This is a beginner-friendly guide to autumn woodland photography tips for beginners, with simple woodland photography settings for cameras and phones you can use on your very next walk.
In the US, you might search for fall forest photography tips, everything here applies just the same.
Join me on a woodland walk with my teenage grandson, where we uncover six field‑tested ideas you can use today—no fancy gear, just a curious eye and a few smart tricks.
I recently took my teenage grandson, Sam, on a nature walk. Or rather, he reluctantly shuffled a few feet behind me while I went for a walk.
He came because he’s a good kid, but his hands were buried deep in his pockets and his face had the flat, bored look of someone who would rather be anywhere else. I knew that look. It was the face of a person disconnected from the world around him.
My mission was simple: not just to show him the autumn woods, but to help him truly see them for the first time.
Save these woodland photography settings for golden hour, overcast days, and breezy conditions.
Pro tip: A white bottle/notebook works as a reflector to lift shadow detail on fungi.
The path was a thick carpet of leaves, and the air smelled of damp soil and decay. To me, it was beautiful. To Sam, it was just a muddy trail.
"See that oak?" I pointed as a grey squirrel, cheeks bulging, spiralled down its trunk. "Your great-great-grandad would've known if that squirrel had enough acorns for the winter just by the way it moved."
Sam’s eyebrow twitched. A flicker of interest.
"He could read the forest like a book," I continued. "And the book is full of secrets."
A little further on, he froze and pointed to a small pile of dark pellets. "Gran, what's that?"
"That," I smiled, "is the first secret. That's muntjac deer poop."
He wrinkled his nose. "You mean you actually look at that stuff?"
"Of course!" I chuckled. "It's detective work. Tracks, the unique patterns on feathers they've dropped, nibbled nuts, and yes, even poop. They're all clues that tell you who's been here. We might not see the deer, but now we know it has walked along this path."
He leaned in, his earlier boredom momentarily forgotten. It was no longer just a muddy trail; it was a crime scene, and he was the detective.
Av/A
, Aperture: f/5.6–f/8
Auto 100–1600
(cap 3200 if dim)1/125s
(in Auto-ISO settings, if available)Cloudy
; Exposure comp: +0.3 EV
to lift dark details"I brought my spare camera," I said, pulling my old camera from my bag.
He gasped. "Seriously? It's huge!"
"It’s just a tool," I said, putting the strap around his neck. "And its only job is to help you capture the stories we find."
Just then, a robin landed on a nearby branch, its chest a lone spark of colour in the muted woodland.
"Okay, first lesson," I whispered. "That little bird is the star of the show. Your phone camera would put it dead centre, but I want you to try something different."
I pointed to the gridlines on the screen.
"I remember thinking this was a silly rule," I told him, "but trust me, it works. Put the bird's eye right where those lines cross. It forces you to see the space around the bird, not just the bird itself."
He lifted the camera, his movements slow and deliberate. He wasn't just pointing; he was aiming.
Click.
He showed me the screen. The robin, perched to one side, looked like it was contemplating the empty space in front of it. The photo had a story. "Whoa," he said, quietly.
For rule of thirds composition in woodland photography, keep the bird’s eye on a third with space to look into.
Av/A
, Aperture: f/4–f/5.6
~1/1000s
for small birds (use Auto-ISO; cap ~6400)Sam's next question came a few minutes later, as a blue tit flitted among the branches.
"Gran, how do you make the background all soft and blurry in your photos?"
"Ah, now you're asking the right question," I smiled. "That's the magic trick. It's about telling the camera what's important." I switched the dial to 'P'—Program mode.
"This is our middle ground," I explained. "It gives us some control without the overwhelm, and it's where I figured out the relationship between aperture, shutter speed, and light."
I showed him how to open the aperture wide.
"Think of it like this," I said, remembering how it finally clicked for me. "You're telling your camera, 'I only want this bird in focus.' Everything else—the distracting twigs, the messy leaves—let it all just melt away."
He spent the next ten minutes completely absorbed, trying to capture the flitting blue tit. His reluctance had been replaced by intense concentration.
Av/A
, Aperture: use your widest (e.g., f/4–f/5.6
on many tele-zooms)200–400mm
(step back and zoom in)1/500–1/1000s
for active birds; slower is OK if perched & steadyAuto
; Focus: single-point on the eyeAs the sun began to dip, the light filtering through the trees turned thick and golden.
"Bit gloomy, isn't it?" Sam muttered.
"No," I said, feeling a familiar thrill. "This is the best part."
I remember thinking how 'golden hour' sounded like a silly, made-up term. But it’s the perfect description. It's the time of day when the world stops looking ordinary and starts looking like an old sepia photo.
"Watch what happens to that ordinary tree trunk," I said, pointing to where the warm light was painting the bark honey-coloured. "See how the light wraps around it? No harsh shadows, just this beautiful, soft glow."
Sam lifted the camera and took a shot. When he looked at the screen, his expression changed.
"It looks... warm. Like, actually warm."
"Exactly! This light doesn't just illuminate, it transforms. It makes colours richer, eliminates harsh shadows, and gives everything an emotional quality. That's why photographers chase this light."
Av/A
for static scenes; Tv/S
to freeze moving leavesf/5.6
(trees/leaves), f/8
(layered woodland)1/125–1/250s
static; ~1/1000s
to freeze movement200–800
; WB: Cloudy/6500K
for warmth−0.3 to −0.7 EV
for backlit leaves to preserve glowWe came across a cluster of tiny toadstools.
"A hidden world," he whispered, crouching down.
His first shot was blurry. "It's too dark. Should I use the flash?"
"Best not to," I told him. "Flash is too harsh. It kills the magic. But here's a secret.You don't need expensive equipment to control light."
I held my white water bottle beside the fungi. "This is a reflector. Professional photographers spend hundreds on fancy ones, but anything white or silver works."
The difference was immediate. The golden light bounced softly into the delicate gills, revealing details that had been lost in shadow.
His eyes lit up as he saw the transformation on the screen. The fungi glowed with an inner light. "You can actually control light with a water bottle?"
Av/A
f/4–f/5.6
; aim for ≥1/125s
800–1600
; focus manually if AF hunts (use peaking if available)As we walked back, a gust of wind sent a spiral of golden leaves dancing down around us.
Without any prompting from me, Sam lifted the camera and clicked.
"Did you get it?" I asked.
He looked at the screen and grinned. "I got the feeling of it."
That was the moment I knew something had shifted. He wasn't hunting for perfect bird portraits or technically flawless compositions anymore. He was capturing the essence of autumn itself, the movement, the light, the fleeting magic that makes you catch your breath.
"I get it now, Gran," he said, his voice full of new excitement. "It's not about the thing, it's about the moment."
He had discovered photography's greatest secret: the best images don't just show what something looks like—they capture what it feels like to be there.
That walk with Sam reminded me how just a few ideas can change how you see the world. If his story has inspired you to start your own adventure, perhaps a few pages from my notebook might help guide you on your way.
For me, it’s never been just about bird names or camera settings. It’s about the quiet thrill of understanding the story unfolding in front of you. The moment a "weed" becomes a butterfly nursery, or a distant speck resolves into a hunting kestrel.
My camera is the tool I use to capture that magic, but my real passion is sharing it. This site is my digital field notebook, my collection of trips, and my invitation to you to stop, look a little closer, and find your own connection to the incredible nature on our doorstep.
If you've enjoyed your time here, the journey doesn't have to end.
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