Excerpt reprinted with permission. Snakes, text by David Badger, photos by John Netherton ISBN 0-89658-408-9 (Voyageur Press, 1999) Snake Photography Snake photography, John Netherton has said, is even more challenging than frog photography. Naturally, I assumed he meant that the speed of his subjects—and the risk associated with photographing venomous species—posed the challenge. During our previous collaboration on a book about frogs, I had marveled at John's patience in dealing with the slippery, long-legged creatures: all too often, they just wouldn't sit still. This time around, his subjects not only moved with the speed of lightning, some were also inclined to bite. Over time, however, I realized John meant something else. He was concerned, he said, with taking photographs that would give a distinct look to his subjects. "Many photographers depict snakes doing what comes naturally: lying outstretched, flat on the ground," John explained. "It was obvious I'd have to come up with some more interesting ways to photograph my subjects. After I examined the photographs of snakes in field guides and other volumes, I sensed this would be my hardest assignment." For a while, John seemed to favor head shots—sharp-focus pictures that revealed the full splendor of the eye, the beguiling curve of the mouth, the unusual pits on a pit viper or a python, and the enticing tongue. I especially liked his tongue shots, until he pointed out they all looked alike. "What do you think we should call the book?" John joked one day. "The Book of Tongues?" He had a point. Having already made fun of my affinity for "friendly" snakes (I had argued that photos of too many scary-looking specimens might spook the very readers who needed to see that not all snakes are intimidating), John was clearly evolving his own notions of what constituted viable images. Using Nikon F5 and N90S cameras and various lenses (including the Nikkor 200mm micro, 70-180mm micro, and a 20-35mm lens for desert work), John experimented with the range of lighting, utilizing his Nikon SB-26 and SB-28 Speedlights, and SB-21 Macro Speedlight. "I like to position one flash to light the snake frontally, and a second flash either for backlighting or sidelighting," John explains. "These little nuances can turn an otherwise flat-looking image into a far more pleasing photograph." Backgrounds, too, were a major concern. "I can't emphasize enough how important backgrounds are," he says. "A beautiful milk snake crawling in a clump of grass or lying flat on a rock might be fine for identification shots, but aesthetically it just doesn't work. And keep in mind, too much clutter distracts from the snake." While John was preoccupied with composition, lighting, film stock (Kodak Lumiere X), and other particulars, I was mostly worried he might get bitten. Fortunately, before leaving Tennessee to photograph rattlesnakes in Arizona, he made arrangements with a friend at Nikon to provide an experimental video contraption hooked up to a still camera. ("We moved the still camera in while watching the snake on a video monitor," John relates. "The camera was mounted on a monopod—like a pole. I wanted to be able to show the background and the cactus while the black-tailed rattler remained in the foreground.") For the most part, taking pictures of rattlesnakes in the desert proved less stressful than working under controlled conditions at some zoos. "In Florida, I was working with a herpetologist at a zoo, and the monocled cobra kept chasing us. The herpetologist had to keep grabbing it and pulling it back to where I wanted to photograph it. I was outside, low on the ground, and trying to get the sky in the picture. "Another time, we had a rattlesnake on an enclosed grassy area at a zoo, and I got bitten. But not by the snake. I was down on the ground and apparently rolled across a nest of fire ants. There I was, knocking them off—feeling a burning pain." While in Florida, John visited herpetologist Bill Haast, internationally acclaimed for his pioneering work with venomous snakes, which he milks for research labs to produce antivenom serums for hospitals. John was astonished by Haast's dexterity with serpents. "They roll in this metal cart with thrashing cobras and mambas—the snakes understand they're about to be milked and fed—and he opens it, and they flare up. Bill holds out one hand to get their attention and grabs them and then takes them to an area in his laboratory to extract the venom." (Two decades earlier, I had met Haast when he was director of the Miami Serpentarium. Then, as now, he would regularly inject himself with diluted venoms to build up conditional immunity to the occasional bites he endures while handling dangerous snakes.) In June 1997, midway through the photography for this book, John was preparing to drive to Reelfoot Lake in West Tennessee when he suddenly felt chest pains. He turned his van around and headed instead to a medical clinic, where he was diagnosed as having just suffered a heart attack. Within an hour, he was in a Nashville hospital undergoing an emergency angioplasty procedure for a blocked artery. When he was released a few days later, his cardiologist advised him to take it easy. Whereupon John—perhaps newly energized by the surge of blood coursing through his reopened artery—immediately rescheduled a photo shoot at the Nashville Zoo that had been canceled while he was in the hospital. Then, on what turned out to be one of the hottest days of the year, we took off early for a day at the zoo. "Actually, I knew that surgery was still a possibility," John later admitted, "and I expected the doctor might ground me. That's why I wanted to get those pictures." It proved to be quite a day. Ensconced in a back room where the herpetology staff houses specimens not currently on exhibit in the Reptile House, John set up his camera equipment and light stands and began photographing venomous snakes provided by curator Dale McGinnity. Unfortunately, a raccoon had sabotaged the room's air-conditioning system the night before, and everyone—especially John—began sweating profusely. (Later I learned that John's excessive sweating might not have been caused solely by the room's infernal temperatures. But that was after his cardiologist announced bypass surgery was necessary.) Meanwhile, three ravishing eyelash vipers, one enormous king cobra, several handsome Carolina pigmy rattlesnakes, and a few other specimens were carefully lifted out of their display cages for John to photograph. (I hovered a few feet behind John, nervous as always, but at the same time oddly exhilarated that we could stand so close to these deadly creatures without feeling any immediate threat.) And John got some spectacular photographs. From time to time, we would drag him out of the room for a blast of air-conditioning, and on these occasions he would set up his lights and take pictures of other venomous serpents behind glass. The green mamba ("just too dangerous to work with," according to McGinnity) also had to be shot from behind glass. "I used two flashes positioned off to each side and a black poster board to eliminate reflections in the glass," John explains. "I cut a hold in the center of the board where the lens protruded and used the adapter ring that holds the SB-21 Macro Speedlight to hold the poster board in place." One week later, after undergoing heart bypass surgery, John remained pleased that the zoo shoot had gone so well and that he now had those photographs under his belt. But under his shirt he also had a hole in his chest, and it took him longer to recover than anticipated. When his cardiologist finally said he could lift objects over five pounds (e.g., his camera) and resume work, I offered him an appropriately low-key subject: a pair of worm snakes. Other specimens were to follow, including—at long last—a green snake. Green snakes had been the subject of ongoing discussion for months. I had hinted I wouldn't write the text unless John photographed one, but the only green snakes he had managed to locate had been run over by traffic. Then Brian Miller, a colleague at Middle Tennessee State University, saved the day: encountering a beautiful green snake sunning itself on a road, he leaped from his car, caught the snake, and brought it to school for me to pass along to John. But that evening, after John drove to Franklin to fetch the snake, his van broke down; the only way to get the snake back to his studio in West Nashville, he concluded, would be by taxi. Sometime after 11 p.m., he finally stepped in a cab—the green snake tucked discreetly out of sight. John enjoys recounting this and other anecdotes about his photography for this volume—tangling with a cantankerous hog-nosed snake, chasing in the dark after a water snake that was pursuing a hapless toad, and watching the telltale eyes of a copperhead shift ever so slightly as he set up a shot. Yet, in the end, he feels there is something far more important to communicate. "I believe I have a responsibility to capture on film the varied behaviors that will convince people that snakes aren't the villains they're portrayed as in films like Anaconda," John declares. "For thousands of years, the serpent has had a stigma attached to it. That stigma isn't deserved. "Snakes are as varied in behavior, color, shape, and size as any other group of animals. And many are far more interesting." © 1999 David Badger Posted by David Badger on March 24, 2001 at 17:58:28: Dear Anne, Just wanted to pass along the sad news that John Netherton suffered a fatal heart attack March 16 and died at age 52. He was found on his couch at his Nashville home, with the television set still on. He apparently died peacefully in his sleep. A terrific memorial service was held on Saturday at Radnor Lake in Nashville, at the Netherton Overlook, which former U.S. Sen. Howard Baker had dedicated in his honor two years ago. (John was president of Friends of Radnor Lake, and his very first book was a collection of photos of Radnor Lake.) Best wishes, --Dave Badger John Netherton died suddenly on March 16, 2001. He is missed. To read John's obituary, go to: Tennessean.com Local News for 3/16/01 Other sites with interesting information about John Netherton. Outdoor Photographer John Netherton, one of this country's premier nature photographers, was named by American Photographer Magazine as a Friend of the Earth, citing his personal philosophy, respect for nature, and commitment to recording it with passion and sensitivity. His work spans three decades and captures moments of inspirational magnificence. His photographs inspire the viewer to experience the emotions of the place. John is known for his work in the environmental community and recently received the prestigious "Outstanding Tennessean Award" from Governor Don Sundquist. His photographs are used to help preserve natural areas and wildlife around the world. John's photographs have been published in such major magazines as International Wildlife, Natural History, Nature's Best, Birder's World, WildBird, Atlantic Monthly, Geo, Ranger Rick, Modern Photography, Popular Photography, Photo Pro, American Photographer, and Petersen's Photographic. His photographs of wading birds have been featured in National Wildlife, and his photo essay on frogs was featured in Audubon. Nikon World has featured John and he writes a regular column for Outdoor Photographer. John's work has been featured in twenty of his own books.

Or, to contact Dr. David Badger at the School of Journalism, Middle Tennessee State University, click here dbadger@frank.mtsu.edu

To post your own ideas or concerns about freelancing, click HERE

Monday, April 28, 2003 14:10