It’s Sunday, 6:40 a.m., and I’ve been staring at the surface of a fishpond for over two hours now, trying to photograph Europe’s largest eagle — the white-tailed eagle. I’m standing in cold, muddy water from the knees down. The smell of rotting silt clings to the air. I keep myself warm with the thought that a wave of tropical heat is supposedly heading for Europe. Somewhere nearby, a cuckoo calls. A green woodpecker just flew past behind me, and for hours now I’ve been hearing wild boars splashing around somewhere out of sight in the reeds. However, the creatures nearest to me are the hungry female mosquitoes. And the eagle? Nowhere to be seen. For hours, I have been experiencing the true essence of wildlife photography.
