Bashful

This was the trip that really set the ball rolling with my photography.

Seven days up in the Scottish Highlands to photograph mountain hares. Three of those days were spent with a professional photographer, and by the end of the week my photography had improved no end.

We’d had mixed conditions during the first couple of days. Flurries of snow left the exposed heather showing through, and then a couple of days of heavy snow completely transformed the mountains.

I was on my own by this point, while my guide was working with someone else. So off I went up the mountain, now much harder to traverse through the deep snow and concealed crevices that you could easily slip into. I kept ascending, higher than I had done on previous days, searching for a hare and a good opportunity. Right up on the plateau, with a wall of snow behind, I found the hare that would become known as ‘Lady’, although I didn’t name him that day.

I lay with him for nearly three hours.

He would move every 20–30 minutes, then settle down again, lying and embracing the bitter winds. I had to do the same, although clearly I’m not built to endure these conditions. My fingers were so cold they were hurting. I didn’t think I’d be able to move my fingers to use the camera, but when the time came round again, the pain seemed to disappear, and I was lost behind the camera again.

I wondered how much of an impact the bank of snow behind ‘Lady’ was having on breaking the wind, whilst I lay exposed in front of him. Or was it simply the lack of movement as I lay there? I’ll never know. What I do know is that I came away from that three-hour session very happy. Lady was remarkably compliant. The shadow on the snow wall behind him looked blue, caused by the slight shadow. It was a dream session for me. I didn’t want the session to end, but it was getting on.

So off I went, nonchalantly marching down the mountainside, with a little pep in my step. On my way down I could see my guide. He was looking at me through his binoculars. I waved at him and, as I did so, descended straight into one of those crevices, up to my armpits.

Fortunately, no harm done. Not really even to my pride. It was one of those ridiculous moments.

I later spoke to my guide. He hadn’t actually been certain it was me. He said he was watching someone come down the hill and then they just disappeared.

And of course, that was me.

*'Bashful' was Highly Commended by British Wildlife Photography Awards in 2022'