Wildlife Photography in the Rain

The rain in Northumberland that day wasn't gentle. It was a cold, relentless October soaking that found every gap in my supposedly waterproof gear.

I was six miles into a hike, halfway to nowhere, and completely drenched. My socks squelched in my boots with every step. My camera, tucked under my jacket, felt like a lead weight.

Many photographers would have stayed in the car. Most people would have stayed home.

And that’s exactly why you should go out.

Because in those moments—when you’re cold, uncomfortable, and as much a part of the storm as the animals hiding in it—the real stories happen. This is where you stop just taking pictures of nature and start making pictures with it.

I learned more about photography in that one miserable, wonderful hike than in a hundred sunny afternoons.

The Lie of the Perfect Day

We’re taught to wait for the "golden hour," for soft, warm light. But a sky full of clouds is a gift. It’s a giant softbox that diffuses light evenly, making colours rich and deep without harsh shadows.

Out there, shivering, I watched a fox move through the drenched grass. The greens and browns weren't washed out; they were profound.

This is your first "win" in the rain. You don’t need to worry so much about harsh light. The world is already perfectly lit for you.

Your First Job Is To Stay Functional, Not Just Dry

Before that hike, I'd worried endlessly about my gear. Is it weather-sealed? What if water gets in?

But as water seeped into my jacket, I had a revelation. The most important piece of gear to protect wasn't the camera. It was me.

I was so cold I could barely feel my fingers on the shutter button. No photo is worth risking your well-being. Before you even think about camera covers, make sure you have a truly waterproof jacket and boots. Your ability to think and function is what gets the shot.

My On The Spot Guide to Camera Settings in a Storm

The darkness was closing in fast. This is the moment many people pack up, thinking it's too dark to shoot.

My brain was racing. "How do I get enough light and still show what this rain feels like?"

Aperture (Letting Light In): First instinct? Open that aperture wide.

On a pro lens, that might mean spinning down to f/2.8, honestly, whatever your lowest number is, that's where you want to be. Just set your camera to Aperture Priority (A or Av) and let it drink in as much light as it can get.

ISO (Making the Camera More Sensitive): The gloom was winning, so I cranked my ISO up to 1600.

Yes, the purists will tell you about grain or "noise" but in my opinion a slightly grainy photo that captures a magical moment, beats a clean photo of nothing. Every single time.

Shutter Speed (Capturing the Rain): Then came the creative decision.

Did I want to freeze those raindrops mid-flight at 1/500s? Or let them streak into silver ribbons at 1/30s? The storm was telling two different stories, and I had to choose which one to capture.

The Moment the Lens Hood Failed Me

Just as I was tracking a bird, a sudden gust of wind blew a sheet of rain sideways, straight into my lens hood. It flooded instantly.

I carried on shooting, oblivious. Every shot after that was a mess—a ghostly, smeared haze.

My lens hood, which I thought was protecting me, became a tiny bucket. I frantically wiped the lens with my sleeve, making it worse.

That day taught me something embarrassingly simple—a dry microfiber cloth tucked in an inside pocket would have saved those shots.

Why Autofocus Hates the Rain (and How to Beat It)

When the autofocus starts its confused dance, hunting back and forth through the rain, I did what I should have done ten minutes earlier. Flicked that switch to manual.

Turning that focus ring myself felt strange after years of letting the camera decide. But in that chaos of rain and movement, it meant I could nail the fox's eye, that one critical point, and made all the difference.

This is how you reclaim your confidence when technology fails you.

The Reward? A world to yourself

The best part of that whole, soaking experience? The silence.

There was no one else for miles. The wildlife hides were empty. The usual chatter of other photographers was gone, replaced by the sound of wind and rain.

Animals behave differently when we're not around. They are more at ease, more themselves. And because I was the only person crazy enough to be out there, I got to witness it.

This is the ultimate reward for braving the weather. You get the whole wild world to yourself.

The Magic of Puddles when the storm breaks

As the rain finally eased, a new world appeared. Every puddle became a perfect, temporary mirror, reflecting the dramatic, clearing sky.

I watched a blackbird bathing in one, its joy palpable. I got down low, almost lying on the wet ground, to capture the action from its perspective.

This is the final chapter of a rainy day shoot. The light after a storm is often the most beautiful. Look for these reflections. They turn a simple scene into a work of art.

Your Turn

So, the next time clouds gather and the forecast looks grim, I hope you don't see a cancelled day.

I hope you see an invitation.

Zip up your jacket, protect yourself first and your gear second, and step out the door. Go find a story that only the rain can tell. Sometimes, the most remarkable moments in photography aren't just found in the wild—they're found in the storm.

Copyright © 2018- naturewalkswithcarol.com   All rights reserved

Home   | About Me   | Contact Me   | Blog   | Privacy Policy