In photography, timing isn’t just everything—it’s the whole enchilada.
Time of year. Time of sunrise. Time of exposure. Time to wait. And, of course, time for lunch (nature waits for no man, but my stomach is less patient).
This particular moment? Definitely a “time to wait” situation.
I’d been cruising the Narrow River all week, soaking up more wildlife antics than you’d find on a New York subway at 3 a.m.—minus the saxophone player in his underwear. That morning, I was shadowing some Banded Kingfishers when I glanced up at an osprey nest and… froze. The moon was gliding across the sky in a slow, graceful arc that, in my mind’s geometry, was on a collision course with the nest.
The kingfishers could wait. This was cosmic alignment territory.
So I framed the shot. And waited.
The moon inched closer. My inner monologue went from “Wow, this could be beautiful” to “Now all I need is an osprey to magically appear in the next two minutes.” I started out wishing for the moon, and now I was wishing for an osprey—apparently my needs escalate quickly before breakfast.
Then—movement in the distance. A speck with wings. My pulse jumped. The speck got bigger. Definitely an osprey. Definitely heading this way. Check the moon. Adjust the camera.
Closer. Closer. Wings stretching wide.
And then—BINGO. Moon. Nest. Osprey. All in one perfect, ridiculous, beautiful frame.
Sometimes you chase the shot. Sometimes the universe just sends it to you with a bow on top.
All good things come to he who waits.
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