Dave Small, Nature Photographer

by Tom Seymour

You might see him on a windy, sub-freezing morning, standing around some public landing on one of Maine’s harbors, camera in hand, gazing intently out at the water. Or he may be the one person daring, or perhaps stubborn enough, to brave the ice spanning the huge granite blocks that make up the Rockland Breakwater. Anything for a good photo.

Dave Small has a knack for being in the right place at the right time (thus the name, “Photos By Chance”). He manages to snap his lens while animals, birds and other wild critters are in the most unusual positions. Small recently photographed a snowy owl, a somewhat irregular visitor from far northern climes, with an expression that looked for all the world like a smile. The “smiling owl” photo made the evening news this past winter.

Seabird Photography

If it has feathers and lives on, near or even visits the sea, then Dave Small considers it fair game for his camera. And for all of that, Small says that he really isn’t a big-time birder, only a guy who likes taking bird photos.

Part of Small’s genius lies in his ability to see the novel or interesting in the mundane. Spiders, butterflies, moths, turtles, frogs and fish all make it into his photo collection. Wild plants, too, often present this intrepid nature photographer with classic photo opportunities.

While he hasn’t come right out and said it, it seems to me that Small has a special place in his heart of photographic hearts for seabirds. Which is why I agreed to accompany him on a bright but cold morning in early March. We planned to hit all the public landings from Belfast to Owl’s Head, hoping to find and photograph some interesting seabirds.

For a guy who says he doesn’t know much about birds, Small doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to identifying those distant, bobbing shapes out on the water. “Guillemots,” he will say, while I strain my eyes just to see the general shape of the barely visible birds.

So it was we set off one frigid, early-spring morning in search of seabirds for Small to photograph. Our first stop, the boat landing at Owl’s Head, had a surprise in store for us. Driving down to the landing and within a few hundred feet of the piles of lobster traps, floats and other gear that was stored for the winter just above the high-tide line, a deer ran from behind a nearby house, across the road and down along the shore. This was the last place on earth we would have expected to see a deer.

Intrepid Photographer

Regarding seabirds, things were quiet at the Owl’s Head public landing. A few herring gulls sported along the shore, but that was it. Then Small noted a bird hiding in a pile of lobster traps. The bird, a sparrow, finally came out and flew off. So it was on to the next site, this time at the mouth of Weskeag River in Thomaston.

We left the public landing and drove through the flat plain near Owl’s Head Airport. In the past, it was here that Small had made many interesting observations. But today, despite recent reports of a snowy owl working the short grass for rodents, the place was void of bird life.

Arriving at the Weskeag River boat landing, the usual complement of herring gulls flew by, but not much else was in view. We crossed the road and scanned the water upstream. There, we saw some activity. Small instantly recognized this for what it was, common mergansers going through their mating ritual. Small hoisted his camera and with his left hand, supported the telescope-like, image stabilized, zoom lens. “Click – Click – Click,” the shutter snapped as quickly as a string of firecrackers going off. Out of this, Small got some fine images of the mergansers splashing, throwing sprays of water.

It was good to get back in the warm truck, since the wind had freshened, making it feel even colder than it was.

Our next stop was Thomaston Public Landing. Here, we saw a distant loon riding the gentle swells, too far out for even Small’s mega-zoom lens to reach. So it was on to Rockland Breakwater.

Just getting to the Breakwater from the public parking area was a chore, since the steep, hillside path was covered with hard-packed snow, compressed by the passage of many human feet and not a few dog paws. But we finally reached the beginning of the Breakwater, only to find it 80 percent snow-covered. Where the snow had melted and re-froze, several inches of ice made for tricky footing. Also, ice bridged gaps between the huge, granite boulders that make up the Breakwater. If one of these broke underfoot, it would mean a sprained or broken ankle, at the very least.

We came to a point where I dared not venture further, but Small kept on, all to try to gain ground on an as-yet unidentified seabird. Finally, even the intrepid photographer admitted defeat and carefully made his way back to safety.

Belfast Bound

We headed back toward Belfast, our starting point. Several stops on the way drew our attention. The first was Rockport Harbor. This was completely frozen, lobster boats locked in by ice, unreachable. No seabirds here. But slightly upstream from the harbor, Goose River was open and more than 100 resident mallard ducks swam in every direction. The mallards were in their mating mode, too, and it was a dizzying sight to watch the weaving, darting ducks chasing each other. Small’s camera clicked some more.

On our next stop, Camden, photo opportunities were equally limited. Small was unfazed. “This doesn’t bother me at all,” he said. “I just am happy to be able to get out and take in our wonderful seashore.” Small mentioned his affinity for the sea. Ex-U.S. Navy, he grew up around water. As a young man, he amused himself by diving for scallops in winter, a chilly, daunting undertaking. “I didn’t realize how much I missed the sea until we moved to Aroostook County,” Small said.

We left Camden and headed for Lincolnville Beach, which, like the other stops, was seemingly bereft of sea life. A single loon and a few token herring gulls met us, but that was it.

Leaving Lincolnville Beach for Bayside, a small seaside community between Camden and Belfast, we were again amazed when a huge deer, obviously a buck that had shed its antlers, ran across the road in front of our truck. The deer stopped atop a hill on the south side of Ducktrap River. We tried for photos, but bushes intervened. Then the deer took off, ran downhill to the frozen Ducktrap River and bounded across and on to the far shore in less time than it takes to tell about it. So this was “deer day,” rather than seabird day. Small was immensely pleased to see the deer, even though it had failed to serve as a photographic subject.

Our stop at Bayside proved unfruitful and we headed to our end point, Belfast and the Passagassawakeag River. The tide was nearing high at this time, but birds remained scarce. A group of black ducks paddled in a distant cove, but were effectively out of camera range.

Driving Force

On the way back to drop me off at my car, I asked Small how he happened into nature photography in the first place. “I got my first box camera when I was seven years old,” he said. “Loaded with 120-millimeter film from the drug store, I used a hand-held magnifying glass to take close-up insect photos.

“I became real serious, though, in junior high school. Then, I got a 35-millimeter camera and took landscape shots. I began developing my own film. When I went in the Navy, I produced photos for the ship’s book. This was during a Mediterranean cruise.”

After the Navy, a move to Montana and further education brought out Small’s creative streak. The scenery was spectacular, the mountains and rivers begging to be photographed. Then, while attending university, Small became photographer and darkroom manager for the University Of Montana Police Department.

After graduation, Small moved to Fort Kent and, soon after, landed in Bangor, where he began fishing, hunting and taking wildlife photos. Living in Bangor, Small began working for the Bangor Daily News, where he met some legendary outdoor characters, including the late Bud Leavitt and also Tom Hennessey.

Small bought a digital single-lens-reflex (SLR) 35mm camera. “It was a long trip from a point-and-shoot camera to modern digital photography,” Small said. His acquisition of a 100-400 telephoto lens with an image stabilization feature capped his transformation to technology of the digital age. This lens enables Small to zoom in on distant scenes, such as the courting mergansers on Weskeag River. It also lets him take macro shots, in-depth and close-up images of plants, mushrooms and insects.

The quality of Small’s images speaks for itself. In fact, Dave Small photos have appeared in U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service brochures of Sunkhaze Meadows National Wildlife Refuge. Later, the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries And Wildlife (DIF&W) used a Dave Small image on their information sign at the R. Waldo Tyler Wildlife Management Area at Weskeag Marsh.

Additionally, wildlife biologists with DIF&W have used Dave Small photos in their presentations. Small spoke proudly of his photos of purple sandpipers working in some shoreline rockweed. The photos, which a biologist used in a special presentation, indicate a dependence upon rockweed for these foraging birds and, in turn, the need for their protection.

Given Small’s bona fides as a wildlife and nature photographer, it may come as a surprise that the man does not view his photography as a business or source of income. Instead, he said that his photos are for “conservation and education and are free for those uses.”

Small hosts a website with, at present, 2,023 wildlife and nature photos. He regularly adds to this collection. For fascinating views of Maine wildlife and nature in general, as seen through the lens of this dedicated photographer, visit: Photosbychance.zenfolio.com. Also, Small puts out regular photo collections of his field trips. These usually come out each week. To contact Small and get on his list, write him at: docfinsdave@gmail.com.