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Photography looks glamorous… until you realise most of it happens between emails, invoices, phone calls, and mild existential dread.
People see the final image and think it’s all sunsets, safari hats, and dramatic slow-motion shutter clicks. Ja right. What they don’t see is the daylight grind… the calls, the admin, the “yes I’ll send the quote again” conversations. Photography, like biltong, is mostly prep with a tiny bit of magic at the end.
So there I am… phone glued to my ear, pacing like a XPN Nutrition pre-workout fuelled meerkat because sitting still while talking is simply not an option. Half brain on business, half brain on the universe… when boom. There it is. Something you do not expect to see casually chilling on a suburban neighbour’s roof like it owns the place.
An African Harrier-Hawk!
Right there. In the suburbs. Not Kruger. Not Kgalagadi. Next door. Like it popped over to borrow sugar.
He looked a bit… off. Slightly wonky. And then he turned, and the penny dropped. Broken leg. One “weapon” of talons out of action. Which, for a bird whose feet are basically medieval weapons, is a serious problem. This oke is hunting at half strength… which means he’s probably hungry, grumpy, and not in the mood for nonsense.
Camera? Office. Me? Sprinting. Phone call? Forgotten.
I grab the camera, swing back outside, and start firing frames. And because nature loves drama, cue the neighbourhood air force. Another bird clocks him and loses its mind. Full aerial outrage. “You don’t belong here, bru.”
Harrier-Hawk? Not phased. Gets up, flaps off to a palm tree like a pirate heading for loot. Suddenly there’s a lot of drama. Feathers. Noise. A full-on nature documentary soundtrack kicking off in my street.
He hunts. Misses. Slips. Almost drops out the tree like a drunk uncle at a wedding. Wings save him. He glides closer… lands… pauses… shuffles his feathers… carefully points that broken leg somewhere sensible… and then, gone.
All of it. Ninety seconds. Maybe less.
And that’s the thing. This is why photographers never stop looking. Not when working. Not when talking. Not when life is busy. Because the shot doesn’t care about your schedule. It arrives unannounced, uninvited, and disappears if you blink.
Miss it… and it’s just another roof.
Catch it… and it’s a story.