To me, animals aren’t just subjects. They are beings. They have personalities, routines, and relationships. When I’m out in the field, I’m not just capturing an image—I’m entering into a conversation, even if it’s one-sided. I’m reminded of Indigenous teachings that speak of animals as relatives, not resources. As teachers, not trophies.

Indigenous worldviews often emphasize interconnectedness—that all life is part of a greater whole, and that humans are not separate from nature but a part of it. This mindset mirrors the humility I feel when I’m face to face with a bear, an eagle, or any animal large or small. There’s a mutual presence, a silent agreement that I am a guest in their world.

I strive to photograph wildlife not just with precision, but with respect. I avoid disturbing animals or altering their behavior just for a shot. I want my images to reflect authenticity, not control. This ethical approach isn’t just professional—it’s personal. It’s spiritual. It’s about honoring the life in front of the lens.

In many ways, my camera has taught me what Indigenous elders have always known: that when we slow down and listen, the land and its creatures will speak. We just need to be quiet enough to hear.