I’ve often asked myself: What makes a successful photographer? Is it raw talent—some genetic gift that lets certain people see the world differently—or is it just relentless practice and a stubborn refusal to quit? I’ve swung between both ideas over the years. There were times when I looked at a National Geographic spread and thought, Wow, that photographer must have been born with a sixth sense for light and composition. And then, other times, I’d remind myself of those endless, frustrating days in the field, tweaking my camera settings over and over, waiting for the perfect moment, missing more shots than I’d like to admit.
It’s human nature to attribute our successes to innate ability and our failures to external circumstances. If I capture an award-winning shot of a leopard in the golden light of the Serengeti, it’s easy to think, That’s just my eye for composition, my instincts kicking in. But when I completely botch a once-in-a-lifetime moment—say, a bald eagle swooping down for a fish and I miss focus—I’m quick to blame the gear, the light, or pure bad luck. The truth, though? Real mastery in wildlife photography means paying just as much attention to what goes wrong as what goes right.
The Myth of Natural Talent
There’s a lingering idea that every world-class photographer was born with an exceptional gift. But let’s break that down. Reinhold Messner, the legendary mountaineer, was once portrayed as some sort of genetic superman—built differently, destined to conquer the world’s highest peaks without supplemental oxygen. Yet, when he was tested in labs, physiologists found nothing remarkable about his body. What set him apart? His ability to relentlessly focus on a goal, stretching the limits of what he knew was possible.
I think about this every time I hear someone say, I could never take photos like that—I just don’t have the talent. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that success in photography isn’t about an inborn eye for beauty, but about dedication, repetition, and a deep understanding of your craft. The best photographers I know aren’t just talented. They’re obsessive. They go out when the light is terrible just to experiment. They take thousands of photos that never see the light of day, all in the pursuit of that one perfect frame.
Hard Work > Luck
I once heard an NPR interview with a prodigy violinist. The host gushed over her “natural talent,” but she immediately shut it down. She said she was sick of people assuming she was just born gifted. What they didn’t see were the thousands of hours she had spent practicing, the moments when she sacrificed normal teenage fun to perfect her craft. And here’s the kicker: when she slacked off, her performances suffered.
That struck a chord with me because I see the same thing in wildlife photography. If I go weeks without shooting, my first few rolls (or memory cards, in today’s world) feel rusty. My reaction times are slower. I hesitate when I should just trust my instincts. Early in my career, I used to think this meant I wasn’t cut out for it—that “real” photographers could just pick up their cameras and create magic. Then I attended a National Geographic seminar and heard seasoned pros admitting the same thing. Turns out, performance swings are universal. Even top-tier photographers struggle when they’ve been away too long.
The lesson? Photography isn’t like riding a bike. If you don’t use it, you lose it.
The Power of Observation
One thing I’ve noticed about truly great wildlife photographers is that they don’t just see things—they study them. They aren’t just snapping away at every bird or animal that crosses their path. They observe, anticipate behavior, and position themselves accordingly. It’s a habit that often starts in childhood. Studies have found that many of the world’s most creative minds were obsessive collectors as kids—whether it was fossils, stamps, or even beer cans. It wasn’t about the objects themselves, but about learning how to categorize and make sense of the world.
Photography follows a similar pattern. At first, we’re all just collectors—capturing random moments, experimenting, clicking away without much thought. Then, we move into the organization phase, where we start refining what we shoot, becoming selective, and thinking about composition. The real magic happens in the third phase, when we take all that accumulated knowledge and start seeing patterns and possibilities that others don’t. That’s when our work starts to feel truly unique.
Why the Best Photos Feel Personal
I’ve come to believe that our best photographs don’t come from a perfectly planned shot list. They come from moments where we feel deeply connected to what we’re shooting. Have you ever taken a picture that made your heart race? That moment when you just know you’ve captured something special? It’s not about technical perfection. It’s about emotional resonance.
Somebody standing a few feet away from you could take a picture of the same scene, but their version will be different—because creativity isn’t in the camera; it’s in the mind’s eye. Every great image is a product of a lifetime of memories, experiences, and emotions. When we bring all of that into our work, photography stops being just documentation. It becomes art.
Final Thoughts
If you take one thing from this, let it be this: creativity isn’t a gift. It’s a process. Wildlife photography—like any creative pursuit—follows a natural progression. You start by collecting, then organizing, then, with enough time and practice, you begin to create something truly original.
So, the next time you feel like you’re not talented enough, remember: your best work is still ahead of you. Keep shooting, keep learning, and most importantly—stay curious. That’s where the magic happens.
Ready to turn passion into progress, I’d love to invite you to join one of my wildlife photography workshops. We go deep—not just into wild places, but into the craft itself. Whether you’re just starting out or looking to refine your skills in the field, these trips are designed to help you grow, connect with like-minded photographers, and create your best work yet.
