How a Reluctant Teenager Discovered Ideas for Autumn Photography

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.

The Woodland's Secret Code

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 at 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."

Grey squirrel collecting acorns

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 its story 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.

Lookout for signs of wildlife while walking

From Frustration to Focus

"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.

Robin with bokeh (soft focus) background of autumnal leaves

His 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.

Blue tit with soft focus background

Capturing the Feeling

As 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.

We 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. "It's too harsh. It kills the magic."

Instead, let's soften the light we have." I held my white water bottle beside the fungi, bouncing the golden light back into their delicate gills.

His eyes lit up as he saw the difference on the screen. The fungi glowed. He wasn't just taking a picture of a mushroom anymore; he was capturing the feeling of a secret, enchanted world.

Macro photography of fungi

As we walked back, a gust of wind sent a spiral of golden leaves dancing down around us. Sam lifted the camera, no prompting from me, and clicked. He had stopped documenting subjects and had started capturing moments.

"I get it now, Gran," he said, his voice full of a new excitement. "Can I... can I ask for a camera for Christmas?"

My heart warmed. "Of course," I said. "There are so many more stories to find."

That's the real secret to autumn photography.

It’s not about having the best gear or finding the most stunning view. It’s about slowing down enough to see the stories unfolding all around you—in a footprint, on a branch, or in the soft, fading light.

It's the difference between looking and seeing. And it's a feeling we can all find if we know where to look.

From My Notebook: For Your Own Adventure

That walk with Sam reminded me how a few key ideas can completely change how you see the world. If you're curious to go a little deeper on any of the secrets we uncovered, here are a few pages from my own notes that might help.

• On Speaking the Camera's Language: If you want a fuller picture of how aperture, shutter speed and ISO work together, I've written down my thoughts on changing camera settings here.
• On Chasing Twilight: There's a real art to making the most of that beautiful, soft light. Here's my guide to golden hour photography.
• On Reading the Clues: Learning to spot and identify birds is a journey in itself. If you'd like a starting point, here is my advice on how to identify wild birds.

About the Author

Carol is a wildlife photographer and nature writer based on the Cambridgeshire/Northamptonshire border.

Through her lens and words, she shares the stories of the natural world — from bluebells and butterflies to the awesome spectacle of a seabird colony.

Read more about Carol's journey

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