A man who loved nature: Rowan Emberson 

Rowan and I were together for 34 years.  Those years were the best of my life, and I can’t yet imagine a future without him.  Rowan and I were fairly self-sufficient.  We spent a lot of time in each other’s company, often on our own.  We shared interests and had a similar outlook on life.  More than that, we had a compatibility that made it easy for us to encourage and support each other to achieve much more than either of us could alone.  Rowan’s temperament was more relaxed than mine, so he smoothed off some of my rough edges, while I provided the drive he sometimes needed to realise his ambitions.

I think that Rowan and I complemented each other in a number of ways.  When we worked together, I was ‘big picture’, he was detail.  His approach was organic, mine more regimented.  Rowan often complained that I was too analytical, that when I asked how he felt, or why, he couldn’t answer.  He just ‘was’.  But he understood me far better than anyone else I’ve ever known.  With Rowan, I felt truly accepted for who I was, hackneyed, I know, but essential to being fully oneself.  He encouraged me, delighted in my ‘difference’ from other people.  He never wanted me any other way.  He may sometimes have been uncomfortable with my behaviour, and would wish that I change it, but never did I feel that there was anything essential to my being that was awry.

I feel like I’ve just been tipped out of a kayak into a maelstrom.  My equilibrium has gone, I have broken my rudder, and lost my paddle.  I have been thrown up on a new beach downstream, am mending the rudder and making a new paddle, that won’t have the well-worn feel of my old, familiar friend.  There is no going back, only forward, into new waters and new adventures.  Rowan wanted me to go there, and was fully confident that I could do it.  He will always be with me, wherever I go.  On a practical level, he asked me to take some of his ashes to the top of a Colorado 14 thousand foot peak (more for me than for him, I am sure).  Beyond that symbolic gesture, his outlook on life will forever colour my own; his energy, enthusiasm, endless curiosity, freedom from cynicism, his compassion will influence me for the rest of my life.  I am immensely fortunate to have shared so much of it with him.

I wrote this very shortly after Rowan died, tears falling on the keyboard.  Just a couple of months later, everything is still raw for me. Rowan was not afraid to show emotion, and at times I was embarrassed by this.  I have learned, though, very late in life, that I should not have been.  So, hard though I knew it might be, I had to share this with you.

Emu

The emu (Dromaius novaehollandiae) is a large, flightless bird, in the ratite group, second in size only to the ostrich (found in Africa).  Native to Australia, the emu’s closest relative is the much more rare, and colorful cassowary.  New Zealand’s kiwi is another, slightly more distant, relative.

A few emus are farmed in New Zealand, but we also have an opportunity to see them in captivity at our local wildlife park.  The ones that I have photographed are at Orana Park, in Christchurch.  The emu is not endangered, so there is no rearing program for them here, nor are they likely to be the subject of a research project.  They are kept at the park so that people can observe them behaving naturally in an outdoor, semi-wild environment.

The birds often pace up and down along the fence line emitting a booming sound.  It is mostly the females that produce this noise, while males make a grunting sound.  An inflatable throat pouch creates the booming, which if emitted at high intensity, may be heard up to 2 kilometres away. 

On hot days the staff turn on a hose to create a temporary pool in their enclosure, which the emus use for bathing.  They sit in the pool, immersing their feathers, then stand up and shake off the water.  Although they can’t fly, emus can run very fast.  They have powerful beaks, so visitors need to be wary of getting too close to the wire.  In the wild, they should not be approached, as powerful legs and feet can inflict a damaging kick.

Emus’ soft feathers are very attractive, so it can be tempting to stroke them.  However, this is probably not an impulse to give in to!

Gorillas

Orana Park, a wildlife facility here in Christchurch, recently acquired three male gorillas from Taronga Zoo in Sydney.  They are western lowland gorillas, endangered in their West African homeland, and are part of an international zoo-breeding program.  

The oldest, and largest, Fataki (12) is a silverback, dominant over his much smaller younger brothers, Fuzu and Mahali (7), who are nevertheless inclined to tease their elder brother.  They chase each other around the enclosure and beat their chests, hooting loudly.  In spite of these apparent displays of aggression, gorillas are generally peaceful animals unless seriously upset.  They are great fun to photograph, the challenge being to keep the building and other unnatural bits and pieces out of the image. 

It isn’t too hard to get a nice portrait, but capturing interaction between them is a little more difficult, and I don’t yet have anything I’m happy to post (watch this space).  A dark, or black subject is always challenging.  Because the jutting brows obscure the eyes I find that I have to work hard to see them clearly, but lightening ‘shadows’ in the raw file in Lightroom helps a lot.

A Wild Garden

I am fortunate to have plants growing naturally right on the doorstep here in our garden.  Although the original Marlborough daisies were planted here, they now seed readily and new plants grow.  They often germinate in a crack in a rock, and the tap root burrows down through almost impenetrable substrate to source water an nutrients.

The Marlborough daisy (Pachystegia insignis) grows naturally on dry, exposed cliffs and rocky outcrops in the northeast of the South Island.  I converted this image to monochrome to emphasise the lightness of the seed heads.

Photographing where you live

I have heard several photographers say that the best photographs are often obtained not in exotic locations, but close to home, in the area where you live, that you know well.  I am fortunate to live on the edge of the city, on the hills, and with a large garden.  So there are ample opportunities for exercising my camera.  Today I am posting just two images, different interpretations of windy weather that we've experienced recently.

Banksia and Eucalyptus growing in a garden on the Port Hills, Christchurch.

I took the first photograph in our garden on a slow shutter speed to show movement in the wind.  The second is also from the garden, and shows the approach of a southerly front, and the clouds are moving rapidly.  The cabbage trees in the foreground are being blown violently by the wind. 

Southerly front approaching, Port Hills, Christchurch

I am not pretending that these are high quality images, but being on the spot enables me to try out different techniques when the weather cooperates.  In this way I hope to improve so that when I am travelling I am able to take advantage of opportunities that offer themselves.

Introducing Pol

I live in the South Island of New Zealand, an area with a small human population compared to its landmass.  I enjoy photography, but don’t call myself a photographer, as by training and profession I am an entomologist, with a former life as a secondary school physics teacher.  I have had a camera since I was a child, taking photographs mainly on trips and holidays.  Joining the Nature Photography Society of New Zealand (NPSNZ) in 2005 gave me the impetus to take photography more seriously.  Then just over a year ago I began posting daily images on Blipfoto, and this has helped me further develop my photography. 

My favourite shooting locations are mountains and deserts.  I am especially attracted to the national parks and other natural areas of western North America, where a camping and hiking lifestyle lends itself to my kind of photography.  At home in New Zealand I like to camp up high to take advantage of the morning and evening light without having to drive to places in the dark. 

I like to photograph landscapes, rocks, trees, flowers, mammals more than birds, lizards and occasionally insects.  My preferred approach is fast and light. To capture the moment during fast-changing lighting conditions, a moving animal, or plant blowing in the wind, I want to be instantly in the right place, ready to click the shutter, so I handhold my camera whenever possible.

The North American publication, ‘Outdoor Photographer’ is my favourite magazine, and the late Galen Rowell, one of its former columnists, was my early inspiration.  I still enjoy his work in the Mountain Light Gallery in Bishop, California.  I also appreciate many other photographers, but don’t have any particular favourites.