The great egret is a relatively recent addition to the Swedish avifauna. The first confirmed breeding took place about twelve years ago, not far from where I live on Gotland. It is a very welcome species to see here, although the fact that its northward expansion is largely linked to climate change makes it difficult to feel only positive about it.
The location where this photograph was taken is a place I visit regularly. The evening before, I had stopped by to check whether the birds were present, hoping the conditions might come together the following morning.
As usual, I arrived about an hour before sunrise. In early summer, that means around 03:30 here in Sweden. Being in place early is important; I want the birds to settle naturally before the light arrives.
That morning, the landscape was wrapped in thick mist, and visibility was limited. Slowly, I manoeuvred my floating hide into position, aligning myself with where the sun would rise. As the first light began to appear, the mist lifted just slightly and took on a beautiful sepia tone in the low sunlight.
Suddenly, the small reef emerged in my viewfinder. I was working with a Canon 200–400mm lens with the built-in extender, but immediately realised that the scene called for a wider perspective. I zoomed out to 200mm to include the entire reef and the birds resting there.
I later titled the image “Cousins” because the grey herons and great egrets seemed to share the reef in complete harmony.
The photograph later received an award in the Nordic Nature Photography Contest.
The image is very close to what came straight out of the camera. It is slightly cropped to include the reef while leaving a little space around it. I warmed the colour temperature to enhance the sepia tone of the mist — something the camera’s auto white balance struggled to capture — and lifted a few shadows slightly. Otherwise, the photograph reflects almost exactly what I experienced in that quiet moment on the water.
