The Boat and the Heron – One Shot Story

Maybe you’ve experienced it – a moment so still it seems like time has stopped. It could be from intense focus or a deep calm, but the moment has probably cemented itself in your mind as a lasting memory. For me, I remember so vividly the morning when I took this photo. It was a cold day in April 2024, and I a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed hobbyist film photographer wanted to exercise my newly acquired darkroom skills shooting some black & white film.

I mainly shoot historic buildings and fragments of industrial heritage in my city of Dundee, Scotland. Dundee has a rich history in textile manufacturing and maritime occupations including shipbuilding, whaling and trading. I was working on shooting what is left of the maritime heritage in the form of a project in black & white, on my treasured Olympus OM1. I started with the historic ships moored in the docks. HMS Unicorn, built 1824, is the third oldest ship afloat in the world. Sporting a seemingly deeper-than-black tarred hull and basic rigging, the Unicorn operates as a museum at the quiet end of the 19^th century Victoria Dock

On this particular day I was looking to shoot the Unicorn itself and the dry dock or ‘graving dock’ nearby. I felt a presence as I walked past the Unicorn, as if I was being watched. Looking around I locked eyes with a heron, perched on the rigging and starkly contrasting the dark hull behind. I’d never seen a heron so close and I stopped- this was my opportunity. I raised the camera and took the shot on my 50mm kit lens, expecting my gradual movement or the click of the shutter to spook the bird. It didn’t, and I took shot after shot as the light changed over what seemed at once hours and seconds. The heron relaxed, adjusted position, and almost looked bemused as I moved to get different angles. I remember so clearly the stillness, this moment of intense quiet that this heron and I shared.

I must have been there for some time when an older man pulled up in his car to ask what I was doing. We stood some time longer with the heron before he and I reluctantly had to leave. As I walked away I kept looking behind to see if the bird was still there. Rounding the corner, he was still unmoving on the rope. To this day, every time I walk past the ship I look, hoping to see the heron again.

Share this post: