Parenthood
Western Lowland Gorilla in the forests of Gabon
Jungles are a funny place, when I’m there I spend my time questioning why I never get shoots sitting in a landrover filming lions in the Serengeti, but then as soon as I get home, fuck the landrover, I want to go deeper into the jungle, to the darkest spots, those little bits that still just say unexplored on the map.
Day after day, the trackers amazed us with their sharp eyes and intimate knowledge of the forest. Their skill led us to incredible gorilla encounters—sometimes just meters away—letting us witness tender moments and playful antics. Ipikalya and Malumbi, the youngsters, frequently stole the show with their climbing and games. Yet, it wasn’t all gorilla magic: elephants often made filming tricky, sending us scrambling for safety and keeping our hearts racing.
Filming wasn’t always easy. Rainstorms, jungle mud, and technical mishaps (from steamed-up lenses to laptops refusing to cooperate) tested our patience. Still, we managed to capture intimate moments—Kamaya’s imposing presence, mothers caring for their babies, and the gorillas’ daily rhythms across swamps and towering mangroves.
Occasionally, we swapped the camera for football matches with the trackers, building trust and good spirits despite the grueling shoot. Unexpected wildlife drama—like Kamaya asserting his dominance or an elephant charging—reminded us just how wild this place is.
As we wrap up, I’m filled with gratitude for the team, the trackers’ expertise, and—most of all—the remarkable gorillas who granted us a glimpse into their lives. Each day brought something new: a playful leap, a brush with an elephant, or a hard-won shot for the film. I’ll never forget the feeling of standing just meters from a chest-beating silverback, the jungle alive with possibility. Here’s to many more wild stories to tell!
Flocking Knot
What are you up to for the rest of the week?
Can you be ready in 2 hours, I need you to come to Norfolk!
And just like that I was off on my first shoot, not exactly how I expected it to go.
We drove to Norfolk that afternoon. My producer, Chris filled me in on the details on the way.
Every Autumn tens of thousands of these small waders make their way to Norfolk to gather on the mudflats.
With every tide, pushed by the water they make their way up the estuary towards Snettisham.
As the last of the mudflats gets covered by the advancing tide they take to the air. Like a furl of smoke, they rise off the water. Every twist and turn sends a lustrous shimmer across the estuary.
Knot cascade across the sky. Each wing beat drums and one by one the rhythm builds.
A change of direction reverberates across the sky.
The murmuration pulses with a life of its own.
Birds shatter, condense and implode again. No edges to define this shape.
A final flourish brings the last dance to an end. But even on the ground, the murmuration lives on, ten thousand individuals together as one.
Not bad for a first shoot!
Ecuador
Beginnings
It was 2021, almost a year to the day since the world stopped, that my international filming career finally started.
I found myself on the other side of the world. Deep in the high Andean cloud forest.
The forest was enveloped in a perpetual mist. The dampness clinging as we travelled through cloud.
Shapes and colours muted and softened, an other world.
And through the mist, a glimpse, a blur of motion.
Hovering effortlessly as if suspended by some unseen force.
Iridescent colours that shift and shimmer.
Every so often a break in the clouds would hint at the expanse of forest that surrounded us.
And then, overlooking the lush forest, Matt’s words hit me: “I hope it’s still around for my kids.”
We can’t leave only memories.
In Search of British Columbia's Coastal Wolves
I head to one of the last truly wild spots in search of one of Earths most charismatic predators
There is something about Wolves that has always drawn me towards them. Perhaps I relate to their social living. Maybe I just commend their ability to cling on in the shadows, even with a bounty on their heads. Or possibly it's just their wild, free nature that I aspire to.
So when I had a few weeks off work and was in Canada I knew exactly what I wanted to try to see.
So off I went, backpack, tent and a complete lack of commitments in search of a wolf.
The sign filled me with confidence but as I quickly learned, after decades of persecution, wolves are pretty tricky to see in the wild. Never the less, there's nothing better than being surrounded by nature and there was plenty of wildlife to keep me occupied.
After a week I was beginning to lose hope, maybe it was a foolish idea to try to see a wolf. But the next morning I got a lifeline. I still find it weird, and maybe if it happened on the first night and I hadn't had a chance to acclimatise to the island I would have been terrified, but when I woke up to find a set of wolf tracks right past my tent I was ecstatic.
I guess it put me in my place. The island was no longer mine, I wasn't the top dog, and that was good thing.
After over a week on the island, and having become content with the fact that I'd probably never see a wolf in the wild I continued with my adventures round the island. Then, as I round yet another head land, I spotted an unmistakable silhouette.
A real life wolf!
Having spotted me eyeing him from across the bay with complete admiration, he lay down and had nap.
What an animal. Without a care for me, he skipped casually across the beach as if to show off that it was his island and I was but a visitor. And a few magical seconds later he headed back into the forest, and I never saw him again. Probably a good thing, unfortunately, these days a wolf that's comfortable around people is a dead wolf.
