We met in Heathrow airport, and continued our trip together. First bird pictures we took in Heathrows Central bus station, by using a bait. But we have to stop it, because feeding of the pigeons were not allowed. Marcus did got a real keeper pigeon shot with manual focus and 14-24mm wide angle.

Some hours of traveling, and then Pete picked us up at Inverness airport. Day one turned to evening, but we did go to take some landscape shots of Scottish ice in sunset.

The main subject of the day two was the ptarmigan. In the morning, we packed our stuffs to Pete’s Range rover and headed to the mountains.

Lots of walking to mountains, and lots of sweating. But we managed to find ptarmigans to photograph! Altough they were little more timid than usual. Maybe because of the weather?

We also saw lots of red grouses, but they were even much more timid than the ptarmigans. But we managed to got some red grouse images also!

Birds, but also mammals… Pete founded a mountain hare, and so we got couple of mountain hare images. Maybe we have couple of mountain hare images more at tomorrow, because the mountain hare is the main subject of the day three!

Janne & Marcus / for Wild Wonders of Europe

15th June 2009 – Introduction

Wild Wonders of Europe has brought me to Macedonia to photograph “small things” in Galičica National Park, a spectacular mountain range rising to 2254 m between Lake Ohrid to the west and Lake Prespa to the east. These stunning lakes sit high in this mountain range, with Prespa at 850m and Ohrid at 693m, and the feeling, colour, weather systems, insects, amphibians, and reptiles all changed according to which slope or lakeside on which you were standing.

However, one thing was clear – this was a spectacularly beautiful part of Europe.

The drive from Skopje airport down the length of this small country some 400km or so to our first stop at the small lakeside village of Lagadin was spectacular – Mountains of emerald green trees, pasture and farm land being tended by hand – tall grass meadows were being scythed by families - children, mothers and fathers. “Mel” said the signs selling honey at the roadside, Lombardy poplars climbing through the hot air into blue skies. Macedonia was looking more and more like “Europe’s best kept secret!”

We were lucky to arrive just as the wildflowers were reaching their peak - I am overwhelmed by their spectacular display and by the attendant clouds of butterflies. Life is everywhere. I unpack the camera gear and walk to the lakeside to take a closer look - Lake Ohrid is teaming with fish beneath the water and dragonflies above – great subjects for a first day’s work.

Lagadin is nestled on the east side of Lake Ohrid in the west of Galičica National Park we watch awe-struck as the sun sets slowly over the mountain range on the far side of the lake.

Visit again to see how the mission progresses.

David Maitland / Wild Wonders of Europe

My final mission for Wild Wonders of Europe was to visit the most famous Gannet colony in the UK, Bass Rock. The Bass is situated in the firth of forth on the East Coast of Scotland. This colony is one the world’s largest with over 150,00 birds visiting during the breeding season.

The Gannet colony on the Bass has more than doubled its number in a twenty five year period from just over twenty thousand pairs to nearly fifty thousand breeding pairs  - an amazing explosion in numbers. It’s so different from all the other Gannet colonies in the UK because most of the others are situated on remote outer lying islands that take hours to get too, but Bass Rock is only just over a mile from the mainland and you can actually see the birds flying around.

This was supposed to be the easier of the three colonies that I was going to visit for my missions for Wild Wonders of Europe and so I was more relaxed about getting to this spectacular Island. I had already made contact with the Scottish Seabird Centre in North Berwick about getting permission to land and I was really grateful to Maggie Sheddan for all her effort throughout the project. Maggie was a tremendous help in organising the boat to get me out there and without her this part of the project would have failed.
This was my biggest mistake in the project because I thought it would be easy to get on the Bass but in the end my jinx with Islands and boats came back to haunt me. I had to wait for a window of opportunity in the weather again but this time I could wait from the comfort of my own home because I could be up there on days notice ( luxury indeed ).

The weather forecast was good for a few days so a couple of phone calls and six hours later I was at North Berwick. I wanted to get some images of the Rock from the mainland and the weather was fantastic and I was greeted with the most amazing sunrise as it rose just over this special place, phase one, job done. Now I just wanted to get on the island for the evening and everything was going to plan but right up to just an hour before we were due to go out the wind had picked up and the skipper of the boat didn’t want to risk taking me out as it would have been too dangerous to land, frustrating again because the weather was fantastic and I had planned to get some evocative images of the Gannets just as the sun would set, the only place in the UK where I know how.

This is where Maggie came into her own and a round of phone calls later she had arranged for me to be out there at dawn with a different boat. It wasn’t too much of a disaster either because I did manage to get the shot of the Bass with the rising moon as well that evening (phase two complete or was that phase three).

At 4.00 am the next morning we had arranged to meet the skipper of a fishing vessel that would take us out to Bass Rock. It was still dark when we left but by the time we had got to the island dawn was upon us and the sight, sound and smell that greeted us was awesome, a truly memorable experience.

The other locations I had visited were earlier on in the season so I was getting displaying and nest building shots of the Gannets, for this trip I had timed it so I would be getting images of the adults with their young chicks. The chicks were of various ages and some were not far off from fledging and others still had the white downy plumage, it was these that were far more appealing, so I concentrated on these. The Gannets have one of the longest breeding seasons out of all the seabirds around UK waters which lasts from late January to late October and I was surprised at the difference in ages between many of the young.

I have to say that being amongst a gannet colony whilst the breeding season is in full swing is one the most amazing experiences to witness in nature and if you haven’t done it then make sure you do. I have had some ups and downs on my little mission to cover this beautiful and graceful seabird, but the memories will stay for a life time. Bass Rock certainly deserves and lives up to its reputation of one the true natural wonders of the world.

Danny Green / Wild Wonders of Europe

During the sperm whale mission I found myself among many interesting inhabitants of the pelagic Atlantic Ocean. Occasionally these guys distracted me and became “attention-magnets”, as sperm whales were my main targets. But most of the time these ”non sperm whales” were a blessing for my brain and camera while I was waiting for sperm whales gone fishing. So let me introduce ”Zone pelagia” of the Azores.

Out there in the big Atlantic the greatest feeling is ”being small” in a world of constant change. Some days she rocks the boat gently as holding a newborn and just an hour later the powerful twin engines of the boat roar like dinosaurs in the merciless waves. Seeking shelter in the port of Lajes is the only sensible thing to do. We are humans, no more, no less, and the important sensation of being small, a part of a big picture, willing to adapt – is something I like.

Heading out the first day I got excited to see a Portuguese Man o’ War, Physalia physalis, sailing in the blue waves. This strange jellyfish is a great photo-subject so I pointed it out to Joao and he gave me one of those crooked smiles. ”Yes, I know Magnus. The filmmaker from History channel got severely burnt last week in his face. It was baaad and he cried like a baby!” Ehh…OK, was all I could say. Joao continued to rub it in. ”After that he used ladies nylon stockings over his face like a bank-robber as protection but never became really comfortable in the water again.”
At this point I raised my eyes not only to see one PMOW jellyfish. They were everywhere sailing around like small armadas of Portuguese stinging warships. My mouth got a bit drier and a sort of minefield feeling came creeping along my spine. This was happening 10 minutes into the first day out. My brain stopped trying to get used to the waves and started to calculate risks. The equation of swimming in full power mode to gain position in front of a whale while being careful and watching out for an armada of burning micro ships resulted in a red light blinking in my brain. I told myself  ”This will at least keep me alert, or maybe terrified is the correct word.” Then my mind drifted into thoughts on my insurance company’s policy around medical treatment in Portugal?

The number of jellyfish stayed high for three days but I luckily managed to swim through these minefields without incidents. Another surprise linked to the jellies was the number of sea turtles swimming around. In fact these loggerhead sea turtles, Caretta caretta, are common in the open sea around the Azores. I even witnessed a loggerhead eating, yes it is true, a spicy PMOW jellyfish. I know their tough skin protects them against the stings but to swallow one of the fiercest stingers in the sea is pretty harsh. The loggerheads do not only have an out-of-the-ordinary hot menu, they are also fantastic free divers. They can stay underwater for up to 7 hours. Although outdone by freshwater turtles, these are the longest dives for any air-breathing marine vertebrate.

The Azores is famous for the spectacular and numerous dolphins around the islands. The common dolphins form the biggest pods and being quite easy to approach they quickly became my personal favorite. We cruised along them, dived with them or just hung out with them. The shorter and more explosive striped dolphins were more difficult and always on the move, and the odd Rissos look like a tattooed beluga whale. After a few days the joyful Atlantic spotted dolphins made their arrival for the season and this was like a salute that summer had arrived, for sure, to the Azores. For half a day we had a group of sturdy and tough bottlenose dolphins following “our” pod of 9 sperm whales making them nervous and unapproachable in the water.

Another species we encountered and dived with regularly were the jet-black short-finned pilot whales, Globicephala macrorhynchus. They gather in big pods, more than 60 individuals, and are known as the ”Cheetahs of the deep” due to high-speed pursuits of squids at depths of hundreds of metres. These fascinating animals belong to the dolphins family and to swim with the pilot whales is an exciting and very tiring experience.

There are not only dolphins and whales in the sea outside Pico. This dynamic place was showing a fantastic variety of shapes, colours and skills among the inhabitants - jelly fish, schooling mackerels and sardines, cruising sei whales, sneaky beaked whales, breaching sperm whales and many, many sea birds all looking for food. Even human garbage like ropes, buoys and barrels become floating reefs completely covered in filter feeding barnacles and creating food platforms for clinging crabs, nudibranchs and shrimps. Solitary or schooling fish associate with these floating filter feeding “objects”. One of the most spectacular fish, in my opinion, around is the small and striking red boarfish, Capros aper. Science suggests these fish only live below a depth of 40 meters but I frequently met small schools around floating items at depths less than one 1 meter.

One interesting thing to look out for in the sea is relationships between very different species. One good example was when the common dolphins were hunting mackerels in the waves and the Cory’s shearwaters were doing the same from the top. This seemed to be a win-win situation for bird and dolphin but very much a loose-loose for the mackerels that were eaten until the very last fish.  This elimination took only 3-4 minutes and was a well-executed team effort.

The strangest animal I met in the Azorean blue was the weird ocean sunfish, Mola mola. We encountered this massive fish on three different occasions. It is actually known to be the biggest bonefish on earth with an average adult weight of more than 1 ton! Just like the loggerhead turtle the Mola mola likes spicy food and is also eating the jelly fish Portuguese Man o’ War. This fish has a huge round flat body with two big fins, small mouth and big eyes. The big surprise for me was its swimming speed….or maybe it was just me being slow.

All I can say is: the middle of the sea is a stunning place to be! Last blog coming soon describing the dynamic coastal marine life of the island next to Pico called Faial and the distant outer bank Princesa Alice. Stay tuned.

Magnus Lundgren / Wild Wonders of Europe

[The sea is a humongous place covering 71% of the earth and the average depth is almost 4 kilometers. The pelagic sea is by definition any water that is not close to the bottom. So on a geometrical scale the proportions of this world are cosmic bearing in mind that different light and temperature zones create different layers of habitats. The sunlit zone is called the epipelagic zone that is exposed to enough sunlight for photosynthesis to happen. In the open sea this means from the surface to a depth of maximum 200 meters depending on water clarity.]

It would be a mistake to reduce the Pollino National Park down to the Pinus leucodermis.

Of course, it is the recognisable symbol but the park has much more to offer. In the evening we love standing on the Piano di Sopra looking out over the wide landscape and watching how the sunset slowly changes the view of the mountain ranges and vibrantly yellow hills.

Tall shadows spread across the landscape. Rays of light find their way through the clouds and illuminate single spots of the landscape like spotlights. Then as the light dwindles further the unreal candy coloured clouds start to fade, and as darkness sets thousands of spots of light coming from settlements and single farms start glimmering in the valley. The scenery lies sleeping, only the cold wind whistles its same old song.

When an inclement weather front bringing bad weather arrives, the low hanging clouds become entangled with the sap green beech forests of the mountain slopes. Grey mist wraps around the lichen-covered tree trunks and changes the view from one second to the next. Colours and shapes start to blur just like an aquarelle painting – fleeting, magical moments.

In the last days we spoke to locals and visitors about the opportunities the National Park offers to the region. Naturally, this is a controversial topic which could be discussed for nights on end. Nature conservation in its essence is not possible without the cooperation of the people who live in the region. They have to be integrated and they need to be given possibilities to co-exist with the Park. Prejudices need to be eradicated and it is probably also necessary to reopen the locals’ eyes to the beauty and uniqueness of nature. But it is just as important to remember the traditions and understanding of nature of past generations and to recognise oneself as a part of nature’s very complex balance. The Pollino National Park is in a region of Italy where it is not easy, particularly for young people, to find their own way due to the combination of traditional life, family expectations and the desire for self-realisation. The project “Arte Pollino” is an initiative between private and public institutions and artists who try to create change through the running of different projects. Art work shops, installations, music and theatre projects are designed to help integrate local people and draw international attention to the region.

We believe it is vital that the existing infrastructure for national and international visitors is improved. Although there is no lack of decent hotels, agriturismos, refugios, guides and restaurants offering the famous Mediterranean cuisine in this unique landscape full of beauty, a network bundling all of these different offerings for visitors is missing. Unbelievable but true – there is not a single detailed map of the region showing the different mountain and village paths. This can easily give tourists the impression that they are not welcome. Official hiking trails are almost non-existent and if you find some they are badly marked. This is where the administration of the National Park needs to take initiative in addition to self-government to make the park more accessible to foreigners by installing official hiking paths and issuing a map that shows more than just the surrounding motorways. Nature needs to be experienced in order to establish a connection with it.

The Pollino region has not always made it easy for us as nature photographers, but there are many special moments of the past trips that will be part of our memories forever. We met very open, sincere and down to earth people and we hope they will have the courage and strength to add a few more chapters to the 1,000 year history of the pines of the Monte Pollino, Serra Dolcedorme and Serra di Crispo.

http://www.parcopollino.it
http://www.viaggiarenelpollino.com
http://www.artepollinobasilicata.it

Claudia Müller & Sandra Bartocha / Wild Wonders of Europe

We drove the first thousand kilometres in our small, black bolt of lightning, a Fiat Cinquecento, across roads, bumpy country tracks and gravel paths – despite struggling with one or two steep mountain slopes.

We set off from the Sibillini Mountains north-east of Rome to return to the Pollino National Park in South Italy.

We spent the past hours sitting under the ancient pine trees of the Piano di Pollino philosophising about whether photographic motifs can exist whose intensity and character cannot be captured in images. We have been waiting for the weather to stabilise so that we can make our way to the plateau to finally stand among the legendary Pini loricati (cuirassed pine), those trees which we so far only knew from the images of other photographers and whose distinctive silhouette can be found on company logos and restaurant signs all around the region.

We wanted to get an impression of the Serra di Crispo, Serra delle Ciavole and Grande Porta del Pollino. Now we are roaming from tree to tree, admiring their unique shape and stroking their bark to feel their scars, originating from etched-in initials and blows of axes.

The drawback of stable weather conditions is that you cannot take any successful photos during the day as the light is too harsh. From to time to time we stop, set up the camera and stand, choose the perspective and composition and then wait for clouds to appear from the valley. Clouds that get caught in between the gigantic trees give the image depth and help dissolve the contours of these imposing pines, but none of the images taken quite seem to capture the distinctive character, the soul of these ancient trees. Our photos do not reflect our emotions, but this is what the art of photography is about - achieving more than purely documenting situations. It should transfer emotions, felt by the photographer when the photo is taken, to the viewer. Photography is a constant search for a particular instant, a special moment that is worth being isolated and captured before it is over forever.

We find plenty of detail, structure and mythical creatures in the bark but they are always only fragments. One of the visions that we brought with us on this journey was one of meadows covered in delicate, yellow and violet orchids and the magnificent pine trees in the background. We saw an image similar to this in the archive of our guide Giuseppe. But a herd of wild horses and a hailstorm ruined our dreams as they destroyed the sea of flowers. Although the flowers managed to survive the former, the hailstorm took care of the rest of the delicate flowers.

The Pollino National Park, Italy’s largest nature reserve was founded in 1993 to protect the region’s wild and partly unexplored nature with its pine trees, which are unique for this part of Europe. They grow on the steep and rocky slopes of the plateau between Calabria and Basilicata. The idea of protecting the region’s nature is not always welcomed by locals, there is also fear. And that’s why from time to time one of these up to 1,000 year-old trees is not only struck by lightning, but goes up in flames and leaves its silver-black skeleton stretching into the sky.

The bark of young trees is light grey, which is reflected in its Latin name “Pinus leucodermis”. The bark of older trees show an irregular, round structure, so called “loriche”, remembering the ancient Roman cuirasses. During their almost 1,000-year-old life the trees can grow up to 40 metres tall and some of them reach a diametre of more than one metre. Because of the high resin content of its fibres their tree trunks and branches are able to withstand the fierce winds and weather of these heights and over time this creates their unique shape, turning them into tree ornaments of amazing beauty.

Suddenly low clouds start pushing their way through the mountain range. Strong winds tear the clouds apart and it starts to rain. It is time for us to pack up our equipment at this 2,000m height and begin our descent into the valley. The heavy rains of the past days have soaked and blurred the mountain paths. Our aim is to reach more accessible passages before complete darkness arrives. We are leaving a place that does not seem to be of this world.

Claudia Müller & Sandra Bartocha / Wild Wonders of Europe

It is my first diving day of three weeks in the Azores and I look at the sea from the RIB in the harbour of Lajes do Pico. It is great to be here in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and she is dressed in sparkling silver this day. Joao is fixing something back in the boat like skippers always do. Marianne, my assistant, is rigging all the stuff and finding ways to set up all cameras and boxes safely for a trip to the big sea.

We are going out to search the blue where the surface is the main reference and where it is 2 km deep. In a sensible way it is almost an absurd endeavor. First to find them, then jump into the ocean with them and then try to spend time with one of mother earth’s superheroes. It is touching the border of the unreal and it is of course exactly what I want to do. I am wrestling to get into the ”open cell” free diving suit I will be wearing every day. It is a bugger to put on. Early morning in Pico is surprisingly cold and specially as I have covered my entire naked skin in soap. This makes it easier to enter a suit with raw neoprene rubber on the inside. Joao is smiling at me in his warm skippers ”survivor suit”.

During these WWoE assignments I have developed an expertise in the art of freezing. A little bit like the Eskimos and the snow, I have at least a hundred different expressions for freezing - simply because there is at least a hundred different ways to freeze. This morning it is the ”early morning-soap and oily harbour water-putting on the free diving suit” chill. I utter a squeaky ”iiiiiiiiaaaaa” rather than the more normal uncomfortable ”ouuuuhaaaa” when freezing.

My thoughts drift to the pods of social leviathans out there while I still battle with the suit. The sperm whale is the biggest toothed animal on earth. A gargantuan animal with close to supernatural powers but they also live in complex social groups and their ways are not yet fully understood. One thing is understood though - me, a human free diver, will try to photograph the greatest diver ever seen, in its own element. I smile at the fact that a sperm whale can dive to 3000 meters for duration of up to 90 minutes on one breath of air. This perspective is dismissed by my brain as not productive and I just keep getting into my suit. The struggle makes me a bit warmer.
We set out. The boat is fast and we get a report from our vigia, Sidonio, via mobile where the action is right now. He is sitting in a tower on Pico scanning the sea with his ultra sharp eyes in a pair of binoculars and Joao looks at me and just says “Sperms”. Joao and Sidonio are in constant contact for a while and we find the right area. At a first glance the sea seems vast, empty and endless. But in reality it is on the contrary. It is full of distractions like dolphins, baleen whales, flying fish, turtles, pelagic fish (maybe even in bait balls), the great sunfish, hunting birds and much more. We have to stay in focus with the main target – sperm whales.
The first pod, 8 or 9 whales, does not let us approach. We struggle this day and the sperm whales we find are wary. Joao reads their behavior before we approach closer. No pod seems to be ready for in-water encounter but we keep looking all day. It is almost time to go back after 6 hours in the waves when a group shows a change in their behavior. “Get ready” is like sweet music in my ears. I slip into the great wide-open sea and in just a few minutes I find myself in front of nine sperm whales. They are traveling slowly on the surface. I stop, quickly look at the boat far way. Joao, my eye in the sky, is showing the sign stop and looks ahead. 9 huge whales start to visualize at the border of visibility. They swim side by side straight at me. I stop my movements and relax in the water and enjoy the view through the viewfinder. They are 10 meters away, still cruising, 5 meters away, 4, 3, now they all dip down and pass in slow slow motion under me.

They are all close together and now they are looking at me, scanning the little flipper man, with those long fins and a big shiny eye in the front. They almost freeze, briefly, and then slowly continue to pass under me. I stay in place knowing that swimming after them is a waste of time. It was a big group, in tight formation, a big start and some really happy frames. A slow day had just turned into a great day. This is typical for blue water shoots. I always have to be more than ready and the peak of action is almost always sudden and in short bursts.

So we set out like this every morning with the suit wrestling in the harbour and good hope. - This will be the best sperm whale day in my life, was my every day mantra. I even got a couple of ”best sperm whale days in my life” and all the other days had some special and unique happenings. After 14 free diving days my gathered material was by far exceeding my expectations. I was done and everything was in the box and the time to proceed to Faial for one week of scuba diving for marine life images was there.
So why I decided to take that extra day before moving to Faial I am not sure. Maybe it was the opening weather, maybe it was the numbers of sperm whales very close to shore, maybe it was that fantastic espresso with cinnamon that evening, or maybe it was just a lucky gut feeling. Even if I was flat out tired I booked an extra day out at sea instead of packing and getting organized to transfer to the neighboring island.

“D-day”

That day turned out to be something that not even my vivid fantasy could create. The first two morning hours the surface was dead flat. A mirror. No relaxing sperms reported from the vigia tower so we found a huge school of pilot whales to work with. This day was different than the days before with them. The pilots were super relaxed. All animals (sperm whales, pilot whales and Risso’s and common dolphins) were close to shore and my theory is that they all had full stomachs after an early morning squid feast. Even the big pilot whale bulls let me swim close to the little ones. I spent hours in the water with them until my legs felt like two stiff logs and my camera started to blink ”full”.
I surfaced with a metallic taste in my mouth and it felt like I was spitting blood. Exhausted. It was almost a relief that the pod took off when I reloaded a new CF card in the boat. I drank a lot of water, caught my breath, re-rigged the UW-camera when the sperm whale bonanza started. Three whales surfaced dramatically ”out of the blue” next to the boat. They came in high speed from the deep creating a surprise burst of water. I almost dropped one camera as these big animals literally flew up in the air when surfacing. I got organized, got in and swam with these deep divers and they were relaxed, approachable and maybe happy with full stomachs. Joao signaled to me another big group not far away. Maybe 9 or 10 and their behavior told us straight away that they were relaxing big time and enjoying their time together. Socializing whales – let’s relocate!
They had for sure no feeding on their agenda. The wind was picking up a little bit and Joao put me in the water very far away from them, up wind. I slowly drifted towards the group. They had stopped moving at all and I drifted into a group of slumbering giants. Most of them standing head up, some head down. The biggest one, maybe 15 meters long, was now just two meters away looking at me. Minutes passed and her head-up position made her a bit more approachable. Then she closed her eye as if going to sleep. While eyes shut she surfaced in head up position and blew her lungs clean right beside me. The sound was just awesome and made all my limbs feel like jellyfish. Water sprinkled over me like rain.
I spent 50 minutes together with the whales. They were acting like they were resting in each other’s company. They were completely silent, most of them hovering, but some swam momentarily under me, up to me, away from me. And I swam around amongst them. They just let me be there. I ended up at some point far down current and quickly lost contact with the group. It was over. I left the bubble, the time capsule, their world. Straight away it felt like a dream. I have to admit it is my best-spent 50 minutes in a neoprene suit.

When Joao and Marianne picked me up they just smiled from ear to ear from the boat. I remember getting up and we all looked at each other. Nobody says anything for a moment. Then Joao goes – Magnus that was something! Then we just laughed. My arms were still a bit jellified but I managed to change CF card again and swapped to the fisheye lens to have a 180-degree diagonal coverage. I found the 12 mm I had on was not wide enough on some occasions. We waited for a while and then I did another drop almost ashamed to ask for more. We did the same thing, starting far way, and then drift in with the wind.

It was like deja vu with a turbo. They slept, relaxed, played and I was allowed in again. I fired away with the 10,5 mm fisheye lens. It was a deeper experience this time as I could take in the scene and enjoy, actually think, see and be constructive in a more aware way. They let me spend almost another hour with them. For a long period of time I let the camera fall to my right side and rest. This is an unusual Magnus behavior but I had to enjoy this privilege outside the viewfinder.
Overwhelming is not strong enough but I leave it there. Even if I assume it was for real, and I have many images to prove it to my left side of the brain, it is still distant like a dream. I am sorry to sound ”new age” but this experience changed me in some sort of way. As long as I can reach that feeling I had during these two hours through my memory I will always be able to smile.

I was able to make the sperm whale images with the help of very professional people. Serge, Joanna and Marianne and many more in their company were all a part of making this happen through top knowledge, skills and correct procedures. Most of all I have to give my regards to the whales, of course, but also to my fantastic skipper and friend Joao Quaresma. His ability to read the whales’ behavior and to make the shoot on their terms makes these images worth even more. You have my greatest respect for this. Thank You!

There will be two more blogs coming from the Azores. Next one, Blog 2, showing the other players of the pelagic zone – my distracters! The third one will be about the dynamic marine life around Faial and the outer bank Princesa Alice. They are coming soon. Hope you stay tuned.

Best fishes!
Magnus Lundgren / Wild Wonders of Europe

While most species are migrating north in spring, I flew south to Andalucia in late April, driven by the need to photograph rather than breed. In planning an itinerary for this spring, I thought of southern Spain as a famous, top-class restaurant where you know the menu is fabulous, although never quite what will be on it.

And it was with a hearty appetite that I turned up at the door of my hosts, Jesus Morales and Maria Solano, in the coastal city of Huelva.
Jesus and Maria are of that engaging breed of people whose effortless hospitality (extended in my case to a near stranger) not only helps to make a trip productive but enjoyable too. Ahead of my visit, Jesus (Hey-zous) had arranged with friends at the Marismas del Odiel nature reserve to provide assistance in locating my “favourite dish” for this trip – the (dubiously named) common chameleon. I suspect that relatively few northern Europeans know that we share the continent with this exotic reptile and still fewer visitors to the Mediterranean are likely to see them, even if looking hard.

Accompanied by the reserve ranger, Enrique,  Jesus and I spent several hours this morning and afternoon scouring Retama monosperma bushes – the favoured habitat in this area – for the reptiles. Conditions were favourable: the temperature was in the high 20’s, the wind quite light and there was a larder full of insects for a hungry chameleon. Less than two months ago, when the Retama was in flower, Enrique had seen many baby chameleons in the first area we checked, just beside a busy highway. I could almost smell chameleon wafting from the kitchen.
But I was to stay hungry. We looked thoroughly over three areas with plentiful Retama, but not a scale was to be seen. It was a bit like arriving, ravenous, at the restaurant, only to be told that it was the chef’s day off.

24th April. Another sunny day in Spain. The received wisdom suggested that there was no point in looking for chameleons until the oven was hot so we drove to a pine wood near Cartaya just after breakfast. When we had visited yesterday (to photograph one of the three remaining charcoal makers in Andalucia at work), I had seen not only my first woodchat shrikes, bee-eaters and azure winged magpies, but had also noticed some wild gladiolus. This morning, we found a more impressive stand of them just where a spring made the ground a little damper. This was just the sort of place where the field studio comes into its own – a tangle of bushes that would have made it impossible to find a clear background for a conventional picture.

Stopping to admire the bee-eaters on our way back (one can’t simply “watch” a bee-eater), two hoopoes landed near our car. On the ground, the bird’s short legs give it an eager, columbine gait not quite befitting the sophistication and extravagance of its plumage. One proceeded to dust bathe, its crest erect like an Aztec head-dress put on in a hurry.
By now the day was baking and once again we scoured the Retama bushes where we had looked the previous day. But chameleon remained off the menu. With cooler, windier weather forecast for the following two days, I got the distinct feeling I was going to go home hungry.

25th April. It was not another sunny day in Spain. And when we saw how the Retama bushes were blowing about, I pictured a frustrated chameleon trying to shoot its tongue out at cricket as predator and prey swayed to and fro. That didn’t make me feel any more hopeful. Furthermore it was cool enough now to wear a fleece – a sure biological indicator of inactivity amongst poikilothermic creatures (and those without access to fleeces). Jesus and I once again scrutinised the bushes at the first site beside the main road as we waited for Maria to join us for lunch. We greeted her with long faces. Since she was wearing sun glasses, it wasn’t possible to see if she cast her eyes upwards at the inability of men to find things, but within two minutes, she had called us across to the chameleon she found about 2 metres up in a Retama bush, 1.5 metres from the pavement - and 5 metres from our car.

I suspect that the reptile, far from being distressed about being moved a short distance on to the field studio, felt some of the relief a sailor feels having descended safely from the crow’s nest in a storm. Dark lines and spots soon paled, suggesting if not a happy chameleon (how can you guess at the mood of any animal whose eyes look in opposite directions?), certainly a resigned one that was just going to get on with it until put back in its bush. The pictures made and animal at home again, I sat stunned by my luck – as if not only had the temperamental chef turned up but I had been served the very last portion of my favourite dish. A small portion it might have been – no matter how many photos you take, there will always be one or two better than all the rest – but it was a delicious moment nevertheless.

And so to a late lunch. I love the creativity of people who can bring their work into the ordering of a meal. Jesus suggested that we should eat our way through the marine water column starting with pelagic anchovies, followed by demersal hake and finishing with benthic plaice. This was lunch and a lesson in marine biology all at once. Still savouring our success with the chameleon, I confessed that would really love a scolopendra as “dessert”. Most visitors to Heulva want to see the Monasterio de Santa Maria de la Rabida where Columbus sought support for his search for a western route to India, or the life-size replicas of his ships, Santa Maria, La Nina and La Pinta – not Europe’s largest, venomous centipede. Frankly, I wasn’t too keen on meeting one either but it was on my wanted list so I suppressed an instinctive wariness of creatures with more than four legs (and the scolopendra has a lot more) and prepared the gear for the evening.

We decided that the best prospect of finding one was in the over-grown garden of a property that Jesus and Maria own just outside Huelva. I’m sorry to say that I caused many ants to wonder if the end of the world had come as I gingerly eased up flat stones, flooding their communities with light for a moment before lowering the stone back into its impression. And when I edged one up to see an instantly recognisable brown and black body, I quickly lowered it again. I wasn’t going to let this fellow get away and needed to get the collecting tub into position- and to compose myself. I tried to remember if there were any clauses in my travel insurance pertaining to venomous centipedes: they do tend to be quite comprehensive these days. I needn’t have worried: with a little direction from the soft paint brush I use to handling invertebrates the scolopendra was on set in no time. Considering this is an animal that, when not terrorising curious, stone-turning children, spends most of its time in dark places, the white set was probably a bit of an adventure. Employing some scolopendra psychology, Jesus simply covered its head to calm it, and as soon as the cover was moved, I had a few seconds to photograph before the animal realised that its adventure was not over yet. When it was, we parted with little more affection for each other than at the start.

26th April. Today was Columbus / Colon day and Jesus and I went where people normally go when they come to Huelva.

For our last evening, we decided to drive to the western fringes of the famous Coto Donana National Park, centred on the delta of the Guadalquivir.  Although we were just outside the park, we were within the same ecosystem and the sense of abundant life was palpable. But most curious and beautiful of all was a strange, unintentional duet between a hoopoe and a collared dove, two different languages sung in harmony, one resonating with the other.

Niall Benvie / Wild Wonders of Europe

The capercaillie is just one of those birds. There are others of course but the ‘caper’ just oozes attitude and charisma in equal measure. It is so much a part of Europe’s Wild Wonders that we just had to nail it. But capers are no easy bird to photograph - they are secretive, shy and live in the vast forests of the north.

So Wild Wonders hatched a plan. We sent several photographers to different locations to give us the best chance of cool caper shots - a kind of insurance plan. In my case ‘cool’ was exactly right, in fact during my mission, it got VERY cool - so cool my fingers could hardly operate the camera!

Capercaillie are especially rare in Scotland - this is the very edge of their breeding range and they’re in trouble here. No-one really knows why but for a while they were Britain’s fastest declining bird. Things are improving but the pressures on their natural habitat - pine forest in Scotland - are unrelenting.

Most photographers will complain about their luck - or lack of it. I’m one of those but from time to time, you do get lucky. This male capercaillie is a so-called ‘rogue’ - a male so charged, so aggressive, so intent on protecting his territory that he’ll attack anything he thinks is a threat - foxes, deer, cars and of course, photographers! Usually capers are difficult to get close to - this one was difficult to get away from! After two weeks, I had some shots I was happy with and some scars on my leg that I wasn’t so pleased about - just check out that monstrous bill!! Males will fight to the death if necessary - and there were times when I just saw that look in his eyes!

A male capercaillie in full display comes under the UNFORGETTABLE experiences in life. Several of our partners in Scandinavia run tours to see this magnificent bird - it’s a true Wild Wonder.

Peter Cairns / Wild Wonders of Europe

The first part of my mission for Wild Wonders of Europe was the remote island archipelago of St Kilda, the logistics in getting to this group of islands was tough and we hit many problems regarding the weather which incurred long delays. My second mission on paper looked even harder and all thoughts of an easy ride quickly went out of the window.

The Flannan islands are another remote island archipelago which is 20 miles of the west coast of Lewis. The Flannans or The Seven Hunters which is another well used name for this small island chain have a mysterious past. In 1900 three light house keepers disappeared and no bodies were ever found, speculation grew and rumours were branded around such as that one keeper had murdered the other two and then thrown himself into the sea in a fit of remorse, that a sea serpent (or giant seabird) had carried the men away, that they had been abducted by foreign spies, or that they had met their fate through the malevolent presence of a boat filled with ghosts. The official explanation was a natural disaster in the form of a bad storm and a freak wave that cost the lives of the three lighthouse keepers, although many details are still left unexplained. So either way after I had read all this it was either ghosts or bad weather that was going to get me I really can pick them.

Trying to get to St Kilda had prepared me in advance for a long wait on Lewis, waiting for a window of opportunity in the weather conditions but as soon as I got on Lewis the phone rang and that opportunity was sooner rather than later. In fact it was straight away as the forecast was good for the next couple of days and more importantly the wind was in the right direction.
My form of transport to get to the Flannans was not as glamorous as the nice shiny cruiser that took me to St Kilda but a lobster fishing vessel that was well, a well used lobster fishing vessel that was skippered by a great guy called Neil McCauley, I will come back to Neil. I have to say boats and myself just don’t get on, it’s a kind of a love hate relationship that I have to conquer to halt the dreaded signs of sea sickness and as this was going to be a six hour journey, I just knew it was going to be a tough six hours.

Even though the weather was good the swell was still heavy and that meant for me anyway the whole Journey on my back, lying down the only way I can deal with it, much to the amusement of the rest of the crew. Anyway we eventually got to the Flannans much to my relief but this is where the fun starts, the swell was still bad and it looked difficult to attempt a landing on Eilean Mòr, the largest of the seven islands. At one stage the discussion was to let the swell die down and try the next morning which for me anyway was a nightmare because it is even worse when the boat is stationary.

This is where Neil comes in and with over thirty five years of experience in these waters he saw it as a challenge to get us on land. I have never seen anyone handle a Zodiac as well as Neil can and true to his word he got us and all our kit from the boat to the Island. Our base for the next few days was Eilean Mòr because if the weather conditions turned it would at least offer us some security and protection but my main objective was to get onto the outlying Island of Roaireim which supports a small Gannet colony.

I had seen old pictures of this Gannet colony on Roaireim and was immediately struck by the beauty of this small isolated colony. Over the years the buffeting of the Atlantic Ocean has produced a wonderful Natural Arch and the Gannets nest on top of this formation. I achieved the resulting pictures from the zodiac as Neil skilfully manoeuvred between the rocks and the archway, I wish he was with me when we attempted to land on Boreray, his skill is amazing. The weather was perfect for the rest of my stay and I managed to record many aspects of Gannet behaviour during my time on this remotest Gannet colony in the UK, although it doesn’t match the size and scale of Boreray it has a magical charm and is one of the finest places I have visited in the UK. My next stop is Bass Rock one of the greatest wonders of Europe.

Danny Green / Wild Wonders of Europe