Getting the shot is harder than it seems
We are miles down the bike trail near Hancock, Md., three of us lugging three cameras, two tripods, two-way radios, microphones and gallons of drinking water.
We are looking for a turtle. No specific turtle – any shelled critter would do. But we were not finding him.
I’m producing a documentary for public television WQED, an hour-long film about the bike trail from Washington, D.C., to Pittsburgh. The production has taken us all across the 335 miles of trail, deep into woods and high atop mountains, through long, damp tunnels and through swarms of gnats that no bug spray would repel.
The views have been spectacular, and the cyclists we’ve interviewed have been the nicest people. But from the day I got the assignment, I’ve thought about getting that shot of the turtle.
Turtles, with an s, actually. I remember them fondly from the week, several years ago, when my friend and I cycled the trail. Along the swampy, green-watered canals around Hancock, dozens of turtles climbed aboard floating logs, sunning themselves and grabbing insects as they came by. In a week of memorable moments, that image has stayed with me. If we were going to capture the bike trail for the film, we had to capture the picture of the turtles.
A woman at the park office told us where to find them, in the canal beneath a bridge. With cameras and tripods on our shoulders we hiked down the trail to have a look.
Done to the highest standards, documentary photography is a laborious, backbreaking job. Dave, the principal cameraman, has been telling stories from behind the lens for going on 50 years. Zak, the assistant cameraman, has been at it for 14 years, and he’s only 24. The two of them are among the best anywhere.
But even the best photographers can’t compel a turtle to come into frame, or make it stay there until our shot is set up.
“I swear there were dozens of them the last time I came through here,” I said. I could tell what Zak and Dave were thinking as they trudged another 100 yards down the trail: She’s bonkers.
There were dragonflies everywhere, as well as hundreds of those little bugs that scoot along the surface of water. And if I’d set out to capture the beauty of mosquitoes along the trail,I’d have hit the jackpot.
“Let me get down closer to the water,” said Dave.
“Ticks!” I said, as I gave him the can of bug spray for his legs.
While he was spraying up, I peered through some bushes and saw it- four small turtles lined up on a log.
“Dave!” I said, and pointed. As he picked up his tripod and moved toward me, the turtles flopped off the log in unison.
“You scared them,” he said. Apparently, turtles can hear.
How do those photographers from “Planet Earth” do this? They must sit all day, waiting for the flamingoes to start their parade, or for the otters to get in the mood to mate.
We hiked another hundred yards down the trail. A rock on a log poked its head up. I flapped my arms in silent beckoning to Dave and Zak, who came running with their cameras.
The turtle posed long enough for them to get the shot.
The film will feature 335 miles of trail, an expanse of land that stretches through some of the most historic and scenic places in the country. How very reductive of me to focus so much energy on finding a small animal.
But we found him. The documentary will premiere next March. Look for my turtle there, sitting on the log.