Production Notes: “Keeping the May River Wild”

Production Notes: “Keeping the May River Wild”

The foundation for this project came from years of photographing wildlife and more in the marshes and channels of the tidal May River, my home. I had long wanted to compile these images from an amazing place into a project that would be immersive for the viewer, giving them a sense of what I experienced paddling a kayak into the marsh and seeing what was on display that day or moment. When my academic adviser (and patron) Terry Eiler found a way for me to return to Ohio University to complete my masters degree, we agreed from the start that a multimedia documentary about the river’s wildlife would be my final project, effectively a creative thesis.

Even before returning to Ohio, I was working on this. A small grant from the Town of Bluffton helped my son – who was studying media arts at the University of South Carolina – and I produce a short video about paddling the river. This served as a dry run, training us – with some help from my friend David Snider – in a language of still imagery displayed in video, and forcing me to solve the problem of capturing video from a kayak.

Knowing it would take a good year (it took more than two) for me to arrange to spend time in Ohio, get through my courses and complete my project, I resolved early to limit my costs. I would work with the cameras I had, including a Canon 20D SLR and an original Canon Optura mini-DV camcorder. I considered investing in an HD solution, but I knew that beyond a new camera, I would want more computing power. Hence, I stuck to my tight-fisted ways, investing only in a few extra gadgets, particularly a Compact Canon G9 digital, a waterproof housing for it, a digital audio recorder and an Audio Technica lavaliere microphone. As I completed the project I upgraded to a Canon 50D SLR.

The Bow Shots Video

For a good dozen years, I have enjoyed making “bow shots” of the compelling triangle shape I see before me as I paddle. I realized adding motion and audio to this perspective would effectively bring viewers into the world I had found.

I cogitated on the idea. Thinking mounting a camera on my head would work, I rigged a quarter-inch bolt (matching tripod threads) on a bicycle helmet to try holding my Canon Optura camcorder. Besides the camera being a bit heavy for helmet mount (something I could solve with a specialized, tiny cam), I realized attempting to hold my head still would affect my paddling, making the experience look unnatural.

I then mounted the camcorder to a tripod secured behind the cockpit, shooting over my head. Despite careful planning, my hat brim still appeared in the frame, which was looking down at the bow, not at the world where I was traveling.

I finally settled on using a small, cheap tripod, collapsed, with its feet tucked in the kayak’s cup holder between my legs. I roped it off tightly in three directions, making it one with the boat and effectively tying me into the cockpit.

This solved my creative and technical problems. The camcorder sits just aft of my hands and paddle – showing them as they move, making the visual experience more immersive, and keeping the equipment behind most of the corrosive saltwater drips and splashes. A pair of plastic bags, with holes cut for and rubber bands to hold the bags tightly around the lens, completed the set up. I did have to watch, however, for heat build up, and on very humid mornings, condensation inside the bags.

The Still Photography System

While I’d never say digital photography is cheaper than film, it does reduce incremental costs, eliminating the material expense for making multiple frames of the same subject. Moving to Canon a digital camera in 2003 also meant using an APS-C camera sensor, which effectively magnifies my lens focal lengths by 1.6 times. Although full-frame sensors are now available, I still work with such cameras, particularly the Canon 50D.

The combination of not having to pay for each frame of film, coupled with an effectively longer focal length for my longest lens combination (a Canon EF 300 mm f/4 IS and 1.4x converter) helped me grow from a dabbler in wildlife photography to a dedicated practitioner. For several years, I also would borrow from Canon Pro Services a super telephoto – a 400/2.8 or 500/4 – during the eagle’s nesting season.

Hence, my own rig yielded an effective focal length of 700 mm at f/5.6 (the 1.4x converter eats a full stop of light). With a 2X (2-stop light loss) on a 400/2.8, I had an effective focal length of 1,280 mm at f/5.6. This is heady stuff in a sea kayak. Handholding even my rig is difficult and unreliable, but it’s nearly impossible with the physically huge, borrowed lenses paired with converters. Focus is, of course, critical. But camera shake is the hunter, despite the lenses’ sophisticated image stabilization features.

In order to make sharp pictures, I brace my kayak on a sand bar or mud bank at low tide or in the marsh at high tide, and mount the lens and camera on a monopod perched in the kayak’s cup holder. Windy days are tough. Calm days – especially in the spring and fall – mean thousands of biting sand gnats, and sometimes, mosquitoes. I’ve kept them well fed. And with the borrowed lenses, which weigh in at well over 10 pounds, I must be careful to focus only straight ahead, lest the hefty camera/lens combination perched atop the monopod roll my boat.

The Marsh Photography Experience

I did not use a blind for any of these pictures, although I use a black paddle, my dark-purple kayak blends well with the water, and my earth-tone clothing and camo hat help me blend with the marsh. I’ve spent hours making head-and-shoulders portraits of herons only 15 to 20 feet away. I think much depends on the quality of their fishing spot and mood. Some of the small birds – who tend to be curious – have had me near minimum focus with my “macro” 300. I make most images from 50 to 100 feett away, but I stay back from the eagle’s nest 200 yards or more during the nesting season. I’ve had elusive clapper rails – which you hear more often than see – practically climb on my boat. A mother raccoon, tired of swimming with a baby on her back, had to be talked out of doing just that.

Very few of my pictures catch the subject totally unaware, as I did Momma Coon. Most of my pictures require a sort of contract between my animal subject and me. I approach slowly, gradually, gently, often indirectly, or they stay when I stumble upon them feeding. I make eye contact and break it. I move slowly and smoothly, keeping my paddle low. I avoid startling animals however I can – rounding marsh corners slowly, staying to the sides of creeks to avoid trapping a dolphin upstream. Sometimes I talk to the animals quietly, letting them know I’m not trying to sneak up on them.

It’s a hard style to define. I’ve spent more than 20 years wandering the marsh, 15 in a kayak. I show respect. And sometimes the animals return it – wonderfully. I feel particularly successful when I end a photo session with my exit, rather than having the animal crawl, swim or fly from me.

The Audio

While at Ohio University, I purchased a Samson Zoom H4 digital audio recorder to help with my wildlife documentary project there. Although I could wish it had a higher sensitivity, it worked fairly well in the marsh, particularly with its built-in condenser mics. The recorder is built of what seem flimsy plastic parts, but it’s held up well when used carefully in harsh conditions.

In the marsh, I also used a Sennheiser MKE-300, shoe-mount shotgun mic, with a quarter-inch adapter to fit one of the combo inputs on the Zoom. The shotgun’s foam windscreen worked better on the water than the little foam ball that covers the Zoom’s built-in mics – and often falls off. The small shotgun is also directional enough to help with more distant sounds. On balance, however, the Samson’s built-in mics performed better in calm conditions.

I also used the Samson with my Audio-Technic omni lavaliere for all the interviews. The lav’s XLR connector won’t work with my camcorder, but I wanted its better sound. I had the interview subjects clap hands in front of their faces in each scene, and I used the Sennheiser shotgun to lay back-up audio on the camera tape, also handy for syncing.

This solution proved better in theory than practice. It meant loading all of every interview into my editing system (Final Cut Pro 6 on a MacBook Pro), helping my project files swell past 200 gigabytes for a 24-minute video. After syncing the Zoom’s sound with the video, I had to export the combined interview as a new Quicktime movie before I could make clips for editing. Then I had to reimport it and work with time code that did not match back to tape.

To add to the fun, I had some dropped frame and other timing issues on a couple of the interviews. On one interview, I had to rematch audio and video – largely by lip-sync – almost every minute.

For audio with the bow-shot video, I used a Sony ECM-MS907 (min-plug) mic tethered to my Optura and gaffer-taped to my hat brim, capturing the sounds of paddling and birds in the background.

The Interview Video

My intent was to interview all my subjects overlooking the river, perhaps on a docks or in a boat. I tried. But my first interview with Jacob Preston was set for an April afternoon when the sand gnats were peaking. We couldn’t hardly breathe on the dock where he moors his sailboat, and we retreated to his studio, which offered several colors of light. Another interview was on an enclosed porch on a windy morning.

I had considered making the interviews in black-and-white, as a contrast to the river – a sort of Kansas and Oz. The mixed lighting, hard to solve elegantly for a one-man band working with almost no budget, helped confirm this creative decision. I left the camera on auto-white balance for every interview. And I desaturated all in Final Cut.

Windy days also forced us into backlit situations on the shore. This required some contrast tweaking in Final Cut’s filters to help reinforce the consistent look that black-and-white gives to our disparate interview situations.

The Music

I’m lucky to have a brother who has written music that seems perfect for the May River. Rob lives in the hills of western Maryland, but he has a particular weakness for May River oysters. A few bushels is all it took to secure permission to use the instrumental tracks from three songs on Smith and Roberts’ album “By Accident.”

I tried to use the music more as a transition tool than total soundtrack.