I Speak for the Otters

I am the Voice of the Kelp and the Sea, I speak for the otters, for they can't speak to thee! Plastic and trash tangle deep where they play, so please clean the waters and carry it away!

Southern Sea Otter eating and invasive European green crab

Otters first appeared around 30 million years ago during the Oligocene epoch. Otters belong to the family Mustelidae which includes other small carnivores like weasels, badgers, wolverines, and minks. Over time, various otter lineages diverged and adapted to a semi-aquatic and aquatic lifestyles. Otters can be found on nearly every continent except Australia and Antarctica. The sea otter (Enhydra lutris) is a specialized group within the family that has evolved to live almost entirely in the ocean rather than on land or in rivers like their biological cousins. Found along the coastal waters of the North Pacific, from Russia and Alaska down to central California, sea otters rely on an exceptionally dense fur coat (rather than blubber) for insulation, use tools like rocks to crack open shellfish, and play a keystone role in kelp forest ecosystems by controlling sea urchin populations.

With crab clutched between paws, this sea otter is clearing out the exotics one crab at a time.

California is home to the southern sea otter, Enhydra lutris nereis, and is found only along the central California coast. The California sea otter is generally smaller and lighter in build than its northern counterpart. In contrast, the northern sea otter, Enhydra lutris kenyoni, ranges from Alaska down through British Columbia and Washington, and it tends to be larger with a proportionally bigger skull.

Southern sea otter surfacing to check me out

Throughout the Monterey Bay, the southern sea otters feed on a range of bottom-dwelling invertebrates, including clams, mussels, sea urchins, and crabs, which they locate using their sensitive whiskers and paws. In the estuaries on the California coast, otters have taken to preying heavily on the invasive European green crab, where the population is estimated to consume between 50,000 and 120,000 of the crabs annually. This intensive predation has helped bring the invasive species under control, and by removing a crab that burrows into and destabilizes marsh sediment, otters have indirectly supported the recovery of eelgrass beds and thus stabilize the collapsing salt marshes throughout the Monterey Bay.

A bit of grooming during sunset

Sea otters are known for their playfulness, and much of this play doubles as practical skill-building — juggling shells, wrestling with kelp, or manipulating found objects hones the dexterity they rely on for tool use and foraging. This same curiosity can just as easily draw them toward human debris; unable to distinguish a plastic container or discarded rag from a rock or shell, an otter will often investigate it the same way. This instinct for play carries real risk. Marine debris and lost fishing gear are documented causes of entanglement in sea otters, capable of causing injury and interfering with the grooming essential to keeping their fur insulated.

Sea otters play and sometimes this play can lead to their death

The old adage, "a picture is worth a thousand words," resonated with me as I watched one of my favorite otters discover piles of human debris during a dive for food. After spending thirty minutes actively eating crabs and clams, he surfaced with a large plastic container and a discarded towel. Obsessed with his find, the little guy spent an hour playing with these "toys," and I feared he would become tangled in the debris or swallow pieces of the towel. What we choose to do with our waste, our plastics, and our presence in these habitats really matters. We share this planet with millions of other species, and our consciousness needs to expand beyond the self if we hope to thrive alongside the biodiversity we depend on.

Playing with a towel on its head, I was concerned about the otters obsession with our debris

Plastics are everywhere… What we choose to do really matters.

©2000-2026 BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

In Search of the Cambrian

While the specific dates are up for debate, there is very strong evidence that life was present here on Earth between 3.7 and 4.2 billion years ago. Given that the age of the Earth is about 4.5 billion years, it is astonishing to realize that life could evolve from abiogenic processes in such a short period of time. Abiogenesis is a topic for another day, but I think it is important to establish a point of origin before diving into the explosion and expansion of life on this planet.

While there have been countless innovations by living organisms throughout the ages, the evolution of one specific biological process explains the diversification of form and function across the living world. Some time between 1.2 and 2 billion years ago, single-celled organisms with distinct nuclei filled with genetic code began trading genetic cards. With the exchange of genes through some kind of primitive sex, diversification of body form and biochemical function began to accelerate. In the absence of sex, living organisms were destined to clone themselves and rely on rare and infrequent mutations in order to produce a new genetic makeup. With sex came the shuffling and mixing of genes, and this mixing is ultimately responsible for the diversity of life we see on the planet today.

Yet, in spite of the evolution of sex, Earth's life was nothing more than single-celled organisms floating about throughout the various oceans of the world. Some of these simple life forms could harness the sun's energy to produce sugar by photosynthesis, some were single-celled eaters that found a way to consume others, and a third group could be referred to as the recyclers — single-celled organisms that absorbed nutrients from the Earth and dead organisms. But this world was a planet filled with unicellular life in which form and function were packed into a single membrane-bound blob.

Depending on what one considers multicellularity, it was somewhere between 2 billion and 800 million years ago that single-celled organisms began to cooperate with one another. At first, the single-celled beasts began to aggregate into colonies where cells remained individuals as the collective grew larger and shared resources. Later, these larger multicellular organisms became codependent and thus a single entity. From this interdependence, diversity of form and function began to evolve. It is that latter evolutionary step that led to the Cambrian Explosion.

The evolution of sex, the development of multiple energetic pathways, and the transition from a purely single-cellular world to a place where multicellular life thrived, led to an unprecedented diversification period known as the Cambrian Explosion. Beginning around 540 million years ago and lasting for 13 to 25 million years, this so-called explosion was a period of evolutionary experimentation and diversification. All of life's known extant and many extinct animal phyla evolved, and it is this moment in time that ultimately set the stage for the biodiversity we see today.

The story of the Cambrian Explosion can feel abstract when reduced to numbers and geological time, but nature has a way of making the ancient tangible. If you know where to look, the legacy of that extraordinary diversification is visible right here on the California coast, revealed twice a day by the pull of the moon.

If one visits the coast during an extraordinary low tide, it is possible to get a glimpse at the variety of life that emerged during the Cambrian Explosion. As the tide recedes, there are pools of water that reveal organisms that make these rocky depressions their homes, as well as those that have become temporarily stranded. Living in these pools are single-celled organisms, algal colonies, sponges, corals, anemones, mussels, sea slugs, octopuses, snails, sea stars, sea urchins, crabs, and tiny fish. The life in a tide pool is a picture of biodiversity and a metaphor for the explosion that led to the "endless forms most beautiful and wonderful" that Darwin so memorably described.

As a closing note, I’d like to thank Frans Lanting and Chris Eckstrom for inspiring me to produce these images. This body of work was made during a Frans Lanting workshop, and the days that followed the intensive experience at the tide pools. The workshop was instrumental in helping me find organisms, the location, and inspiration to push myself creatively. For those reading this blog, I suggest you visit this link to the Frans Lanting’s Workshop Page.

©2000-2026 BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

The Monterey Bay

The Monterey Bay is located along California’s central coast between the cities of Lucia and San Francisco. Appearing millions of years ago with the formation of the Monterey Submarine Canyon, this vast underwater chasm rivals the depth of the Grand Canyon. Over 12,000 feet below sea level, the Monterey canyon funnels nutrient-rich upwellings to the surface and creates one of the most productive marine ecosystems on Earth.

Pair of Orca Cruising the Monterey Bay

In the 19th and 20th centuries, Monterey Bay became known for its fishing and whaling industries. Sardine canneries that once lined the infamous Cannery Row, brought prosperity to the residents of California, but also initiated a crushing ecological collapse. The precipitous environmental decline sparked research, and laid the groundwork for the ongoing conservation work that continues today.

California Sea Lions Fleeing a Pod of Orca

A cradle of ecological richness, the once devastated marine environment is now recovering. Wildlife thrives in the Monterey Bay thanks to protections guaranteed by the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary which was established in 1992. This sanctuary protects more than 6000 square miles of ocean habitat, making it one of the largest protected marine environments in the United States. These days, it is possible for tourists, wildlife enthusiasts, and photographers to see gray, blue, and humpback whales migrating, feeding, and playing off shore. Kelp forest and wetland sloughs are habitat for sea otters, harbor seals, seabirds, and shorebirds that migrate along the Pacific Coast migratory corridor. By spending a few days cruising the surface waters of the Monterey Canyon, it is possible to see many of the aforementioned species as well as sea lions, dolphins, porpoises, and orca. An embarrassment of riches for birders and nature photographers, the “Bay” will provide unprecedented opportunities to make new and unique images of many elusive wildlife species.

One of the most charismatic residents and migratory species in the bay are humpback whales. Unlike many marine mammals, humpbacks are recovering and even thriving throughout their range. In the Monterey Bay, it is not unusual to see seven to twenty different individuals during an outing. These whale are often observed diving, waving a fin, slapping the water, feeding, and even breaching. Unlike some of the other whale species that migrate along the coast, humpbacks are in the Bay to eat. As such, their behavior becomes a magnet for other species who find the whales lunging through so-called bait balls of fish. When upwelling from the underwater canyon carries a school of fish, the whales will open their mouths and feed vigorously. This behavior attracts enormous rafts of sea lions, pods of dolphins, flocks of gulls, pelicans, and even orca.

Pacific White-sided Dolphin in Thick Marine Fog

Photographing whales can be one of the most challenging types of wildlife photography. There are many factors that work against the shooter, and even experienced photographers may struggle to make a clean image of a breaching whale. The primary challenges to photographing whales and dolphins from above are inherently linked to their habitat and their behavior. Whales disappear from view when they are underwater, and can remain out of sight for as long as 20 minutes. Trying to track the motion of an animal that disappears into blackness is very difficult without the aid of an experienced naturalist and captain. Furthermore, ocean swells or rough seas make it challenging to maintain focus and a level horizon on a surfaced animal.

To increase your success during an ocean whale trip consider the following tips:

1. Bring a zoom lens with a 100-400mm or 200-600mm range. I typically use my 180-600mm lens or my 100-400mm lens with a 1.4x converter attached when my primary targets are whales and dolphins. Surprisingly, most of my whale photos are taken at the shorter end of the zoom range. By keeping the lens between 200mm and 300mm, it is possible to find and capture the entire whale body as it suddenly lunges from below. When a whale approaches your ship or peers at people, a zoom allows you to quickly increase or tighten your field of view.

2. Set your camera to its fastest frame rate and auto iso. While shooting bursts will result in many blown images that may find you deleting hundreds or thousands of pictures after an outing, the high frame rate increases your chance of capturing a whale in motion and providing you with multiple images from which to select a best. My suggestion to rely on auto-iso is one that releases you from making additional calculations during the shooting experience. Because the movements of whales and dolphins can transition from dark water to blue sky, the need to tweak exposure in order to maintain a fast shutter speed can be a cognitive burden. In these situations, I typically use aperture priority and auto ISO set to a maximum of 6400, and program the camera to maintain a shutter speed of 1/2000 second or faster. By using exposure compensation, I can then lock in an exposure and guarantee a well exposed and sharp image during a breeching event.

3. Bring at least two microfiber terry cloths on your expedition, and remember to check that your front element is clean and clear. During one foggy outing where I witnessed an explosion of porpoising Risso’s dolphins, I ignored my own advice and did not check to ensure the clarity of my front element. Traveling through thick fog caused water to condense on the exposed optical element. As a result, all of my images looked as if vaseline coated my optics. By using a pair of microfiber terry cloths, you can keep the external parts of the camera and lens dry. The second cloth should be devoted to your front element and stored in a pocket when not being used.

My final piece of advice is more about state of mind rather than photography. Have fun and expect a less than perfect photographic outing. Being a nature photographer is as much about “being there” as it is about “getting the shot.” Obsessing about the product of a shoot will detract from the experience and the stories you have to tell. In the end, you will have a better shoot and memories from your time at sea if you are willing to relinquish the need for a “perfect” image.

Humpback Sounding at Sunset

©2000-2026 BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

Top 10 2025

This year’s selection of best images should probably be written in quotes, such as “best images.” I enjoy being in the field watching nature unfold, but I am not wild about doing the edit and selecting photographs to be shared. As such, my work from 2025 is an incomplete story. While I have chosen some images to edit and share, the majority of my photographs remain in an unedited state… shame on me. Thus, when I describe this as my “Top 10,” it might be better to claim that these are the best from the selection of images I have edited this year. In fact, I am confident that there are many other compelling photos languishing in files that have yet to be reviewed, selected, and worked.

Coyote Shaking : I photographed this coyote at Point Reyes National Seashore. I was on an outing with another photographer and we saw this young coyote sleeping in the field on a foggy afternoon. We slowly approached and sat down within 20 meters of this guy and just watched it chilling on this cool day. We were hoping the coyote would stand up and do a “downward dog,” but instead it stood to shake and layed down again. I loved the experience, the relaxed behavior, the exposed little canine, and the minimalism of the image. While it may not appeal to many, this may be my favorite shot of 2025.

Curlew Curlew : This long-billed curlew was photographed in the Elkhorn Slough near Moss Landing. I live 20 minutes from this ecological reserve and try to visit at least once a week. On this day, the low sun angle of sunrise and still water in the mudflat allowed me to capture a perfect reflection as the bird flew to another nearby location.

I began the selection process by reviewing all of the photographs that I flagged during my initial edit. I took well over 30,000 photos this year and 539 received a flag. These flagged photographs were then reviewed, color-corrected, cropped, and processed to be shared online or in print. Some of these photos were shared on Facebook, Instagram, in a blog, sent to be published, or printed for the gallery in my studio. After reviewing each of the 539 images, I rated the best with stars. This process of selecting the best of the best left me with 26 pictures that needed to be whittled down to 10.

Portrait of a Pigeon Guillemot : I am fortunate to live near a few cliffs where seabirds nest or roost. The guillemot cliff is a great place to photograph these red-footed birds with outstretched wings against a turbulent ocean. While I made many photos of the latter throughout the year, I chose this portrait for its simplicity and implied mystery. The out of focus blobs frame the subject, but only reveals a hint of the body.

The Lovers : I made this image during my road trip to the Redwoods and Oregon Coast. I enjoy both widlife and landscape photography, but am often challenged by what I call “still life” scenes. This is a tiny section of a root mass from a toppled redwood tree. I was drawn to the contrasting tones and the face-like expression of the root that appears to be riding another branch.

I find this last stage, the distilation of personally meaningful and interesting photos to the final ten to be an excruciating process. In the end, I try to ask myself a few poignant questions, dare I say “tests,” as a way to select the final set being shared as a “Top 10.” The first test requires that I consider the “consistancy, conformation, and mood” of each picture such that it matches a style or ethos that appeals to me. The second test requires that I consider the technical merits of the photograph, and the final test requires that I find the experience or moment of capture to have been intentional.

Racked-up : I like to visit Point Reyes National Sea Shore many times throughout the year. I go there often to photograph bobcats and coyotes, but also a plan every September to photograph the elk rut. Last year I saw some magnificent elk in thick fog, this year I was in the right place to see a pair of bulls tusseling at the end of the day.

Otter Kiss : In the beginning of December I visited Grand Teton National Park. While I’ve been to this location many times in the past, I’ve never experienced a winter in the Tetons. My target species for the trip were moose, but I’m an opportunist and will photograph anything that catches my eye. This photo is of a pair of otters that were diving into and out of a frozen river. At one point one otter ran towards the other and they appeared to kiss. It is a simple image with very few elements… just the way I like it!

Moose Walking : I took well over a thousand moose photos during my trip to the Tetons and have deleted the set to a collection of one-hundred keepers. While I’m not sure that this is my “best” moose photo, I found this particular experience to be exhilarating. I wanted to make a picture of a moose that was “intimate” and suggested something about its immense size. I scrambled through snow and sage brush to get ahead of this individual, crouched low, and framed the shot to capture a bit of mountains and sky. I felt like a tiny gnome standing among giants.

For this year, most of my photography was relatively local. With the exception of a trip to the Redwoods, one to Yosemite, and a third to the Grand Tetons, I stayed within 120 miles of my home. The images presented are consistent in my approach to simplify what I see, create a sense of mystery, embrace minimalism, or illustrate a natural behavior. While maybe not the best of 2025, they are appropriately a Top Ten.

Pastels in Yosemite : I traveled to Yosemite in November to photograph autumn color. On this windless morning there was just a hint of fog as the sun was rising up and behind the mountains. I used a filter to allow for a long exposure with the hope that the rising fog would convey someing a little etherial about the landscape.

Fox Trot : I photographed this young red fox about 20 minutes prior to sunrise. To freeze the action, I cranked up my ISO to 12,800 and followed the fox as it moved. I like the soft palette of color, subdued lighting and hint of rimlight in this image. In a departure from much of my wildife photography, I also like how this fox was not making eye contact with me.

Happy New Year… Bruce

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Patience and Nature Photography: The Art of Waiting

Nature photography is more than just capturing images; it is an art that requires a keen eye, deep appreciation for the environment, and most importantly, patience. Unlike studio photography, where lighting, subjects, and conditions can be controlled, the mix of light and subject in nature photography is unpredictable. Whether waiting for the perfect sunrise or movement of an elusive animal, patience is an essential tool in a photographer’s arsenal.

Wildlife photographers spend hours or even days in a single location waiting for their subject to appear or display a specific behavior. Similarly, landscape photographers may revisit the same location multiple times to capture the perfect combination of light and weather. Without invoking the power of patience, these fleeting moments would be lost.

The patient nature photographer is rewarded with unique and captivating images. Making the time to wait and watch life unfold creates the opportunity to see and capture photographs that tell a story or evoke deep emotions. A perfectly timed shot of a breaching whale, a mother with her pup, or the first light of dawn touching a mountain peak are all products of patience.

Patience allows photographers to develop a deep connection with their subjects, and experience moments that others rarely have the opportunity to see. It is in the waiting that we make time to observe our surroundings, discover the intricacies of our muse, and see the subtle changes in light. This mindfulness not only enhances our photographic work, but it also fosters a sense of respect and admiration for the natural world.

Patience manifests itself in many ways, and I often consider this to be a super-power that we photographers can invoke. The patient nature photographer is one who is willing to wait out the weather, the light, and the behavior of a subject to create an opportunity to capture a rarely observed moment. Patience may not apply to a given day or photographic opportunity, but to a place. The patient nature photographer will visit and revisit a location, photograph the same landscape or subject across days or even years with the goal of producing something unique and special. Finally, the patient photographer does not give up. At the core of our craft is the pre-visualization of the photos we hope to make. A type of forced serendipity, the patient photographer will scout a location, wait for the optimal time of year, and put themselves on site at the right place and at the right time.

The patience developed through nature photography extends beyond the camera. It cultivates qualities such as perseverance, resilience, and a deeper appreciation for the natural world. In a fast-paced society where instant gratification is often sought, nature photography reminds us to slow down, observe, and appreciate the beauty in waiting.

Patience is a core skill of the nature photographer. Whether waiting for the perfect light, an elusive animal, or the right composition, patience rewards photographers with images that capture the essence of the natural world. Beyond the lens, it teaches valuable life lessons, encouraging a deeper connection with nature and the virtue of persistence in the pursuit of beauty.

©2000-2025 BTLeventhal.com / BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

Hanging on by a Thread

Like the timber wolf, polar bear, bald eagle, and California condor, the monarch butterfly is an iconic species that evokes an intrinsic biophilic1 impulse that inspires conservation. In contrast to other “glamor fauna,” monarchs are insects. In fact, the monarch butterfly is an ambassador for promoting insects, ethical gardening, land conservation, and biodiversity. No other insect is as familiar to and loved by the North American public as much as the monarch butterfly.

Sadly, this once abundant species now exists at the whim of humanity as it faces the same crisis that most other plants and animals now endure. Unless you are a species that thrives in and among humans, are a generalist that can tolerate drastic climatic conditions, and can reproduce in spite of urbanization, you are a species on the brink… you are hanging on by a thread.

Today, monarch butterflies can be found in Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, North America, Central America, and South America. Often claimed as “their” iconic insect by the local human population, this butterfly exhibits uniquely different behaviors throughout its various range. The monarchs’ in the South Pacific, Central America, South America, and Florida are generally considered to be non-migratory. In contrast, the populations that thrive east of the Rockies, and along the Pacific coast are known for their migratory behavior.

Natural Bridges State Beach : October 2024

Interestingly, the butterflies that inhabit the central US are the true long distance migrants. Beginning with their spring departure from Mexico, the emigrants undergo three to five reproductive generations as they head north to Ontario. The final group that emerges in September form a so-called “super generation” that flies south to overwinter in the Mexican oyamel fir forests. The northern-most individuals travel up to 3000 miles to roost in trees that their great, great, great grandparents departed earlier that year. This migration is one of those amazing ecological stories that captivates the public, and explains why monarchs have achieved their iconic status.

While many Californians believe that their winter monarchs are part of the Mexican migratory population, this is not the case. The western migrants move from west to east where they go through as many as four reproductive generations. Arriving in Idaho, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona during the spring months, these butterflies lay their eggs on milkweed and their babies undergo multiple reproductive events before heading west to California. As with the oyamel forests in Mexico, the coastal forests of California form a stable micro-climate that allows the butterflies to slow their metabolism, conserve energy, and survive during the cooler winter months. While the California population does not approach the size of the mid-continental monarchs, much like their cousins to the east, they form tree-top clusters during cool evenings as a way of maintaining thermal stability.

Natural Bridges State Beach : 10-28-25

Regardless of the migratory path, the monarch population is experiencing a monumental decline. At the present, the western population is 1% of its mid 1980’s peak, and while the eastern population had a strong 2024, its total biomass is about 20% of what it once was2. The mix of urbanization, mono-culture farming, use of pesticides, logging, and climate instability has impacted the survival of migratory monarch butterflies. Literally hanging on by a thread, the long term survival of migratory monarch population is far from guaranteed, and unless we find a way to reverse the momentum of habitat loss and instability, it is possible that future generations will not experience the wonders of this unique phenomenon of the insect world.

1Biophilia : The innate human tendency to connect with nature and other forms of life.

2 Xerces Society

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The Photographer’s Dilemma : Staying Motivated

There was a stillness to the air and a chill that cut through layers of wool, fleece, and down. Mist hovered above the surface of the open water as morning light penetrated a thick layer of fog. Sunrise is still 30 minutes away, while the cold steals heat from my extremities. One can only endure so much, yet the promise of a magical sunrise is enough to fortify my resolve to stick with it.

What motivates a nature photographer to wake up early, stay out late, miss meals, hike in the heat, camp in the cold, travel for days, spend a small fortune on gear, and forgo outings with friends and family? This question haunts me now more than ever. There was a time when the solitude of wilderness was a very personal experience, one that created the opportunity to slow life down and live an inner peace that comes from being alone in nature. While some wandered the woods with binoculars or settled on a mat of moss to read or meditate, I carried a camera and embraced the solitude that many avoid.

Enter the present where photography has become an ubiquitous practice with a currency of likes and hearts motivating throngs of humans to show others that they were there and saw that. How is it possible to sustain the motivation to make new images when so many others seem to be competing for attention and affirmation? If you’ve been shooting for decades, worked with film, large format plates, medium format rolls, and the limitation of low ASA slide film, you know that photography, much like everything else, has undergone a fundamental change. The complexities of the “exposure triangle” and need to manually focus were once a barrier for many. In fact, mastering the latter often distinguished excellence from mediocrity. In contrast to the precision mechanical nature of film cameras, the modern mirrorless tools are more like computational devices than the cameras that many of us remember from our youth.

Maintaining motivation and joy in photography continues to be a  personal battle. While I long for that special feeling that I once experienced when discovering an “amazing” image from a roll of 36, I do get excited when I manage to photograph a subject in beautiful light or an unexpected behavior. Staying motivated when surrounded by others who travel more, experience the exotic, and are savvy with the modern tools, require that I focus on what connected me to photography in the past. Motivation requires that I still believe that I have something unique to say with my cameras, and can find ways to embrace the moment of capture when so many other things compete for my attention. Motivation requires that I find joy in the process and peace when I’m holding a camera to my eye…. I wonder, what motivates you?

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The Photographer's Dilemma : Why Photography?

It’s amazing how quickly anyone can collect data these days. When I was a college student in the early 1980’s, I spent hours in the library scanning the Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature in order to find accepted and vetted sources that could be cited in an essay, lab report, or paper for presentation. If you were born after 1985, it’s likely that you have no experience with the Reader’s Guide, or how essential they were for developing a fact-based piece of writing. So, it is with my background in writing both undergraduate and graduate theses with the aid of the Reader’s Guide, that I share these probable - but possibly dubious - “stats” about photography.

Rays, Redwoods, Rhoddendrons, CA

After prompting Google with a few pointed questions, I’ve learned the following:

• According to PetaPixel.com, a well respected photography website, approximately 5.3 billion photos are taken each day. With the aid of a little math, this translates to approximately 221 million pictures per hour or 3.7 million snaps per minute.

• About 1.3 billion photographs are shared to Instagram daily (you can see mine here), while Facebook averages 350 million photo shares per day (Cited: Omnicore Agency).

• For those who share their photos to social media sites, you’ll be disappointed to learn that the typical person spends about 2.7 seconds on your photograph before swiping to another… (Google AI engine factoid).

Mom and Cub

So there it is, we live in a world that is saturated with images, and where everyone is a photographer. As a longtime hobby/semi-professional photographer, the ubiquity of picture taking and army of self-described photographers on this planet has been a bit of an existential conundrum for me. A casual review of this website and its many portfolios will reveal that the making of images and writing about them is a critical aspect of my identity. Knowledge that I have inextricably linked the “essence of me” to a practice performed by tens of millions of people each day, does little to bolster my own self-esteem and belief in a uniqueness that differentiates my mind from those who share the planet with me.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Yet, the recognition that throngs of photographers hike the woods, look for owls, photograph bears, craft landscapes, and wait for the sweet light has not dampened my enthusiasm for the process. In fact, this very reality seems to be a source of motivation that has caused my own process to evolve over and over again. While I shy away from competition, I am not one to remain constant when a regiment of clones shoot and share the same things. Seeing the work of my peers informs me about my own practice and pushes me to try and see differently.

Sulfuric Fumerole

In the end, photography is a salve for life’s complexity. It is an opportunity to embrace a singular experience and live in the moment. When peering through a viewfinder at a rising sun, streams of light emanating from the sky, or watching a squirrel emerge from its subterranean tunnel, I am lost in the experience. If I take a few moments every day to study the patterns in bark, the randomness of beach pebbles, or the probing of a sandpiper’s bill, I create an opportunity to ground myself and remember that I too am a part of the natural world.

Photography is the rare craft, discipline, and art that anyone can experience. If one were to take the process seriously and make their images with purpose, they too would create the opportunity to let go, focus, and simply be.

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The Photographer's Dilemma : History of Nature Photography

Last week I discussed my personal history with photography and why I became so engrossed with cameras and the process of making images. In this second blog on what I am calling “The Photographer’s Dilemma,” I will briefly explore the history of nature photography. Understanding the historical origins of environemntal photography will allow me to build a bit of context for the remaining blog posts in this series…

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Red Fox Looking Back on its Habitat : Coastal California

Nature and wildlife photography emerged alongside technological advances in cameras during the mid 19th century. Early photographic equipment was cumbersome and required long exposure times that made capturing moving wildlife nearly impossible. As a result, early nature photographers focused on landscapes and still subjects, such as trees, mountains, and rivers. One of the earliest nature photographers was Carleton Watkins. He documented the landscapes of Yosemite in the 1860s, and contributed to the conservation movement by showing the beauty of these wild areas to the public.

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Sunrise on Damnation Trail : Redwood State Park, CA

Wildlife photography developed later with the invention of faster shutter speeds, more sensitive film emulstions, and portable cameras. George Shiras is often regarded as a pioneer of wildlife photography. He used flash and camera traps in the 1890s to capture nocturnal animals in action, particularly deer and wolves in North America. His images, published in National Geographic, inspired public interest in wildlife conservation. By introducing the population to the hidden wonders in nature, Shiras’s work galvanized American citizens to pressure state and federal politicians to slow the exploitation of wildlife and natural habitats.

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Egret Reflection : Natural Bridges State Park, CA

Throughout the 20th century, improvements in lenses, film sensitivity, and eventually digital sensors allowed photographers to capture wildlife behavior with clarity and precision. Photographers such as Ansel Adams elevated nature photography to an art form, while wildlife photographers like Peter Beard, Ylla, and Nick Nichols documented African wildlife and conservation crises with powerful storytelling pictures and essays.

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Tasty?… What a fox or bobcat might discuss when seeing these little ones.

Today, nature and wildlife photography plays a crucial role in environmental awareness and conservation advocacy. Digital cameras, drones, and remote camera traps have expanded possibilities for an intimate and respectful documentation of even the most elusive species. Social media has enabled photographers worldwide to share images instantly, increasing public appreciation and interest in biodiversity.

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Sea Stacks at Reynesfjara, Iceland

From its origins as a technical challenge to its role in art and activism, nature and wildlife photography continues to deepen humanity’s connection with the natural world, reminding us of its beauty, fragility, and the urgent need for protection.

©2000-2025 BTLeventhal.com / BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.

The Photographer's Dilemma : The History before the History (AKA Preamble)

In 1979 my late Uncle Charles moved into my family’s California home in order to expand his East Coast business to the West. Our house would be his California “headquarters,” while his home in New Jersey would continue to be a permanent address. Charles would stay with us for up to eight weeks at a time, and was a great source of entertainment for our family. A lover of games, jokes, and music, my uncle was simultaneously kind and chauvinistic…  a man of his age, but not this age. A connoisseur of finer things, Charles wore a Rolex watch, listened to music with his McIntosh stereo, and captured the world through Leica lenses. It is the latter point that probably initiated my 45 year love affair with photography. Charles was the consummate shutterbug, creator of family portraits, documenter of vacations, and the “Uncle Bob” that drives every wedding photographer to drink. His love of photography spilled over and onto me, and is the reason I am a photographic “artist” today.

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In 1986 I was “hired” to be a research assistant and grunt for a project situated on a tiny island in the Bering Sea. I was an undergraduate student that impressed a professor who was looking for young people to live rough and collect data on a sub-arctic island. I was enamored by the prospect of doing authentic research, idolized the primary investigator, and thought this would be a gateway to a PhD. While I was comfortable with the basics of field ecology, I was naive, young, and hungry; I hungered for knowledge, recognition, and nutrients. A poor college student living in a shack at a campus trailer park, I saw this research opportunity as a chance to have a trip of a lifetime and set a course for my future; little did I know, my trip to Alaska would ultimately carve the path that was and is my life today. Three weeks into the research project our team was “saddled” with a junior high school science teacher who had paid to be on a University Expedition. University Expeditions was an organization that paired lay-people with scientists, and its participants pay to work with “real” researchers. Dwight Sieggreen from Detroit Michigan joined us for two weeks, and we became quick friends. More than 20 years to my senior, I was Dwight’s liaison and teacher of field methodologies, while he became an ear-worm that led me to consider a career in public education. Hearing about the impact he was having on generations of children, and the summer adventures he experienced during off times, I began to embrace the potential of what ultimately led to my 32 year career in science education. Furthermore, Dwight was a shutterbug with more knowledge about making pictures in nature than I could have imagined. While I spent hours teaching him how to observe nesting pelagic birds and measuring the dimensions of beaks, feet, and eggs, he spent an equal amount of time helping me understand exposure theory, composition, and decisive moments. A one-two punch, Mr. Sieggreen introduced me to my potential as an educator and reignited my passion for photography that began with my uncle.

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This tale of my past lays the foundation for a series of blogs that I am titling “The Nature Photographer’s Dilemma.” Now, at age 60, I am a lifetime photographer, hopelessly devoted to capturing what I see with my camera, interpreting the world through a lens, and seeking a way to express myself artistically. I stand on the shoulder of countless other photographers that preceded me and mentors who I’ve sought  to emulate and impress. My photography is an expression and manifestation of my experiences as a biologist, teacher, traveler, and human. Yet, this very thing that is my obsession is also is a source of frustration, anxiety, and questioning. We live in a world where images are ubiquitous, and anybody can be a “photographer.” So, what does it mean to be a photographer and how can someone stand out when everyone is making images? Is it necessary to stand out, or can we find satisfaction in anonymity? It is my endless tendency, dare I say personality quirk, to reflect on the past as I push into the future, and this quirk has me thinking about what I consider to be a dilemma.

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If you are interested in my musings and my rationale for this obsession, I hope that you will read my thoughts as I try to articulate the “Nature Photographer’s Dilemma” in a series of 10 blog posts throughout July, August, and September…

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For those interested in where I am heading, this is the itinerary I hope to explore…

-> Dilemma i : History and Future of Nature Photography

-> Dilemma ii : Why Photography

-> Dilemma iii : Staying Motivated

-> Dilemma iv : Creativity in the Face of Technological Innovation

-> Dilemma v : Editing

-> Dilemma vi : Keeping up with the Jones’s

-> Dilemma vii : Skill vs Automation

-> Dilemma viii : Being Seen

-> Dilemma ix : Throw Back Thursday

-> Dilemma x : Closing Thoughts and AI

©2000-2025 BTLeventhal.com / BruceLeventhal.com  All rights reserved. No image on this site may be used without permission.