Coed Tamsin. Bob has installed a bench here, and I believe has felled some trees/shrubs on the other side of the stream to enhance the view. I’ve been tempted to call him “Capability Shaw”! I’m full on with the project at the moment. Things change so fast in spring time. Blink and you miss it……….
For an introduction to my work in Coed Tamsin, please see this post.
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It’s always good to have a photographic project on the go and since May last year I’ve been documenting a woodland near Aberystwyth. This has involved numerous visits during the course of the year which will culminate on Mayday 2026, the spring festival of Beltaine. I’ve been very lucky in that the National Library in Aberystwyth has agreed to purchase a set of prints of their choosing so that a permanent record will exist of the woodland and the activities taking place there. The following paragraphs have been written for the library as an introduction to the prints.
Coed Tamsin is a woodland a few miles from Aberystwyth belonging to Felicia Jervis, and managed by her partner Bob Shaw, a woodsman, environmentalist (and philosopher….) of many years experience. It was bought in 1987 as a memorial to Felicia’s daughter Tamsin, who had died the previous year in a road accident, at the age of 21. Tamsin’s father was John Jervis of Bryneithin Hall, Llanfarian, then a privately owned museum of Welsh country tools, other artifacts and techniques. Bob and Felicia’s intention was to manage the woodland for wildlife, people and timber, whilst also acknowledging John’s legacy.
Previously known as Flat Covert, Coed Tamsin was originally part of the Nanteos Estate. Prior to the purchase the woodland consisted largely of conifers and had long been neglected. Under new ownership the conifers were thinned or removed altogether, and broad-leaves planted using locally derived seed. Trees have been managed to produce good quality timber, coppice products, and material for woodland skills training. Alongside these aims, the enhancement of biodiversity has been a primary objective. In recent years the arrival of ash dieback and the consequent felling of mature trees has led to an explosion of woodland ground flora in spring.
Coed Tamsin has been used extensively over the years by groups of disadvantaged children and adults, for example, those excluded from school, or with learning disabilities, and recovering alcoholics. Groups from the Centre for Alternative Technology and elsewhere in the community received training in woodland management and green woodworking there. The changing seasons have regularly been celebrated at Coed Tamsin, with music, food and fire; notably at Beltaine, the Celtic May Day festival.
During 2025/26 the wood has been a meeting place for “Meini Hirion / Elders for Wales” – a project of the Welsh Government’s internal Culture Change Service which forms a core element of Wales’ response to the UN Convention on Biological Diversity.
At the time of writing the long-term future of Coed Tamsin is uncertain. There is no guarantee that ownership of the woodland will pass to someone sympathetic to the aims of the current owner and manager.
Photographer Jeremy Moore first visited Coed Tamsin in 1989 when working on his exhibition ‘After the Wildwood’. A photograph taken there appears in the exhibition catalogue. As a friend of Bob and Felicia he has visited the woodland on many occasions since then. However it was not until spring 2025 that he realised how important it was that this very special place should be documented before it was too late. He has since visited the wood many times in an attempt to present a picture of Coed Tamsin in perhaps its finest hour.
It’s impossible to choose one photograph to illustrate the whole project. So many photographic approaches have been involved…… landscape, documentary, portraiture and nature…….. But the one above goes some way to illustrate the links between nature and people which have been so important at Coed Tamsin over the last thirty-nine years. I’ll add some more images in separate posts over the next few weeks. So watch this space!
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It was always going to be a bit of a punt, visiting the Isle of Mull at the end of February. I’m not going to tell a lie, the weather was pretty poor. While we were able to get outside every day, even if just for an hour in the evening, I can’t remember a single moment when the sun shone from a clear blue sky. Maybe a peek through thin cloud now and again on a good day…….
At that time of year we hoped to see eagles (golden and white-tailed) and…yes… we did. I surveyed eagles on Mull for the RSPB in 1981, before sea eagles became established. It became apparent that the island was just bursting with golden eagles. Where a territory had no suitable tree- or cliff nesting sites, they would nest more or less on the ground. I’m sure I didn’t find them all but it was thought that there were probably 25 pairs on the island.
There has been a school of thought that during the following decades, as white-tailed eagles successfully colonised the island, golden eagles might be driven out of their territories, especially along the coast. But on the evidence of our visit that did not seem to be the case. Most of our eagle sightings were of birds high in the sky a quarter of a mile away or more and nearly all of them were goldens. While we did see some white-tails they tended to be closer to ‘civilisation’ and thus easier to see. I know this is very poor evidence to support any kind of theory but it was interesting. I’d love to know the truth.
But the eagles were by no means the only highlight of the week. Our last morning was wonderful, with little wind and blue skies. From the Oban ferry I picked out what I first thought was a group of small cetaceans. Further observation suggested they were probably blue-fin tuna; I’ve searched online for ID pointers but most websites are far more concerned with catching them than identifying them! Wintering great northern divers were common and the chocolate shop at Craignure was wonderful! Perhaps my most enduring memory was of an otter at the narrow mouth of a sea-loch, Loch Spelve. Sitting onshore and looking across the water I noticed a disturbance mid-channel and it turned out to be an otter, heading inland from the ocean. Every so often it would appear for a few seconds, then dive, its conical tail being the last part of its body to be visible. It came onshore briefly and I managed to get some photographs of it before it headed off again.
I’m trying to get in touch with Dave Sexton, the RSPB’s “man on the ground” on Mull (now retired) for some thoughts on the relationships between golden and white-tailed eagles on the island. If I get a reply, I’ll update this.
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My partner Jane works at the Dyfi Biosphere reserve in Machynlleth, which has links to the Urdaibai Biosphere near Bilbao, in the Basque Country. So we decided to have a short holiday there in September. We’re both keen on train travel and it was a chance for me to use the Interrail pass which I had bought last December and which expired this month. So we took the sleeper train to Bayonne in France and then onward to Hendaye on the Spanish border. From there we transferred onto the narrow gauge (but electrified) line towards Bilbao. I can’t say I would recommend the latter. It took three hours and stopped at fifty-one stations! At each one the doors slid open and clanged shut, with numerous accompanying beeps. Think a three hour journey on the Tube and you’ve just about got it. But arrive we did, eventually. There is a very good network of local trains and buses in the Bilbao area so we used public transport exclusively while were there.
I knew little about the Basque Country before leaving and even less about the language. It’s fair to say that the distribution of letters in a Basque edition of Scrabble would be very different to the UK version……. X, Z and K would only score one point each, for starters! It is hilly and heavily wooded country with a dramatic coastline. One of the most well-known features of the latter is the islet of Gaztelugatxe – complete with a chapel dedicated to San Juan on its summit – linked to the mainland by a stone bridge. It is considered to be a pilgrimage site, and has always been a popular destination for visitors. It was used as a location in The Game of Thrones, and now, at busy periods, you need to book a ticket online before visiting. And there can still be queues. I knew nothing about this, of course, and was disappointed to discover that no passes were available for the day that I could visit. It took me a while to discover that in late September there were no longer any restrictions. Lucky me!
My visit started with a bus journey from Bermeo (the nearest town) well before dawn on a showery morning. It was still dark when the bus left me at the side of the road above the island. By the time I had reached the coastline it was light but no sun lit the island. A passing break in the clouds allowed a few sunbeams to hit the chapel but the camera was still in my bag. I then discovered that I had left my polariser in the hotel. This was becoming a habit!
However, when I got to the bridge and looked along the coastline things started took a turn for the better. Talk about moody! Stormy skies, rock stacks, skerries with white water breaking over them, and rain showers passing across the landscape. I decided that long exposures using a neutral density filter would make the best of the conditions. Without a tripod I had to brace the camera carefully against a stone wall and rely on the image stabilisation for which Olympus kit is renowned. I took a series of exposures in the region of 1.6 to 4 seconds long and hoped for the best. Short breaks in the cloud even allowed the sun to illuminate the most prominent stack, leaving everything else in shadow. All my extremities were crossed at this moment! And the islet with its chapel was illuminated for short periods of time too.
I spent hours processing some of these photographs on my return home to the UK. Most of the long exposures needed some serious sharpening, but taking into consideration how long they actually were, that’s not surprising. Without the latest technology they would have been virtually impossible (without a tripod), say, ten years ago. Thank goodness I had arrived early because by mid-morning the area was thronged by visitors. And thank goodness it hadn’t been a blue sky day!
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I wonder if most landscape/outdoor photographers are as solitary as this one? I suspect not. But if I’m not out in the landscape with my camera or binoculars I can usually be found sitting at my desk watching cat videos on Youtube or scrolling though Facebook er….. sorry……. er ……..processing images and running my business. Rarely does the phone ring or an exciting proposal arrive by email. I’m not naturally gregarious and promoting my work comes pretty low down on my list of priorities these days. But an unexpected opportunity came my way last weekend.
I was attending “The Eye” photography festival at Aberystwyth Arts Centre.. It is devoted to documentary photography and photo-journalism and its organiser – Glenn Edwards – has been able to bring some of the biggest names in the genre to little old Aberystwyth over the years. While these are not my specialities I do appreciate good photography of all types and I have always found it a stimulating event.
During the first lecture I noticed that my friend Will Troughton was in the audience. He is the photography curator at the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth and has always been a supporter of my work. So I went over to have a chat, during which he told me that one of the afternoon events was a visit to the Library. He had selected some prints from its huge Photography Collection (almost a million prints altogether) for attendees to browse through. As well as work from some of the greats of 19th Century photography, he had also chosen some more contemporary work including some of mine. So alongside Carleton Watkins prints of the nineteenth-century American West, and a set of prints of Native Americans from the same era by Edward Sherriff Curtis, was a selection from my exhibition Bird/land (click here to visit my website).
As it happened I had a one-off copy of the Bird/land book with me, so I offered to come down to the Library with him. While I hadn’t prepared a presentation I was introduced as the photographer and it gave me the opportunity to talk about Bird/land with some knowledgeable and interested photographers. I also had a copy of another one-off book with me – the result of a very long term project variously known as ‘my black-and-white project’, the ‘Fay Godwin project ‘, or, most definitively, ‘A Sideways Glance‘ (click here to visit my website.) The two books are so different in style and subject matter that it must seem difficult to believe that the same photographer could have produced both. But I am living evidence that he did! Both books provoked a great deal of interest and some good feedback.
This was a real boost to my confidence. Back at the Arts Centre I collared Glenn Edwards and showed them to him as well. The documentary style of A Sideways Glance was more to his liking, I suspect, and he looked through it very carefully, finally giving me very positive feedback. A few years ago I had hoped that he might give me a slot at “The Eye” but I think his intention has always been to bring photographic excellence to Aberystwyth, rather than showcase local photographers.
The following morning one of the other photographers asked me if it was possible to buy a copy of Bird/land, and I had to explain it was a one-off, and therefore quite expensive. But we agreed on a price and I’m just about to send it off to him down in Pembrokeshire.
As for me, until the weather improves, it’s back to the cat videos!
If you are interested in buying a copy of Bird/land, please let me know. It is in hardback, 28 x 28 cm in size with 20 double-page spreads, on very thick paper in “lay-flat” style. It contains a total of 117 images mostly in the form tryptichs. The price would be £95 including postage.
NB. Sadly it looks like this will have been the final “Eye” in Aberystwyth due to declining attendances. It was good while it lasted!
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After a session trying to photograph St Davids Cathedral (click to read), I decided to go for a coffee. It was while I drank it that I had a brain wave. Why not take a wildlife cruise out from St Justinians later in the day? Conditions seemed perfect. So I compared the options available from the various boat operators in St Davids and chose a ninety minute “evening shearwater cruise” leaving at 6.30 p.m. I was so sure I would have some great photographic opportunities from the boat that I slouched around the St. Davids area for most of the day. I suppose some measure of complacency had crept in.
Come 6.30pm I boarded the boat. It was a RIB with fixed seats and once seated the punters were expected to stay in place. The boatman told us that “every seat is a front row seat”. The company owner was on board with four of her friends; needless to say they had the best seats – at the front. We were then informed that – actually – there were very few shearwaters around at the moment. Once underway we did a clockwise half-circuit of Ramsey Island: this meant that those in the seats on the starboard (right-hand) side of the boat (and the front…..) had uninterrupted views of the few seals in the caves and coves. I was on the port side – and it was very frustrating. Then we headed a couple of miles offshore to search for shearwaters, and there were a few, but all very distant. It also occurred to me that there were hardly ANY seabirds around at all. I should have known better than to book a wildlife cruise at the end of August when most of the seabirds would have left the cliffs several weeks earlier.
But the boat company should have warned potential passengers that this would be the case. Falcon Boats was the culprit in this instance but I’m sure they all do it. I’ll certainly be far more careful before going out on a tourist boat again.
I recounted in this post how I managed to get some good photographs of an osprey from the Curlew hide at the Teifi Marshes on the journey down. There were other photographers in the hide and a few visitors popped in and out. The “locals” engaged in conversations with each other over the heads of other people in the hide. On the way back I called in there again and inside was another bunch of local photographers in there. They talked very loudly to each other about some incident in a car park that one of them had experienced. It was as if they owned the place. How must other people in the hide have felt about this? It was so rude. I left suddenly and shut the door after me. I wished I had slammed it harder to make my feelings known.
The problem with the Teifi Marshes is that access to the hides is via a multi-use path from Cardigan to Cilgerran that is frequently used by non-birders, including families with small children and dogs. In fact, judging by some of the vehicles I have seen in the car park, the path is also popular with commercial dog-walking and child-minding operators. Some of these people have no idea of how to behave in a hide. Several years ago one of the latter, complete with toddlers and a pram, crammed themselves into one of the hides and began chattering away to her friend. I asked her to keep the noise down and was met with a mouthful of the foulest language you can imagine.
Hide etiquette can be tricky. I’ve often enjoyed conversations with fellow birders in hides and the exchange of information there can be useful. I’m happy to help less experienced visitors with bird ID as well. Sometimes a position in the front row of a hide is a very valuable asset and the photographer is reluctant to give it away. I’ve done it myself – at the Snettisham wader roost, for example. My thinking went something like this: “I got up really early, walked two miles to get here, waited for my turn and I’m damn well going to take my time.” But there is no excuse for the rudeness I experienced that day in Cardigan.
Well, I know this post has been a bit of a moan. We all like a moan sometimes but sometimes there are good grounds for it. Just don’t get me started on the dog-owners who don’t control their pets while out in the landscape!
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Following a successful and worthwhile visit to the Teifi Marshes, culminating in a stunning photograph of an osprey carrying a fish (click to view) , I continued towards St Davids. One of my very best postcard customers has a shop there and I had been asked to do some more designs of the area. I have to consciously think “postcard” when this is the objective. I suppose I expect other people to have the same visual sense as I do. It was a sunny day with little cloud and a rather dusty atmosphere – not surprising considering all the dry weather we have had this summer. Long distance visibility was not great.
And I couldn’t find my polarising filter. I had “mislaid” (not quite officially “lost”) my first choice polariser and could mentally picture my spare sitting on the desk at home. I don’t use one for bird photography but find it indispensible for landscapes. Without it, what would I actually do on this trip? I decided to concentrate on the area around the Cathedral and Bishops Palace, both situated in the shallow valley of the River Alun, west of the main built up area. I was on the edge of the woodland overlooking the Bishops Palace when I happened to glance upwards – and there was a fox calmly looking down on me as I went about my business.
The only lens I had with me (a 12-100 mm zoom) was long enough. I had time to adjust various settings for optimal quality, but I was grateful for the image stabilisation built in to the lens. By this time light levels were rather low.
Eventually the fox carried on its way. I quietly followed it on a parallel path and then, reaching a track, went upwards. The fox re-appeared from the vegetation and looked at me silently again. I took another burst of images, including the main photo above. I’m going to have to admit here that there was some extraneous and out-of-focus vegetation around the animal but I found it was easy enough to remove it using Lightroom’s AI Removal tool. (Almost too easy, really: where will it end?) None of these images would win the Wildlife Photographer of the Year for that reason , but I’m contented enough. What do you think?
I had a fitful night’s sleep, waking about 4 a.m. and frantically ransacking the van again for my polariser, but to no avail. Come the morning I looked through my bag again and there was the polariser. It was just sitting there in one of the pockets. How could I have missed it?? So it was over to the Cathedral with a spring in my step. As well as being a crucial photographic tool for me I think it must also be a comfort blanket. The Cathedral has surely been photographed a million times and it was difficult to envisage anything different, especially with a postcard in mind. I spent a while around the Cathedral grounds trying to find something new but I’m not sure I succeeded.
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I’m a fairly regular visitor to the Teifi Marshes, at Cardigan, which has a selection of easily accessible hides allowing excellent views of interesting birds at close quarters. It must be one of the best places in the UK to photograph water rails, for example (see this post), and kingfisher. It is about fifty miles away from home, and I tend to visit the reserve if I am on my way down to Pembrokeshire for some reason. What I usually do is leave home the previous evening and sleep in the van, meaning that an early morning visit is easy. For a number of years I had a favourite park-up, about a mile away, in a very wide and deep farm gateway, where I had never seen any farming activity.
One such visit was late last winter. It was a cold and frosty night and I woke early to find the van enveloped in thick valley fog. I opened the rear doors to see a group of white ponies standing the other side of the gate in a white-out. It really was magical. I put the kettle on and began making my breakfast. Then I heard a vehicle arrive next to mine and its door opening. “Oi…. you can’t park there ….it’s private property!” came a voice (or words to that effect) . It was the farmer, coming to feed his animals. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and apologised profusely, switching off the kettle and moving into the driver’s seat. Turning the ignition key there was a click, and then silence. The battery had died overnight. I was so embarrassed! To his credit the farmer could see that I was harmless and was in an impossible situation. He easily carried his bales of hay the few extra yards from his trailer to the gate, and was away. I called the breakdown service and settled down to a long wait and a leisurely breakfast. I wouldn’t be visiting the Marshes that morning…….
Since then I’ve found another park-up not far away and have spent a few nights there. One such was last week, and I arrived at the reserve about 7 o’clock on Thursday morning; the tide was high, the river full and the hide overlooking the (tidal) creek seemed to be a good place to start. I spent some time there and saw a very good selection of species – kingfisher, water rail, greenshank, and curlew among others. The problem for the photographer is that both the Creek and Kingfisher hides face east; the light can be very difficult at both until at least mid-morning. Nevertheless I did manage some close-up images of a kingfisher from the latter; I also watched a water rail there fly to the island, and then swim back to the main reedbed a few minutes later! Returning to the Creek hide I photographed a small wader creeping around at the water’s edge. Although the photograph is nothing to write home about it was good enough to identify the bird as a green sandpiper.
It had been reported earlier in the week that three different ospreys had been seen fishing on the Teifi river alongside the marshes. They had been identified by the colour rings fitted to their legs as nestlings. One was unringed, another had been ringed in Germany and the third in Scotland. I returned to the Curlew hide on the river-bank in the hope that one would turn up. And turn up it did! Another photographer was droning away about all the birds he’d seen and where, when I noticed the gulls on the river had all flown and scattered. There was obviously “something about”. And sure enough, an osprey appeared over the river and, at its first attempt, proceeded to catch a fish right in front of the hide! During the minute it took the bird to gain enough height to fly away I was able to get a sequence of images of it with its prey. They weren’t all sharp but by judicious use of the denoise, selection and sharpening tools in Lightroom (and even a tweak in Topaz Photo AI) I was able to get several I am very pleased with.
I’m not sure if ironic is the correct word to use here but I chose the main photograph from the sequence because of the fish’s position. I doubt if the poor creature appreciated how this single split second (one four-thousandth to be exact) during its final moments of life in the osprey’s talons gave this meticulous photographer the most creative satisfaction.
NB. I’ve just cropped the main photo to enlarge the bird.
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Earlier in the year in a post about willow/marsh tits I happened to mention that I had been in the Swiss Alps during March. How did that come about? Well, if I had had a bucket list it would have contained two must-do’s ; revisit Venice and travel across the Alps by train on the route of the Bernina Express. Using the indispensible “Man in Seat 61” website* I discovered that I could do both on one trip – travel out to Venice on a sleeper train, and back over the Alps via the Bernina Express. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!
I had four days in Venice followed by three elsewhere on “The Lagoon”, and then made my way to the Swiss border for the start of the scenic route. And scenic it certainly was, but not in the way I was expecting. For most of the three days I was in and around the Alps the cloud was well below mountain top level and fine snow fell almost continuously. Think hill fog and drizzle at 6000 feet altitude and temperatures around zero. While in some ways this was disappointing, it was very atmospheric.
I stayed in Pontresina, a resort not far from St Moritz. Winter sports are very big there, as you can imagine, particularly cross-country ski-ing. There is a network of XC trails which are apparently swept every morning to make sure conditions are just-so for the skiers. Walkers are also well catered for; there are two low level, easily do-able (even in complete snow cover) walks from Pontresina; one up Val Roseg to a mountain hotel famous for its cakes (I had cheesecake) ; the other involving a short train ride then an uphill walk towards the ice-cave at the mouth of the Morteratsch Glacier. I say ‘towards’ because the first section is easy enough but then you need to go off-piste, upwards and cross-country. I doubted whether I would be capable of it. For one thing my walking boots were completely unsuitable for deep snow. I decided to go for it anyway and see what might happen.
Shortly after leaving the railway station I fell in with another man who was going my way. He was from a town not far away, a proper mountaineer and a photographer to boot, and kitted out for the occasion with camera bag, tripod, heavy duty footwear and XC skis. He was heading for the glacier. We talked photography and landscape non-stop and in what seemed like no time at all had arrived at the end of the marked trail. Here he persuaded me – in the nicest possible way – to accompany him to the ice cave. I couldn’t say no! So he jammed his skis into the snow, left them there, and we set off. When progress got more difficult he loaned me his walking poles, and even carried my camera bag for me in the trickiest sections. How kind of him!
I can’t say it was easy even with his help, in some places wading through deep drifts of soft snow overlying boulder scree, but we did eventually arrive. At that point we did our own thing, he with his heavyweight full frame Nikon gear including a clutch of prime lenses and me with my puny (but effective) micro 4/3rds set-up. A guided walking group arrived before we left and they formed a nice contrast to the primeval scenes within the cave. I found myself particularly visually drawn to a ribbed ice formation just outside the cave entrance, which allowed some nice abstract images..
It was soon time to leave as I had a train to catch – the first stage in my journey home. I slithered and slid down to the trail where we parted ways again. He had been so patient with me! We said our goodbyes, he fitted his skis and was soon whizzing away downhill. I walked quickly back to the station and ….. surprise, surprise ….. there was a restaurant with a fine selection of cakes! Earl Grey tea and a slice of apricot tart for me please!
* NB : For anyone considering long distance rail travel to or in Europe or elsewhere I cannot recommend The Man in Seat 61 website highly enough.
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I might be a raptor nut but I love terns too. Wales is a bit of a “tern desert” and with one exception (little terns near Prestatyn) one must visit Anglesey to connect with them. Cemlyn Bay on the north coast is the Welsh tern H.Q. with its large sandwich tern colony, alongside smaller numbers of arctics and commons. On a good day one might see a roseate as well. I can confidently say that a visit to Cemlyn is one of the finest wildlife experiences in Wales. But your timing needs to be carefully judged.
The ideal time is just after the tern chicks have fledged because their parents then guide them to the shingle spit which divides the lagoon from the sea, away from the chaos of the nesting islands. But leave it too late and the whole damn lot of them will have left altogether! Last year I arrived on July 23rd to find that most had already gone, whereas in 2020, August 1st was just perfect.
This year I discovered that the North Wales Wildlife Trust helpfully posts updates on the progress of the colony on its website. It suggested that a visit sooner rather than later would be advisable. So I headed north late on July 12th. The following morning I was there bright and early for the full tern colony experience. Immaculate birds, constant activity, and plenty of noise! Despite nearly 50 years of birding experience I have never totally got to grips with the differences between arctic and common terns. Many birders refer to them as “comics” because they are so difficult to separate. However after this visit I think I’m getting there! Sandwich terns are comparatively easy, and I have so rarely come across roseates that identifying one would be a real adventure (but see this post…..).
As it happened I picked up my first roseate quite quickly. It was visible on and off on the near edge of the main nesting island during the morning, and around lunchtime there were two together. I was able to get a few (rather poor) photographs of them. One of the tern wardens arrived soon afterwards and I was able to point them out to him. How about that for confidence! But as he had been seeing them throughout the breeding season he wasn’t too excited. He told me that one pair had attempted to breed early on but had failed, while he was still hoping that another pair would soon appear from the denser vegetation on the island with a youngster.*
For some time prior to that I was in “spray and pray” (or point and hope) mode. In other words: point your camera at a bird in flight, press the shutter button and try to follow it. This seems to me to be rather a technical task more dependent on luck than anything else, and I find it rather unsatisfying.
What I found more challenging was to place the terns within the landscape to give them some kind of context. At low tide, during the middle of the day, many roosted on the beach or on rocky outcrops along the foreshore. One could thus place them within an unspoiled landscape, suggesting that all is well with the world, which is perfectly valid. Alternatively, shooting from a different angle, one could set them against the massive hulk of Wylfa nuclear power station , now disused, only a couple of miles away. The viewer can then make up their own mind about the state of the world.
As I mentioned this was during the middle of the day when the sun was at its highest. This is never a good time to take photographs of anything in summer so one does one’s best to compensate for it at the processing stage. Some of the newer features in Lightroom are excellent for this – in particular the ease with which “objects” can be selected and processed individually without affecting the rest of the image. And “denoise” is excellent, although rather slow on my PC.
Another thing I noticed very clearly was how the apparent colour of the power station changed during the course of the day. Its colour scheme at breakfast time matches the colour of the lichen covered rocks on the foreshore very well, and it would be uncanny if this had not been part of its design. I included a photograph illustrating this in my book “Wales at Waters Edge”; I wonder if anyone noticed….? But by early afternoon the plant was naturally bathed in blue light and looked quite different. To put it more technically, the colour of sunlight is towards the blue end of the colour spectrum (“cooler”) during the middle of the day, while it is “warmer” earlier and later. This is well known among photographers but I have never known it being demonstrated so clearly as it was that day.
Arriving as early as July 13th was, in the event, quite a close shave. A note on Facebook from the tern wardens on the 18th said that most of the terns (95% of them) had already left the area. I wish them good luck on their travels and hope they make it back to Cemlyn next year.
*N.B. : The second pair also failed …..
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Tales from Wild Wales 