The passionate eye of wildlife photographer Maxime Légaré-Vézina. words :: Feet Banks // Photos :: Maxime Légaré-Vézina.
Picture this: You’re hunkered down in your “hide,” a camouflaged tent the size of an outhouse but with a much lower ceiling. It’s mid-winter in Canada, a freezing time to just be sitting perfectly still. At your feet is an expensive metal Thermos with a couple mouthfuls of still-warm tea; beside it, a plastic bottle to pee in.
You’ve been here more than eight hours, shuffling incrementally from side to side to keep the blood pumping, clenching fingers to keep them nimble. Probably 95 per cent of the time the only things moving are your eyes, scanning the outside world through a 15-cm window in the hide. It’s cold, your joints ache, your stomach rumbles and you feel another piss coming on. By almost any metric, everything sucks.
And then the bald eagle you’ve been watching for hours turns its head in just the right way. Piercing yellow eyes stare directly at you and its snowy head feathers raise up a fraction to signal at another incoming bird. Your focus is crisp, and the silent push of a button fires up the motordrive on your mirrorless camera, capturing 30 frames in little more than a second. For a brief, frozen moment you’re the happiest person in the country.
You’re wildlife photographer Maxime Légaré-Vézina, and you just got the shot.
***
Saying patience is the key to wildlife photography is like proclaiming the sun an important part of daylight. Patience is a baseline necessity; it’s passion that makes a difference.
“I would say it’s [like] a disease,” Maxime says. “A lot of photographers have it, especially wildlife photographers. That fear of, What will I miss if I don’t go out this morning?”
It could be a baby and mother raccoon peering from their den in a hollow tree trunk, a photo Maxime captured in his home province of Quebec that was a finalist at the prestigious Montier Photo Festival in 2023.
Or it could be a woodland caribou trotting majestically through a winter forest, a tiny loon chick riding on its mother’s back, a pouncing fox, a wary lynx, a great horned owl, a moose, a cedar waxwing, a grizzly bear, a grey wolf. Name a Canadian animal and chances are Maxime has searched, waited, found and photographed it.
“For the first few years it was pretty intense,” Maxime says. “Photography was the only thing I wanted to do. My friends would ask me to go do things with them and it was always, ‘No.’ Now that I do it full-time, I’m more relaxed. If I don’t go out every day, it’s OK. I think that’s more reasonable.”
Born and raised in Quebec City, the now 34-year-old was a typical Canadian kid who spent weekends canoeing or hiking with his family. “As a teenager I had the same interests as pretty much all the young guys,” he admits with a hint of gentlemanly restraint. “We weren’t getting out into nature as much, you know? But when I turned 22 I just reconnected to it and that still drives my photography. Sure, I’m trying to capture what I see, but really I’m just finding a new way to connect to the natural world around me.”
Working at what he calls “the worst job I ever had” (selling insurance for a bank), Maxime’s photo career launched in 2014 after an argument with his then-girlfriend. “She had a camera and we’d both use it when we went out on trips, then argue about who had taken which photos. So I realized, OK, I should get my own camera. And then, quickly, taking photos was my entire life.”
These days, wildlife photography is the act of visually documenting animals in their natural habitats. And while people had been photographing birds and captive animals since the mid-1800s, National Geographic didn’t publish its first wildlife photos—white-tailed deer in Pennsylvania photographed by George Shiras III—until 1906. (Keep in mind that until the late 1800s a photograph required the subject to stand absolutely still for up to 30 seconds while the image developed on a metal or glass plate.)
Times have changed. In 2023, almost 55,000 photos were submitted to the Natural History Museum’s global Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition, up from 38,570 images the year prior.
Why do people love photographing animals so much? “It’s a good question,” Maxime ponders. “Why do I love them so much? Because they’re not human, maybe? I don’t know, but I feel like we get a glimpse into another world with animals. Some are fierce predators, some are super-cute. They can be graceful, powerful, and they all have their specific behaviours. It’s another reality.”
Since 2019, Maxime has been sharing insights and techniques on how to visually connect to animal worlds through photography workshops and tours. In 2022, he quit the security of his bank job (though he credits the hours—noon to 8 p.m.—as hugely beneficial, allowing him to shoot photos every morning) to become a full-time professional wildlife photographer, chasing images and mentoring others throughout the year and around the globe.
“I haven’t met anyone who learned wildlife photography by going to school,” he says. “It’s the kind of thing you learn in the field, usually by yourself. So, if I can help someone get started in the right direction, I enjoy that.”
Part of starting that journey on the right foot means understanding the rules of the trail ahead. These days, photographers are expected to be as non-impactful on animals and ecosystems as possible, and many competitions disqualify photos taken in a manipulated situation. Gone (for the most part) are the days of tossing chicken gizzards into a field to attract red foxes, or sinking a dead fish (or a live one in a glass tank) just below the surface of a lake to lure a diving osprey or torpedoing kingfisher.
“I haven’t met anyone who learned wildlife photography by going to school. It’s the kind of thing you learn in the field, usually by yourself.”
“Even when I started, just a decade ago, you would see photographers in Quebec feeding mice to snowy owls,” says Maxime. “I think it was more common here in the east than in BC, but either way, it’s an old way of thinking. The new generation tries to get more natural shots and be more respectful of the animal and their space. It’s much more rewarding when you get a photo because you waited for hours rather than threw the animal a live mouse.”
Part of the appeal of capturing images in the most natural way possible is that it requires a much closer understanding and respect—a bond, even—with the animals and the landscapes they inhabit.
“It started early for me, just learning the difference between bird species. For most kids, a bird is a bird—but for me it was a chickadee, a junco or a tufted titmouse. I still use what I learned when I was young. If I know a bird by its sound, or what ecosystems it likes to inhabit, or its behaviours, the mating season… all this knowledge is going to help me or the people I’m guiding to get the photos we want.”
In recent years, this knowledge expanded internationally as Maxime’s love of wildlife led him to toucans in the jungles of Costa Rica, flamingos in the highlands of Chile, wild horses in the south of France, and to Spain, Austria, Colombia and Alaska. On an annual Winter in Switzerland workshop, he leads a group into the forests, plains and mountains in search of ibex, chamois, ermine and more. But most photographic adventures still occur in his homeland, whose animals, according to Maxime, are as impressive as anywhere—and more laid back.
“Our wildlife seems a lot less skittish than in Europe. Even when animals are aware of me, they don’t care as much. A nervous animal stops acting natural—you see photos of a fox with his ears flat and you can tell that whatever is happening just isn’t right for him. I’m not after those kinds of shots. I prefer when an animal is relaxed, or accepts that I’m around. That’s when good stuff happens.”
Whether it’s because Canadian wildlife possesses a built-in national chill factor, or simply due to sheer numbers, Canada is a global leader in wildlife photography. A recent study analyzed more than 70 million user-uploaded Flickr photos and ranked Canada number two in the world for the ratio of national photos tagged “wildlife.” (Kenya—home to Africa’s quintessential lions, giraffes, elephants, rhinos, leopards, etc., took top spot.)
With 80,000 known species and 20 major ecosystems including tundra, boreal forest, grasslands, temperate rainforest, the world’s longest coastline and a healthy amount of mosquito-infested muskeg and bog, Canadians have more than enough wildlife to fill a career in their backyards. “My best photos come from here because it’s my home,” Maxime says. “I know the animals, the landscapes, and it’s a huge country. There are so many species in the mountains of BC and Alberta we don’t have in Quebec, but we have stuff here that’s unique, too. And I love shooting in winter conditions because of the frost and the snow. You can also get a good night’s sleep in winter. I can wake up at six—which is reasonable—and still be out in the field before sunrise. Many of the birds are gone, but I think winter delivers better photos.”
Regardless of season, success is never guaranteed. Maxime once went out every morning for three weeks without capturing a photo he liked. “I was like, Oh god, should I sell my camera? But I know it will always get interesting at some point, so I just keep going. If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
***
It’s predawn on a crisp March morning. Maxime is outside Quebec City at a spot he’s visited hundreds of times before. There’s still a bit of snow on the ground, but his attention is focused skyward. Northern hawk owls will soon begin their northerly spring migration, and Maxime hopes to get a photo of one with the moon setting in the background. With wildlife such a wildcard, incorporating celestial elements like the moon or northern lights takes time and work.
“The moon is supposed to set at 5:42, right over there,” Maxime says in a hushed voice. “I came yesterday and saw some whitewash [a polite way of saying “owl shit”] on that tree, and look—there’s an owl right there now.”
Perched atop a dead, lichen-covered tree, even in dim blue-hour light, its yellow eyes stare from a perfect half-dome head of brown and white. A cluster of sharp tail feathers juts down below the branch. Just 40 cm or so from head to tail tip, an adult northern hawk owl will eat several small rodents (or birds) a day. Maxime is just hoping it doesn’t spot one before moonset. The silence, the stillness—it’s all-encompassing.
“I’m crazy about owls,” he’d explained on the 40-minute drive out. “I’m always looking for them, and it’s not easy because they’re nocturnal, but owls have their own attitude that often feels like emotion. Like they’re angry you woke them up, or curious, or just focused on the hunt. Do animals have a soul? I’ll never know. But look into the eyes of an owl and there’s certainly something enigmatic there.”
The owl stays in position. To shoot in such low light, Maxime stops breathing and stays completely motionless as he depresses the shutter. “I don’t use tripods,” he says after a few dozen frames. “I have enough stuff to carry around.” He captures about 600 images before it’s time to leave, but the mission hasn’t been a success. The moon (but a crescent sliver) set in the exact spot where the sun rose. The new day had washed out Maxime’s vision—this time.
He’ll try again tomorrow.
***
Tips for New Wildlife Photographers
Exhibiting his photography two to three times a year in Canada and Europe, Maxime Légaré-Vézina’s Instagram account showcases more than 1,200 photos. A portfolio that deep makes the following tips certified gold for anyone keen on getting into wildlife photography:
Camera: Start off shooting in AV—aperture priority—mode. Many people want to shoot full manual, but don’t really understand how shutter speed, aperture and everything work together to manage the exposure. Full auto mode is no good because the camera doesn’t know what you want to shoot, so go with AV and the widest aperture (lowest F-stop) possible. You get a nice, blurred background with maximum light coming in, translating to the highest shutter speed, which is what you usually want for wildlife.
Framing: When you get your first big telephoto lens, it’s natural to want to zoom in to the max—but be careful. I was so excited, I zoomed so far in on a mink that I cut its tail out of the frame. I wanted the animal so bad I didn’t think about composition. I learned to calm down pretty quickly.
Weather: Animals know more than we do—like when a big storm is coming. Birds will often be out feeding more than usual before a storm because they know it might be a day or two before they get another chance. Think like an animal and watch the weather.
Parks: City parks are a good place to find animals, especially owls. You can go 100 kilometres into the wild but it may be harder to find an animal because they have so much more space. In smaller habitats like parks, they can be easier to find. They’re also used to seeing people around, which helps.
Snacking: Be careful. For instance, don’t eat apples in the hide—the crunch can scare animals.
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