Photographing Kotare at Allandale Reserve: The Morning the Kingfishers Came

Location: Allandale Reserve, Governors Bay, Canterbury, New Zealand

There was frost on the grass when Buddy and I left the house.

It's been one of those proper Canterbury weeks where the mornings have dipped to -4°C. The sort of cold that makes you question your life choices as you pull on another layer before heading out. But once the sun climbs over the hills, everything changes. The sky turns that clear winter blue, the air feels crisp instead of biting, and suddenly it seems impossible to stay indoors.

A Winter Morning at Allandale Reserve

So we headed to Allandale Reserve.

Buddy was delighted, of course. Every walk is an adventure if you're an Irish Setter.

We wandered down towards the waterfront just as the tide was beginning to creep back in. Seagulls were gathering along the shoreline and paradise ducks were swooping low before skimming across the water to land.

Buddy had other ideas.

The mudflats looked like the greatest playground ever invented.

For a brief moment I considered letting him explore, but common sense won. Between an enthusiastic dog, feeding birds and knee-deep mud, I could already imagine how the morning might end. So I took him back to the car before either of us caused too much disruption.

Waiting for the Kotare

Then I grabbed my camera and walked back on my own.

Sometimes that's when the best moments happen.

As I stood quietly beside a line of trees, I caught that unmistakable flash of blue.

A kotare, New Zealand's kingfisher.

Then another.

And another.

Once my eyes tuned in, I realised the kotare were everywhere. At least ten of them were darting between the branches and the mudflats, dropping down to snatch tiny crabs before returning to the trees. It was one of those scenes that could easily have gone unnoticed if I'd hurried past.

Instead, I stood there for ages, completely absorbed.

To make the morning even more unexpected, another photographer wandered over and set up nearby. We'd chatted a few times on Facebook but had never actually met. Neither of us realised who the other was until we started talking, only to discover we'd accidentally ended up standing side by side photographing the very same birds.

It's a small world.

This morning reminded me of another wildlife encounter I wrote about recently, when a fox cub wandered over to say hello in the allotments behind my London home. Different country, different creature entirely — but the same feeling. The world offering you something when you least expect it.

I came home with hundreds of photographs and a head full of ideas for future paintings.

But more than that, I came home feeling lighter.

I've realised that these mornings aren't just about collecting reference photos anymore.

They're about paying attention.

The paintings come later.

The real gift is the hour spent standing quietly while the world gets on with its day around you.

If I'd stayed home because it was too cold, or hurried back after dropping Buddy at the car, I'd never have seen those kingfishers.

Sometimes the best moments arrive just after you decide to stay a little longer.

I think this one captures exactly what The Quiet Wild is about.

Not chasing wildlife.

Not getting the perfect photograph.

Simply making enough space in your day for nature to surprise you.

If you're visiting Allandale Reserve during winter, take a few extra minutes by the mudflats as the tide comes in. You might be lucky enough to spot a kotare hunting for crabs among the shallows. Just stand quietly and watch. They're often closer than you think.

A few things people often ask me

Where can you see kotare in Canterbury?

I've photographed kotare in quite a few places around Canterbury, but Allandale Reserve has become one of my favourites. On this particular morning there were at least ten birds moving between the trees and the mudflats as the tide came in. Early mornings and a rising tide seem to be a good combination.

What do kotare eat?

Kotare are incredible hunters. On this walk I watched them repeatedly fly down from the branches to catch tiny crabs before returning to the trees. Depending on where they are, they'll also eat insects, small fish, skinks and other small prey.

Why do I photograph birds before I paint them?

My photographs aren't there to copy. They're reminders. They capture the colours, feathers and tiny details, but it's the feeling of standing quietly in that place that shapes the finished painting.

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