THERE’S a knack to photographing the Little Bee-eater. The picture you want is this: the bird is in mid-flight, its green shimmering wings flung wide and a just-caught bug clamped in its beak.
Precision timing, a steady hand and a little specialist knowledge are all essential. With the last of these, your pictures are transformed into the sort of images to grace a nature magazine, and without it, you are doomed to an endless succession of empty branches. If you’re lucky, you just catch a claw disappearing out of shot.
Paul Goldstein, an award-winning wildlife photographer who has coaxed, cajoled and demanded the best from amateur snappers for years, has that specialist knowledge.
I joined one of his safaris in Kenya’s Masai Mara, hopeful of returning with pictures worthy of a frame.
Within minutes of arriving at our luxurious camp, we were bouncing along in one of Paul’s specially converted vehicles (don’t, whatever you do, call them vans) in pursuit of a cheetah and her two cubs.
After barely half-an-hour in Paul’s company, it was already abundantly clear that he takes no prisoners.
“Stop mincing,” he yelled, as I fumbled with my kit while the vehicle jolted across the dry savannah.
My just-out-of-the-wrapping digital SLR body was eventually attached to a lens the size of a rocket launcher borrowed from a fellow traveller who had hired something even more substantial for this expedition.
We found the cheetah family bathed in honeyed afternoon light, with the mother looking wistfully into the distance. The scene was beautiful, but my companions had other ideas.
“They’re hungry,” said our guide, Patrick, setting off a flash of excitement in Paul.
“She’ll hunt. Go, go, go,” he cried.
We swung away from the deceptively languid scene, adrenaline racing, our eyes scanning the countryside for potential prey.
In the distance, a juicy-looking Thomson’s gazelle grazed near a thicket.
Small and spry – an ideal feast for a peckish big cat – the gazelle munched on rough, scrappy grass while we raced to find a perfect view should the cheetah give chase.
She was on the move by the time we stopped, slinking through the brush to within feet of the gazelle. Then, she pounced.
It was over in a second, the predator so close there was barely a chase. However, for a novice wildlife photographer, the thrill was intense.
Only afterwards did I realise I had caught the action on camera: the cheetah lunging from a swirl of dust, front paws stretched out to whip the gazelle’s back legs from under it.
I was helped by the fact that my camera was primed for the shooting action with aperture and shutter speed set to Paul’s specifications.
This was a relief. Had I missed it, words from our leader would not have been flattering.
The Mara has life in mind-boggling abundance and often we found sightings of the area’s smaller characters as enjoyable as the big predators.
We were not forced into a rigid itinerary – simply ticking off sightings and moving on – but we could stop for 20 minutes to watch a kingfisher, proud and portly like a town mayor, or delight in the antics of a warthog family racing away at first glimpse of a camera lens, their tails straining towards the sky like TV aerials.
The BBC’s Big Cat diaries were filmed in the Mara and many animals we saw on our trip were celebrities with – much to Paul’s disdain – cutesy western names. So famous is Shakira, the cheetah, that one fellow photographer described her as “the cover girl for Safari Vogue”.
Olive, from a much loved leopard dynasty, provided the most memorable experience of our trip, leaping into a tree only feet from our vehicle with her cubs to retrieve a kill.
Seeing a leopard at all is a privilege, but we could see the twitch of every whisker, the ripple of every muscle beneath the rich coat, her majestic head, intelligent eyes and really, really big teeth. It was breathtaking.
Leopard-spotting revolved around an area accurately described as “Smelly crossing”, a stomach-turner in the morning with its sulphurous stench.
Leopards love dense thickets around the edges of the stinky waterway and wild basil soothes the nose with its sweet, citrusy aroma as the jeep beats a path through the brush.
Huge crowds of wildebeest gathered for annual crossings of the Mara, heading for the Serengeti and Tanzania, and we watched in wonder as animals fought to cross the river, unperturbed as crocodiles picked off the occasional snack.
Our wonder grew when some on the other side forgot themselves and crossed back over.
Wildebeest, a sensitive species, can take hours to build up the courage to cross. So we took lunch, gazing at fish-bone clouds drifting across the cornflower sky and hearing Paul’s flamboyant language and pungent wit.
Of his jokes, the cleanest I can remember was, “Battle dress: warthogs” (war togs).
Fat crocodiles were “like Republicans at a breakfast bar”, and when you are looking for advice, “Just ask the doctor – the surgery is always open”.
“We work you hard, but we set the bar high,” he said, after one particularly long day.
He was not exaggerating. We left the delightful surroundings of our tents around 5am every day, before the sky betrayed even the first blush of morning.
Often, we were still out at sunset, chasing the dying light for a spot to take in the great billowing clouds as they bruised against a hot red sky. At these times, photographs came second to soaking up the astonishing beauty of the dying Mara day with a cold beer.
Returning to a hot shower and a drink around the campfire, we buzzed from the excitement of the day and waited sheepishly for Paul to appraise our shots.
“What is this?” he asked, contemptuously, of an unfortunately framed lion.
“You’ve cut its feet off. Delete.”
An attempt at panning was treated with more enthusiasm, not least because I had the audacity to try it on a leopard. To pan, you use a slow shutter speed and follow the animal with your camera while taking the shot, so the background is a blur of movement with the head sharply focused.
That’s the theory, anyway – most of mine were all movement and little focus.
Paul likes you to experiment, to approach photography with the same fiery passion that he has, and to sit tight and wait for the shot – all day if that’s what it takes.
You are well rewarded for your patience, with a deeper knowledge of your camera, wonderful memories and, of course, some beautiful shots.
Much is made of the idea that we have simply progressed from shooting wild creatures with guns to using camera lenses. While there are similarities – you must learn an animal’s habits to predict its movements – hunters aimed to stop the wildlife in its tracks, but we wanted the right light, a good camera and, of course, action.
Thanks to the eagle eyes of our guides, and Paul’s knowledge and unwavering enthusiasm, we had all in abundance.
Time to go: End of season (September-November) is best.
Kelly Macnamara was a guest on an Exodus Photographic Safari with award-winning photographer Paul Goldstein and local guides. Group sizes four to 12; minimum age 16. Nine-day package from £2,699, including six nights’ tented camp accommodation, return Kenya Airways flights ex-London, internal flights and transport by open-sided four-wheel-drive vehicles in the Mara.
Regional connecting flights include Glasgow from £32.50. Next departures are in June and September.
Exodus reservations: 0845 863 9601 and www.exodus.co.uk