This winter, a field report stopped me in my tracks: a rare leucisticHokkaido red squirrel had been spotted in Obihiro, Hokkaido, Japan. Having spent years photographing the Hokkaido red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris orientis) — known locally as the Ezo-risu, a subspecies of the Eurasian red squirrel endemic to Hokkaido island — I have encountered hundreds of these charismatic animals, but never a white one. Albino individuals are extraordinarily rare, set apart by their ghostly pure-white fur and vivid red eyes. When a five-day break opened up between my 2026 Hokkaido photography workshop sessions, there was no deliberation. Obihiro was calling. 

We arrived in Obihiro after dark, settled into our onsen resort, and let the anticipation build overnight. The following morning, we made straight for the local park where the squirrel had last been reported. Within five minutes of arriving, we spotted a group of photographers wading through deep snow at the forest edge — a sure sign the squirrel was close. I had positioned myself on a snow-packed trail on the opposite side, and as luck would have it, the squirrel was moving directly away from the group and straight towards me. I didn't even need my Zeiss SF Victory 8x42 binoculars — this male was coming right for me. He clocked me at around 25 yards and shot up into a tree, where he paused and posed for just under five minutes. Then he descended, crept a little closer, and climbed again — another five minutes of pure, unhurried access. The whole time, the other photographers were scrambling to find my angle, but the moment he sensed them, he vanished. I came away with about 1,000 frames. I shot on the Nikon Z9 with the NIKKOR Z 400mm f/2.8 TC VR S, mounted on a Gitzo Series 5 tripod paired with the Gitzo GIGH4383LR Series 4 centre ball head—an Arca-type lever release head that is exceptionally smooth and fast to operate. That Gitzo has been with me for over twenty years and has never given me a reason to replace it. The newer generation is marginally lighter with a few added refinements, but if I needed a super-telephoto tripod, it would be the new Gitzo Systematic Series 5, 4-section without question.

On the subject of tripods — I have noticed a growing number of photographers heading out without one, and I genuinely cannot wrap my head around it. Why struggle to handhold a super-telephoto lens all day when a tripod or monopod lets you shoot at a lower ISO, maintain sharper images, and still take full advantage of sports vibration reduction at shutter speeds between 1/1250 and 1/4000s? Beyond the technical benefits, a tripod frees you up to actually watch wildlife — to scan with your binoculars, read behaviour, and be ready when the moment arrives. I photograph year-round, and over the years, I have watched friends sideline themselves for months with serious back, neck, and shoulder injuries from years of handholding heavy glass. There are exceptions, of course, but be honest with yourself: if every spare hour goes into being out in the field photographing, when are you conditioning your body at the gym to handle that kind of sustained load? Use a tripod. At the very least, use a monopod. Your images will be sharper, your body will thank you, and you will last longer doing what you love. 

If you would like to read more about the Nikon 400mm f/2.8 TC VR S, here is a link to an article I did last year on the Luninous Landscape.