There were photography subjects all around, and I was overcome with a sense of urgency. Elephant seal bulls were fighting, pups were being born, gulls were fighting over afterbirth, and I always seemed to miss the peak of the action. It seemed like I was either changing a flash card, hurrying down the boardwalk or just looking in the wrong direction when a staccato burst of shutters opening and closing would let me know that I just missed out on something else.

The elephant seals covered the beach almost as far as the eye could see. How could a person possibly point a camera in the wrong direction?

The other photographers would be congratulating each other with glad cries of, "Did you see that?" and "I can't wait to see it large on a computer screen," and I could only ask, "What did you see?" Having the other photographers get the shots wasn't a terrible thing since Cathy and I were there to help them get great photos. However, we were supposed to be the pros, and there were times when I felt pressured to produce stronger images than our participants were capturing.

Luckily I soon came to my senses (I usually do), and stopped to smell the elephant seal breath. I relaxed and almost laughed at the notion that it was even possible to look in the wrong direction. Elephant seals were stacked nose to tail almost as far as you could see down the beach, the surf was crashing against polished boulders, flowers were blooming behind us, and yellow-rumped warblers, white-crowned sparrows and Brewer's blackbirds made tough but tempting targets for the attentive photographer. In short, there were possible photo subjects in every direction.

I'm not the only nature photographer to fall into this self-defeating pattern. It's easy to get caught up in the competition, especially if the photographer in question is a professional or has some aspirations of turning pro. I'm most susceptible to this kind of thinking when the number of people signing up for our instructional photo tours declines. At such times, I feel we need to draw more attention to ourselves, and it can be hard not to look at our photo subjects in terms of their possibilities as contest winners or the subjects of prestigious articles.

It helps to remember why we picked up cameras in the first place. We became nature photographers because of an abiding love of wild things and wild places, an impossible-to-deny desire to be close to creation. And this is the ideal frame of mind to be in to capture those once-in-a-lifetime images. The mind is most receptive when it's celebrating our relationship with the natural world rather than being preoccupied with producing a mere product.

When it becomes more of a quest to find contest winners, it becomes harder to find and capture the images. It's easy to overlook possibilities when you chase too hard. Your own competitive nature is pushing you forward so fast you find yourself stumbling past some of the most interesting subjects.

Slow down, look up from the viewfinder every now and then, and observe the rhythm of the scene. We've found that when we stop and admire the world around us, the photos often happen right in front of us. One evening I was entranced by the surf, and even though I was carrying a huge lens for photographing shorebirds, I just stood watching something I couldn't even photograph. Then a flock of several dozen sanderlings landed next to me, at times feeding so close I couldn't even focus on them. It was my best opportunity of the whole afternoon.

Sometimes the photos will come to you, as these sanderlings did, if you just stop to admire the scene.

It's amazing how often something like this happens. In the Galapagos, it's easy to get caught up in an orgy of nature photography, running from one subject to the next. I set my camera down for a minute, just trying to take everything in. While I was sitting there a Galapagos flycatcher landed on my arm, paying no attention to the rest of the body the arm was attached to. I knew the animals here were very people-tolerant because they evolved in the absence of 2-legged predators. However, the revelation that we are often no more than a convenient perch just blew me away. I stood there with my finger out as long as the bird was in the area, and it spent a considerable amount of time on my finger. Which made sense since I was the tallest shrub in the area. The moment was nothing short of magical, and it is because of moments like this that I got into nature photography. On top of that, I'm now able to include "makes a convenient perch" in the list of accomplishments on my resume.

There's a whole world of photo subjects out there, and if you miss out on one, you'll get another - perhaps an even better one. The important thing is not to lose sight of what attracted us to this artistic endeavor in the first place, and to keep in mind that the real payoff is having the chance to be close to the natural world.

It may have been tough to shoot with one hand while this Galapagos flycatcher was perched on the other, but being trusted so completely by a wild creature was a priceless experience.

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Gordon and Cathy ILLG have been photographing wildlife for over 20 years. Their desire to capture unique images takes them and their workshop participants to new and favorite locations where opportunities are made the most of. Visit www.advenphoto.com to see more of Gordon's and Cathy's work and their tour schedule.