Looking backwards: Winter / April 5, 2021 by Arne Bischoff

It is spring - full swing. Everyone in the animal realm is courting, mating, building, nesting, breeding or already having its offspring. Although in the local Harz mountain range, there is still snow and the night temperatures in Northern Germany remain around freezing temperature, there is no doubt: nature is starting up. For me, this is the time to finally look back to a winter, when I have been out quite a lot.

Whooper swans hibernating in Northern Germany. Mid-winter it looked a lot like their Scandinavian breeding grounds.

Cold and snowy: A surprise winter in Northern Germany

Usually winter in Northern Germany is a dull affair. Grey and with a lot of rain. This year has been different. Especially January and February brought really low temperatures and a lot of snow. My hometown of Goettingen recorded over 30 cm of snow and temperatures as low as -28° C. This is a once-every-30-years-occasion. The local mountain range had more snow, while even the lowlands received its fair share of the white stuff. And while a lot of humans enjoyed the pleasures of winter, nature struggled. Especially smaller birds and birds of prey died in some numbers. The local kingfisher-population nearly entirely collapsed. Surprisingly the white storks, geese or cranes that hibernated here, fared pretty well. With four weeks, the cold was not long enough to seriously harm it.

I mainly have been around at three different places or regions this winter.
My hometown of Goettingen, the local Harz mountains and the southernmost parts of Lueneburg heath.

The latter is famous for a lot of different Scandinavian birds such as all sorts of geese, swans or cranes hibernating there. But all three places had one thing in common. Due to the really low temperatures, nearly every pond or lake was frozen - so all water related birds resorted to the rivers, where they found some open water.

1. Images from the lowlands

Especially on the Aller river, you could find hundreds of ducks, geese or swans. One day, a young roe deer surprised me big time. A cross-country skier disturbed it on the farther bank of the river. The roe deer dashed off, into the river, navigated its way through the drifting ice and climbed the near bank. The water was around freezing and the air way below -10° C. The roe deer looked pretty miserable, but it simply shook the water off and strolled to the safety of the near forest. Wow - what hardships those animals can endure. The unusual conditions provided plenty of opportunities to watch Whooper and Tundra swans which are not too often even in Northern Germany.

2. Images from the (Harz) mountains

Winter and lots of snow aren’t too unusual in Northern Germanys highest (and pretty much only) mountain range. In the middle of the mountains sits the protected National Park, which is a sanctuary for a lot of wildlife, such as Red deer, Eurasian lynx or the wildcat. Deep valleys, dense forests and small rivers make the most part of the range.

3. Images from my hometown

Depsite its relatively small size, my hometown Goettingen has been on the national news quite often this winter. Over the course of two weeks in February, it has been the coldest place ih whole Germany, with temperatures constantly below -20° C and snow heights over 30 centimeters. For Northern Germany, this is highly unusual. Every body of standing water was frozen and even the slower running rivers. Only the swifter flowing waters remained open, even if there outer waters were frozen, too. No kingfisher remained in the area, they either died or fled. A lot of buzzards died as well as the few remaining redstarts. But life and death are oft pretty close in nature. Thousands of finches flocked the remaining patches of sunflower or hemp and attracted Sparrowhawks and even a Merlin. The population of Grey partridge fared surprisingly well, too and cuddled together into large groups of ten or more birds that withstand not only the cold, but all the skiers, who literally rode “cross-country”. Only the White-throated dipper remained entirely unimpressed of all the cold and white. It continued hunting larvae in the icy-cold waters of the swifter rivers and rivulets.

Ms Kingfisher - The master of hunting / February 4, 2021 by Arne Bischoff

There is something special about the kingfisher. It is one of the most photographed species of birds. There are so many amazing kingfisher images out there, you might as well give in and realise that there is no more story to tell, no more images to show that has not been shared before. But every time I have the chance to meet one, I get really exited.

The blue jewel

This January, Northern Germany has seen some days of heavy frost. The poor kingfisher had to quit hunting at lakes or ponds since they were mostly frozen. Luckily though, it wasn’t cold enough to freeze the rivers - that would mean near certain death to the local kingfisher population. So the blue jewels resorted to their raised stands along running water. One memorable day, I counted four kingfishers along 800 metres of waterline.

One of those was this particular Ms Kingfisher. She was hunting right next to a local recreation area, only 20 metres from a street, pedestrian crossing, car park and exactly where a tiny stream flows into a larger river. This place being so busy proved a very lucky spot for me.
Ms Kingfisher was well used to all sorts of crowds: humans, dogs, cars, ducks, herons - me. I crouched into the bank and watched her fascinated for more than two hours. Once, she came as close as two metres. Closer than the minimum focussing distance of my telephoto lens. This gave me the goosebumps.
I always try not to disturb the animals I photograph. This often leads to not getting the shot. But to notice that a wild animal tolerates my presence and does not flee me is more than reward.

An exceptional hunter

My Ms Kingfisher proved an exceptional hunter. Within those two hours, she caught as many as eleven sticklebacks. She had chosen her hunting spot perfectly. A lot of branches and twigs provided both platform and ambush to wait and then make the dive, those little birds are so famous for.

“I cheered her for every catch. Because for kingfishers, every catch counts.”

Winter is a particularly hard time for kingfishers. Despite its German name “Eisvogel” (literally: icebird), ice is its deadly enemy. Its little size and weight and very active behaviour means that it needs to succesfully hunt each day. Harsh winters and frozen waters can wipe out local populations within days. Migration is oft not an option either since the little bird can not cover longer distances without eating.

When I finally decided to leave her, I went some 100 metres upstream, where I met another specimen. This time a male. The little guy hadn’t chosen his hunting ground nearly as well as Ms Kingfisher. There were no suitable branches around (directly over the water) and all his attempts to hunt from a grassy river bank proved unsuccessful. Eventually he left a few minutes later. I hope he did better, where ever he went.

Luck and misfortune only a few metres afar. I hope both of them will make it through winter. I really like those little birds.

Waiting for a kingfisher and meeting a wading deer / December 24, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

A young Roe deer wading the knee-deep Oder river.

Just be out there! This is the no. 1 lesson, every wildlife photographer needs to learn. It’s often a bit wearisome. Not to sleep in, to set out in the dark only to be out at the break of day, to wait endless hours to be - more often than not - unsuccessful in terms of taking images. But it’s worth it. I never regretted getting out, even when I saw no animals at all. And sometimes it just pays off other than you planned or expected.

Checking the best spot to climb the steep and busy bank.

A few days ago, I set out to photograph the beautiful and well beloved kingfisher. It is quite shy, so you need a plan and a good disguise and a lot of patience. I made for a local stream which still runs quite naturally. It offers clear, not too deep waters and high banks that provide the kingfisher with nesting holes in summertime.

I lay in camouflage under a carved out high river bank, fully overshadowed and rarely visible. I waited for the kingfisher to show up downstream, from where I already had heard it’s call. I was concentrated searching and listening, when suddenly in my back, I heard really loud splashing sounds.

I could not really believe what I saw: A young roe deer waded downstream. It was focussed on the difficult walking and did not notice me at all, until it was about ten meters close. When it finally heard the shutter clicking, it stooped and watched me intently. I did not move and so the little deer decided that I was no risk. It continued its path and made slowly for the northern bank. It passed me with less than five meters distance. An amazing experience and a breathtaking moment!

A young Roe deer wading the knee-high waters.

I later figured out, what probably happened. The roe deer wanted to cross the river to make for the thick and sheltering bushes there. It left the shallow southern bank, but must have had some difficulties to climb the steeper and higher northern bank (where the kingfisher nests). So it chose to wade the only knee-deep rivulet downstream, to find an easier spot to climb. Once it was safe out of the water, it slowly disappeared in the bushes.

Finally: Safely hidden in the thick bushes.

A finch feast / December 10, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

I am lucky. Around my town, the EU Interreg Partridge Project planted a lot of wildflower patches. The patches provide the highly endangered Grey partridge with shelter and food. But the gallinaceous birds are not the only ones who love their wildflowers.

“One very agreeable quality of those finches is that they form mixed finch flocks.”

In late fall, thousand of finches feasted on the wildflower seeds. Greenfinches, Bullfinches, Chaffinches, Hawfinches and Goldfinches roamed the area in huge numbers. They live together, they eat together, they migrate together - well at least some. Of course they sometimes quarrel for food. They especially love the last remaining sunflower seeds. So they tend to sit right on top of the sunflowers and albeit being very social in general they are not happy to have other finches on their sunflowers.

Speaking of quarrels: The occasional fighting finches were not the only ones who got a bit heated during my last visit. A Common kestrel was around hunting and a Carrion Crow was just not having it. The Crow constantly bullied the kestrel until the bird of prey finally gave in and made way. I really like Corvidae for this quality. They are incredibly clever, they are great flyers and they don’t accept birds of prey around. The kestrel finally went hunting somewhere else.

No Muskoxen in Gränslandet / November 5, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

Ten days solo-trekking in Swedish/Norwegian gränslandet.

Beautiful autumnal colours above the Storån

Due to the global Covid-19 pandemic I had to change my plans for my outdoor- and wilderness-holidays. I originally planned to go to Norwegian Dovrefjell and photograph Muskoxen during their rutting season and enjoy the gorgeous autumnal colours. I wanted to meet my close friend and best tour companion Linn up there. But Norway imposed a mandatory ten-days quarantine for travellers from Germany. That foiled all my plans. Norwegian Femundsmarka has always been my plan b for this fall and with this equally impossible, I had to quickly find an alternative. It turned out to be Gränslandet and it turned out to be solo hiking, because my friend wasn’t allowed to go to Sweden without undergoing a quarantine back home in Norway, too.

On the edge of Töfsingdalen national park

Getting there

As the name suggests, Swedish Gränslandet is a wilderness on both sides of the Norwegian/Swedish border with scraggy mountains, deep forests, endless bogs and the wild and pathless Töfsingdalen national park quite in the middle. It is a little lesser known than Norwegian Femundsmarka some kilometres further west, but they are literally two sides of the same coin.
And thus, it went. I made the 1,500-kilometre travel exclusively by car due to the pandemic and used only the Scandlines ferry from Puttgarden to Rødby in the process, spending the entire 45 minutes alone on deck. With every kilometre further north, my anticipation rose. Both fall and bird winter-migration was in full swing.

Being where I love to be - the Scandinavian fjell

I started my hike in the little mountain town of Grövelsjön. The first day saw me crossing typical scraggy fjell-terrain before I descended into what seems typical for the region. I went along river Storån which forms a lot of lesser lakes. It is all very wet, boggy, wild. The paths are not easy to walk at all, typical Scandinavian fjell with roots, puddles, boulders all over the place. The colours have been nothing short of breath-taking. From the deep green fir trees over bright and dark yellow, vibrant oranges to really dark reds. I quickly crossed into the pathless Töfsingdalen national park before I returned to follow river Storån. There are some really cosy shelters along the way, but I relied on my tent for the first few days. Then something happened that I had not foreseen. I fell in love.

Falling in love with a hut

I came across a very beautiful little hut. It was as if it was calling me to stay. I felt an urgent desire to follow its call and it did not disappoint me. My friend Linn, who has been obliged to stay at home booked it for me and send me the PIN for the key-safe (a typical Scandinavian thing). For two days I did little but enjoying coffee, watching the vast numbers of migrating Ring ouzels and the ever-present and very talkative Whooper swans. One unforgettable moment I saw six Ravens playing together in the air. And I saw my first ever specimen of Siberian jay and Northern hawk-owl. But I pretty much fell in love with the whoopers. Did you know that they not only dabble, but feast on blueberries? I want to have such a hut. Being there fed my escapism big-time. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as those little mountain-huts here in Germany.

Sunset at the border of Töfsingdalen national park

Jottuslättan and Hågåån

When I continued my journey, I headed for the region of Juttuslätten. Very few people ever come here – this was what everyone said before and that sounded very promising. Unfortunately, I never made it there. I found a very beautiful little path to Ytre Hågåsjön. Maybe this was the best day of my journey. I found bear-tracks and a herd wild reindeer accompanied me for a kilometre or two. From Ytre Hågåsjön I went down the river Hågåån to find the crossing that the map promised. After two kilometres of rather demanding and pathless walking along the river I came to a huge manmade clearing in the otherwise dense forest. A little up the river a bridge had been torn down by the power of the running water. I took about two hours two scout the river for a crossing, but I finally decided not to cross. The river was running swift and at least waist-deep, maybe higher and I had no crossing-shoes with me, because I did not plan to do challenging crosses. All in all, the water was to deep and swift-running to do it barefoot and I did not want to do the rest of the trip in soaking wet hiking boots.

This has been quite a bummer. I spent the night there, walked down the Hågåån valley until it met the Storån again and then continued north and around the Töfsingdalen national park again. My final stage took me over the regions highest and very windy peak of Storvätteshågna.

A photographers problems with the wilderness

It has been an incredible trip. I would have loved to be out a little longer, but it had not been possible for personal reasons. I only met two people in all this time. Wonderful. And I re-learned a lesson that I learned some years ago in the Sarek and that I had forgotten. Photography and ambitious hiking or trekking don’t go hand in hand. Walking in such a landscape is a thing of its own. I personally don’t really find the peace of mind and time to concentrate on photography, when I am walking with a heavy pack. But photography needs this. Time, patience, focus. So, I did not take to many images of all what Gränslandet had to offer. Breath-taking autumnal colours, beautiful and swift rivers, wildlife, wind, rain, trees, mountains, forests, bogs, but most of all silence, peace, freedom.

Of Mice and Men / July 25, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

“A good thing such a garden.”

I am a garden caretaker right now, watching a friends little garden. I ate a lot of gooseberries and raspberries and harvested some salad and zucchini. A good thing such a garden.

And I made friends with this little guy who was not at all shy. One wonderful evening I lay in front of this sage bush and watched my friend eat. It did not care at all and allowed me about twenty centimeters close. And now I am a little in love with a mouse.

So please, do me a favor. Stop killing mice. They are part of your ecosystem as well as your well beloved foxes or squirrels.

What's the story? (Furry glory). A badger in the woods. / June 29, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

“I made a new friend. He’s furry, he is black, white and grey and he makes such wonderful sniffing sounds.”

A European badger (Meles meles) in the twilight of its woods.

There is this big thing in the photography community: INSPIRATION. I can’t quite suffer it any longer. “Thank you Stephen McDougle Media House Photography Production, you inspired me to finally clean my fridge. Let me post some images of it as a part of the #instagramcleanfridgechallenge.”

Well, that was my cynical me. In fact, two fellow wildlife photographers really inspired me with their badger images. The wonderful Morten Hilmer shared a video of himself roaming his local forest and searching for badger dens. And Kevin Winterhoff had a short educational piece about how to identify it. I really like both photographers, because they show what wonderful experiences you can make in your own backyard and just around the corner. It’s easy to fall in love with wildlife photography in Svalbard, Patagonia or the Amur region, but if you can do it on a cold, rainy night in Stoke, this is quite a feat.

I did not actively head out to find a den later-on. But it somehow resonated with me. Then, under the Corona-lockdown in Germany, I decided to skip the overcrowded parts of my local forests and to discover some terra incognita in the nearby forests. I thought, I knew the woods around my hometown really well, but I was absolutely surprised what it had in store for me, once I left my well-trodden paths. And then I stumbled right across a badger den. I literally walked into it. It thrilled me and I decided to pay the den some visits and see if I’d see its inhabitant.

I did. Right at my first outing, two badgers showed their noses. I did not even have to wait long. I came with the last light of day and as soon as the sun had gone down, the badger came up. One – the bigger individual, I guess the male – was quite curious, whereas the smaller only had a short sniff of fresh air.

Apropos sniff. My badger announces itself with a very cute sniffing-sound, right before it leaves its den. The first time out, I was so excited, I screwed up the photography. I missed focus a lot and the light level was so low, my images turned out soft and noisy. So, I came back. The last time I visited the den, the male badger – like clockword – came out, when the sun set, had a little walk around his den and went off for a hunt. No. 2 did not show off. In my mind, an image arose. An image of Ms. badger lying hidden in the den with a litter of baby-badgers around. I will definitely come back.

Image of the day: Dreamy buzzard / June 27, 2020 by Arne Bischoff

With this image, I try something new. I showcase some single-images here. Like on my instagram, but with better image quality and accessible for everyone who does not want to “share” his or her data with Facebook, Inc.

With this image, I tried to create a bit of a dreamy atmosphere. The light was so low and the buzzard so far, it was never going to be a detailed shot anyway. So, I decided to shoot right through the tall grass. What do you think? Did my creative experiment turn out well? Or is it just kitsch?