Photo: April 2021, Skovby, Als, Denmark.
At fotografere en spurvehøg — ved et held
En dag i marts, da jeg opholdt mig i køkkenet, lød der et højt bump fra et af vinduerne i stuen. Der er vinduer mod vejen og haven, så man kan kigge gennem stuen fra begge sider. Det ligner en flugtvej, hvis man er en fugl i panik. Det måtte være en fugl, der var fløjet imod en af ruderne ud mod vejen, selv om bumpet mere lød som en tennisbold fra en hidsigt servende John McEnroe.
Stakkels fugl. Jeg var hurtigt henne ved vinduet for at se, om jeg kunne stille noget op for offeret. Der var intet at se. Jeg trådte et par meter til siden for at kigge ud ad det næste vindue — og der! — på fliserne lige nedenfor — sad en meget imponerende Spurvehøg med kløerne i brystet på en stakkels Solsort. Hvis Solsorten ikke allerede var færdig efter sammenstødet med ruden, så var den i øjeblikket sekunder fra at dø af otte stiksår i brystkassen.
Spurvehøgen spejdede rundt med sine hypnotiske høgeøjne, og det gik op for mig, at selv om jeg kun stod 1,5 meter fra den, kunne den ikke se mig på grund af spejlingen i ruden.
Hvor er mit kamera?
Hvor er mit kamera! — var min første tanke. Det er aldrig langt fra mig. — Undtagen den dag.
Helt undtagelsesvis havde jeg efterladt fototasken i carporten og kunne ikke komme til den uden at forstyrre scenen.
Mens jeg baksede med mit gamle lommekamera, der lå til opladning, var fuglen fløjet — også fysisk.
Hvor uheldig kan man være. Meget uheldig måtte jeg konstatere. Jeg havde en perle af et billede på mine nethinder.
Og hvor ofte gentager en så speciel situation sig? — Efter mit statistiske gæt, ville den aldrig indtræffe igen.
Jeg venter ikke på rovfugle for at tage billeder af dem. Det har jeg ikke tålmodighed til. Efter to timer i et fotoskjul er jeg uforholdsmæssigt ældet. Jeg satser på heldet.
Nu ærgrede jeg mig gennem flere dage. For at få uheldet ud af kroppen fortalte jeg forskellige venner om det. De fleste ved, at min fototaske og jeg er uadskillelige. Jeg hævder altid at være forberedt på at tage det indiskutabelt skarpe billede af et UFO, og måske af det interessante indhold.
Held i uheld
Men, i marts-april 2021 må et eller andet være gået galt med den statistiske sandsynlighed, for omkring ti dage senere — ikke den 1. april, men 2. april — da min fototaske som sædvanligt var inden for rækkevidde — indtraf præcis samme hændelse igen!!!
Ikke bare nogenlunde tilsvarende. Det var som om, at det første hændelsesforløb blev genafspillet identisk.
Denne gang var jeg klar. Min Sony A7R3 med en Tamron 28–75 mm var i hænderne på mig i løbet af et par sekunder, og heller ikke denne gang ænsede høgen mig (muligvis samme fugl). Vantro kunne jeg knipse løs på klos hold, indtil jeg var sikker på at have mindst ét velfokuseret billede, hvor modellen viste sig fra sin bedste side.
Resultatet kender I allerede. Det er mit bedste fuglefoto til dato, sikkert for stedse. Det imponerer nok ingen, der jævnligt fotograferer rovfugle, men jeg vil næppe nogen sinde opnå et bedre billede af en Spurvehøg.
Denne gentagelse var et utroligt held i uheld. Jeg har sendt mere end én taknemmelig tanke i retning af universet, hvor både skæbnens ironi og Forsynet synes at holde til.
Og behøver jeg at nævne, at noget lignende aldrig havde overgået mig tidligere og indtil dato ikke har gentaget sig. Jeg lover at skrive en tilføjelse, hvis det usandsynlige indtræffer endnu en gang.
Photographing a Sparrowhawk — through a stroke of luck
One day in March, when I was in the kitchen, there was a loud bang from one of the windows in the living room. There are windows facing the road and the garden, so you can look through the living room from both sides. It looks like an escape route if you are a bird in panic. It must have been a bird that had flown against one of the panes facing the road, although the bump sounded more like a tennis ball from a furiously serving John McEnroe.
Poor bird. I quickly went to the window to see if I could put something up for the victim. There was nothing to see. I stepped a few meters to the side to look out the next window — and there! — on the tiles just below — sat a very impressive Sparrow Hawk with its claws in the chest of a poor Blackbird. If the Blackbird wasn’t already finished after the impact with the pane, she was currently seconds away from dying from eight stab wounds to the chest.
The sparrow hawk scouted around with its hypnotic hawk eyes, and it dawned on me that even though I was only 1.5 meters away from it, it couldn’t see me because of the reflection in the window.
Where is my camera?
Where’s my camera! — was my first thought. It is never far from me. — Except that day.
Quite exceptionally, I had left the photo bag in the carport and couldn’t get to it without disturbing the scene.
While I was fiddling with my old pocket camera that was being charged, the bird had flown — also physically.
How unlucky can you be. Very unfortunate I had to say. I had a gem of a picture on my retinas.
And how often does such a special situation repeat itself? — Based on my statistical guess, it would never happen again.
I don’t wait for raptors to take pictures of them. I don’t have the patience for that. After two hours in a photo hide I am disproportionately aged. I bet on the good fortune.
Now I resented it for several days. To get the accident out of my body, I told various friends about it. Most people know that my photo bag and I are inseparable. I am claiming to always be prepared to take that indisputably sharp picture of a UFO, and maybe of the interesting content.
A blessing in disguise
But, in March-April 2021, something must have gone wrong with the statistical probability, because about ten days later — not April 1st, but April 2nd — when my photo bag was within reach as usual — exactly the same event occurred again!!!
Not just roughly equivalent. It was as if the first sequence of events was replayed identically.
This time I was ready. My Sony A7R3 with a Tamron 28–75mm was in my hands in a few seconds, and this time the hawk paid no attention to me either (possibly the same bird). In disbelief, I could snap away at random until I was sure I had at least one well-focused photo where the model was at her best.
You already know the result. This is my best bird photo to date, probably for ever. It probably won’t impress anyone who regularly photographs birds of prey, but I’m unlikely to ever get a better picture of a Sparrowhawk.
This repeat was an incredible stroke of luck. I have sent more than one grateful thought in the direction of the universe where both the irony of fate and providence seem to reside.
And need I mention that something similar had never happened to me before and to date has not happened again. I promise to write an amendment if the unlikely happens once more.