Caught on film
Barn Owls are a favourite subject for photographers – read how one expert captured a wonderful image, in the days before digital
When award-winning photographer Stephen Dalton began his career in the 1960s, no photographer had yet succeeded in capturing pin-sharp, high-quality photographs of insects and other smaller animals in flight on film. There were no digital cameras nor high-speed film.
Persistence, hard work and sheer faith pushed him to experiment with a variety of methods that had never been attempted, in order to capture high-speed images. Armed with an understanding of flight mechanics and photographic methods, two years of repeated experiments brought success: he captured a sharply focused image of a Barn Owl flying to its nest. And just like that, he had created the art of high-speed nature photography.
The extract and images below and right are taken from Stephen’s new book Capturing Motion: My Life in High Speed Photography which is out now priced at £24.95
Stephen’s story...
“The subject of my first attempt at high-speed photography of a flying bird was a Barn Owl. It also turned out to be one of the most frustrating and ambitious projects I’ve ever attempted.
“The Barn Owl, among the most familiar and widely distributed birds in the world, has few rivals for allure and sheer beauty. When seen quartering low over a meadow in twilight, it’s difficult to avoid gazing in admiration at the bird’s mesmerising flight. Even when examined close-up, the variety of mottled shades of apricot brown, white and silvery blue soft plumage is a joy to behold.
“Back in 1971, long before digital cameras, photographs of birds in flight were rare. The speed of high-quality film was at least 40,000 times slower than today’s highly sensitive digital cameras, and efficient autofocus was decades away.
“I had never photographed a Barn Owl before, so when I heard a rumour that an owl had been spotted flying into the ornamental tower of a local church, I went to investigate. The next evening, I settled down in the church car park to watch and, sure enough, as the light was fading, a pale form appeared from seemingly nowhere and settled on a gable cross. After pausing for a few seconds, the owl flew into one of the eight entrances to the tower. What’s more, when peering through my binoculars it was clear that the bird had a small rat in its beak, confirming that it was nesting and feeding its young in the tower.
“A day or two later, I had a cup of tea with the vicar and explained that I was a wildlife photographer who wanted to photograph a Barn Owl. I went on to explain that the photography would be far from a simple operation, involving sets of ladders, scaffolding boards across the roof spans and closing off seven of the eight tower entrances of the octagonal tower. A hide and a plethora of photographic and electronic paraphernalia would be needed, including a large 12-volt car battery, which would have to be hauled up and down the ladders for charging every other day. Much to my surprise the vicar didn’t blink an eyelid, and even seemed to relish the prospect of his church and owl being the centre of all this activity for several weeks.
“It wasn’t until I returned home that I began to have doubts about taking on such an ambitious project. Clambering about on high roofs, hauling heavy equipment up ladders, hanging onto the tower by my fingertips with one hand while erecting lights and blocking entrances with the other, was a daunting prospect. More important was maintaining the owl’s sense of security and making sure it did not desert the nest and the young because of all the activity.”
Equipment setbacks “
Careful planning of the operation would be crucial, and progress was very slow due to, among many factors, the limited time I allowed for setting up the equipment for fear of upsetting the birds.
“After numerous equipment setbacks and much coming and going, I employed two cameras set up side by side in the hide, both set on ‘B’ ( bulb), one camera containing Kodachrome that had to be sent away to Kodak for processing, which took a week. The other camera was loaded with Panatomic-X black-and-white film.
“After three weeks of this, my patience was running thin. Although I had managed to obtain a few indifferent pictures, none of them did justice to the bird and the setting. A couple of evenings had passed when, out of the blue, everything jelled. The next morning, I withdrew a strip of dripping negatives from the developing tank and saw the image that had been in my mind’s eye for weeks. All four flashlamps had fired correctly, and the owl’s wings were in the perfect position.
“I am delighted to report that a month later the owlets matured and flew, while the following season, the birds returned to their old home none the worse for being photographed”.