Sometimes, amid all the bustle and invoices and editing and working, we forget whey we went to photography in he first place. We forget what it is that makes us stick with it, year after year, struggling to learn, to improve, and to succeed. But then a moment comes along that reminds us, and we fall in love anew, with the camera and with the art.

It’s that moment – the moment it clicks, to borrow a phrase from McNally – that makes the struggle worth while. Now I’m sure that for some people, sometimes, it’s a huge moment, some epic photo in an exotic situation. But I find that for me, those moments are quiet, subtle events. Instead of screaming for attention, they whisper.

So it was last night, yet another in a series of glorious summer evenings we’ve been having in NEPA, where the sun has set in cloudless skys painted with deep shades of changing colors. I was out with the new telephoto hoping to try it out on songbirds at the usual place. 

Except there were no birds to be found. Not a one. The Red-winged Blackbirds are no longer in the reeds, the swarms of Tree Swallows no longer fill the sky, and the Bluebirds have vanished. I assume this is yet another lesson in my wildlife photography learning curve, but nevertheless it was disappointing. I went back up the road to a small town park, where I could sit on a bench on a floating dock and watch the pond.

As the sun went below the hills, and most of the other people had gone, a Great Blue Heron flew in and alighted on my side of the pond. He was a bit out of range, but as I watched from the dock, he began moving along the shore, sometimes in the water, sometimes up on the grass. As he hunted, he moved closer and closer, eventually crossing the path that leads to the dock – so close that 300mm became too much zoom. And that’s a problem I’ve never had before!

In the failing light I had to push the ISO past 800, which isn’t something I like to do. But between that and the IS feature on the lens, I managed to take 146 shots of the Heron as he walked and hunted and ate fish. A number of those shots came out well.

That was one of those moments when it clicks. When I remember why I carry a camera with me, when I’m so very thankful that I did bring it with me, that I did stop at the park after my earlier disappointment, that I did sit there long enough for the Heron to come. It was one of those moments that makes me fall in love with photography all over again.