Before Dawn in Quebec – Charles Dion
June 13, 2026
For Dutch photographer Hans Overduin, bird photography isn’t about trophies or technical tricks. It’s about atmosphere. About being outside. And about those brief moments where light, landscape and subject fall perfectly into place.
“I photograph almost everything wide open,” Hans says. “People often think the blur is added afterwards, but it all comes straight out of camera.” That signature look – soft foregrounds, dreamy colours and sharp eyes emerging from layers of blur – has become recognisable.
Hans prefers diffuse light over sunshine and often photographs through reeds or branches to create natural depth, in-camera rather than in post-production. “The challenge with such shallow depth of field is that the eye has to be sharp. I don’t care if the tail already disappears into softness.”
Hans has been photographing for nearly fifty years, he says. Ever since he was 6, his father encouraged him to use a camera. But birds entered the picture later, during long cycling journeys with his wife. “When you spend weeks travelling through nature, birdwatching becomes inevitable. And then I realised it was the perfect combination: I love being outside, I love photography, and birds are everywhere.”
That connection to nature still defines his work today. Even when travelling abroad, Hans isn’t chasing exotic colours or checklist photography. “I’d rather photograph a wader in Scandinavia than a brightly coloured bird in the Amazon”, he says.
It’s a quiet preference that runs through all his images. Looking back at his work from the past six months, small birds and soft spring light are prominent. As we go through some of my favourite images, Hans explains how atmosphere always comes first.
One bright yellow tone immediately stands out among all the soft colours. But the striking colour has everything to do with the modest little bird hidden within the frame: a sedge warbler. It turns what many dismiss as a “little brown bird” into something vibrant and graphic against bright rapeseed fields. Hans jokes: “Many people find little brown birds boring. But look how the yellow background makes them shine!”
He admits the flood of bluethroat images appearing on social media every spring makes him roll his eyes – even though he’s usually among the first to post some himself. “I find it annoying, but I’m no better than anyone else. Spring simply starts with bluethroats. Not because they are rare, but because they bring colour back into the landscape after winter.”
He increasingly avoids crowded hotspots. That search for intimacy often pushes him to experiment with perspective and foreground. In one nightingale image, a distant light source aligned perfectly behind the bird, creating something that almost resembles moonlight. “It suddenly brought the ‘night’ into the nightingale.”
During a recent trip to Morocco, Hans photographed the critically endangered African Marsh Owl, a species pushed to the edge by disappearing wetlands and expanding agriculture. “What you actually see in that image,” he says, “is an owl sitting in the middle of its own destruction: a strawberry field on massive agricultural land.”
The trip also brought lighter moments. One image shows a little owl in a pose that resembles a conductor asking the orchestra to play more quietly. “Sometimes you just get lucky,” Hans says.
“During our short stay in Morocco, we repeatedly encountered Little Owls, often while waiting for a Marsh Owl to appear. Most kept their distance, but one pair turned out to be unusually relaxed around people. One of the two was completely unimpressed by us and our long lenses! It allowed us to approach incredibly close across an open field.”
At one point the bird began stretching and posing, seemingly unconcerned by the photographers lying in the grass nearby. “And we just kept clicking away,” Hans laughs.
“When I go somewhere hoping for one species and it doesn’t appear, I just start looking around for something else. You’re there anyway.”
That openness led to one of his favourite recent moments: while unsuccessfully searching for a kingfisher, he suddenly heard a firecrest calling beside the path. “The colorful start to the year turned out to be a completely different bird than planned.”
Again and again, Hans returns to the same idea: photography should remain enjoyable. Curious. Unforced. “I’m not really interested in standing in line with fifty photographers. I’d rather quietly find my own moment.”
Maybe that is exactly why his work feels so personal.
“The Boris is the ideal combination for me. It works as carry-on luggage on most airlines, keeps all my gear organised, and the backloader design simply makes much more sense outdoors.”
“When walking with heavy telephoto lenses, the Lens Carrier makes a huge difference. It keeps my hands free and removes the strain from carrying everything on one shoulder.”
All images © Hans Overduin
