Osprey? What Osprey?

An Evening at Rutland Water

On a glorious summer evening at the tail end of the recent heatwave, five members of Dunchurch Photographic Society made the journey to Rutland Water in the hope of capturing one of Britain’s most spectacular birds of prey in action.

The expedition, led by Simon Coates and joined by David Bray, David Cunnane, Graeme Webb and Paul Holloway, had a very clear objective: photograph ospreys feeding at Horn Mill Trout Farm. Simon had enjoyed considerable success at the location on previous visits, so expectations were understandably high.

Arriving at around 4:30pm, we settled into the hide armed with long lenses, fully charged batteries and plenty of optimism. The weather could hardly have been better—warm sunshine, clear skies and beautiful evening light. Surely the ospreys would put on a show?

Well… not exactly.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Five hours later, despite scanning the skies with increasing determination, not a single osprey had made an appearance. It turns out that wildlife photography’s most important lesson is sometimes simply that the wildlife hasn’t read the itinerary.

That said, the evening was far from a waste. Nature provided plenty of alternative entertainment. Red kites drifted overhead, herons stalked the margins, swallows darted through the warm air, and even the local spiders proved surprisingly cooperative subjects. A blackbird also made several appearances.

The photographic highlight that never was came in the form of a green woodpecker, which suddenly hurtled across in front of the hide. Unfortunately, it managed to evade all six photographers with remarkable ease. Whether this was due to its impressive speed or our collective surprise remains a matter of debate.

With no ospreys to photograph, attention inevitably turned to the trout themselves. The fish seemed determined to leap from the water at the precise moment cameras were lowered or attention wandered elsewhere. No one suffered more from this phenomenon than poor David Bray, who became increasingly exasperated as trout repeatedly launched themselves from the water exactly where he had been patiently focusing moments earlier. It almost seemed as though the fish were deliberately taunting him—raising two fishy fingers every time he looked away.

As the evening progressed and hopes of osprey action faded, spirits remained remarkably high. The conversation flowed freely, helped along by a plethora of fish-related jokes, puns and increasingly questionable humour. The laughter was constant, and before we knew it, the hours had disappeared.

While the trip may not have achieved its primary photographic objective, it perfectly demonstrated what makes outings with Dunchurch Photographic Society so enjoyable. Sometimes the photographs don’t happen, the wildlife doesn’t cooperate and the carefully laid plans go awry. But spending an evening in beautiful surroundings with good friends, plenty of laughter and a shared passion for photography is never time wasted.

The ospreys may have won this round, but we’ll be back. After all, they can’t avoid us forever.