The 15 Most Heart-Melting Wildlife Moments I Was Lucky Enough To Capture

I had long dreamed of photographing the willow grouse in beautiful light. I often visit Nuorgam in northern Finland, and over the years I’ve become familiar with these remarkable birds. A few winters ago, I was skiing in the fells with my dog at sunset. The sky turned orange, then faintly pink. Ahead of me appeared what looked like a pile of white snowballs — but they began to move. It was a flock of ptarmigan, around a hundred of them.

I expected them to fly off immediately, especially with my dog nearby, but many stayed put, calmly nibbling birch buds as I passed. Some lifted only a short distance away. The pink sky reflected on the snow and the white birds glowed against the pastel backdrop. It was beyond belief — the photograph of my dreams.

I first traveled to northern Norway to photograph whales nearly ten years ago. That winter, I camped on a sandy beach beneath the northern lights. One morning, as I walked to warm myself, I noticed splashing in the fjord. To my amazement, humpback whales were feeding there. From then on, I have returned year after year, photographing both humpback and orca in the magical winter light between the mountains.

A few days later, I returned to the same area and encountered a hawk owl chasing one of the willow grouses. The light was again magical, even though the temperature dropped below –20 °C. My hair and face stung in the freezing air, yet I enjoyed every second in the fell, watching these birds. That winter was especially good for hawk owls — once, during an hour’s drive, I counted twelve of them. That must be some sort of record.

When we moved north six years ago, the first snow had just covered the landscape. On a short hike, Siberian jays — the wanderer’s companions — came to check whether I had any snacks. It felt as if they welcomed me to my new home, one where old forests remain. These birds are disappearing in southern Finland, where their habitat has fragmented, but here they are still a daily sight. Yet forestry threatens them even in these northern woods.

One of the most unforgettable encounters of my life was seeing the arctic fox in the wild. With a friend, I was on a photography trip in northern Norway. After a week of sunshine, puffins, waders, seals, and whales, heavy rains forced us to head home. On the return drive, something pale flashed in my peripheral vision — not a red fox. I turned the car around, and there it was: an arctic fox. My first ever. The meeting was brief; mist soon swallowed the animal, disappearing like a ghost back into the wilderness.

One winter day while driving along a snowy road, I suddenly noticed a large owl perched in a tree. A great grey owl, hunting for voles. It was the first time I had ever seen this majestic bird — what an unforgettable sight!

Capercaillie also live nearby, though I have yet to find their lekking grounds. Once, while searching, I accidentally encountered a magnificent male returning from his morning display.

Besides birds, the animal I most often meet on my travels is the moose. In northern Finland sightings are rarer, but in Sweden and Norway they are more common. Usually, they appear suddenly on roadsides in the evening dim, not in the picture-perfect mountain scenery I always imagine. But once, luck was on my side. Driving through a summer night landscape with mountains rising in the distance, two moose appeared. I was able to stop and watch them peacefully grazing, completely undisturbed by my presence.

In Northern Norway lies a small bird island called Hornøya. In spring, seabirds take over the island, and it’s possible to visit by boat. Access is restricted, and visitors must stay on designated paths to avoid disturbing the birds during nesting. One of the most captivating birds to see here is the puffin. They nest on the steep cliffs, and you can admire them from surprisingly close — as long as you respect their space and follow the rules.

On the way to Norway, I often stop at Kilpisjärvi to climb the slopes of Saana Fell. One winter day, mist floated over the village and the sky shifted from blue to pink. I hoped to see ptarmigan but instead spotted a mountain hare perfectly camouflaged in a rock crevice. I had dreamed of photographing one, and now there it was — watching me quietly from its stone shelter.

The haunting call of the black-throated diver (loon) on a summer night is one of my dearest sounds. One spring, just after the ice melted, the lake was alive with birds. Suddenly, a roaring sound grew overhead — a flock of loons, at least fifty. Then more arrived, perhaps two hundred in total. I held my breath, stunned. Even my birder friends doubted the story until I showed them photographs. It was likely a once-in-a-lifetime sighting.

In spring, the soundscape changes with the black grouse lek. At four in the morning, males gather on the lake, bubbling and displaying for females. Watching them means sitting motionless for hours in the cold, but the spectacle is worth it.

Not long after moving here, we discovered goshawks nesting near our home. Every summer, I watch the adults bring food, the chicks growing, and finally see their first flights. Sometimes the young birds even perch in our yard, curiously observing us. We may live on their territory, but they have accepted us.

For years, I have tried to photograph the otter that lives near our lake. I see its tracks and slides on the ice, but the animal itself remains elusive. Once, in –30 °C, I watched three otters fishing and playing, but heavy fog ruined every photograph. The scene was magical, yet I left without a single usable shot. Perhaps one day I will succeed.

The red fox is another animal that teases me. Though its tracks crisscross our yard, I have never seen it here. It remains a mysterious neighbor, but still out of sight at home – although I have photographed it several times on trips.