A morning at a black grouse lek starts already the evening before, as most wildlife photography days do.

I lay out the clothes already then. Warm layers, more than I think I will need. In March it can still be -20°C at night, even if the days feel like spring. Luckily tomorrow it will be more like -4c. It is easier to prepare in the evening than to think clearly at three in the morning.

I pack the camera gear carefully. My usual combination is the OM System 50–200mm f2.8 and 150–400mm f4.5. Between those two, I can handle most situations without changing anything in the hide. I add a 1.4 extender as well. You never really know where the birds will be.

I also prepare breakfast and pack proper snacks for the morning. Good food in the hide matters more than it sounds.

Before the Day Begins

The alarm goes off before four. Early enough to reach the lek in time, though it never feels that way when the room is still dark.

Even after many seasons, I rarely sleep well before a grouse morning. It is not excitement exactly. More like a quiet tension. You know it will be early, and you know it will be cold.

I eat something small, make tea into a thermos, and head out. I never drink coffee before going to a hide. It is a simple decision. There are no proper facilities there.

The drive takes about an hour. From the car, there is still a short walk with all the gear. I need to be inside at least one hour before sunrise.

While walking from the car to the hide, I could already hear the bubbling calls of black grouse carrying through the dark. In front of the hides, two Brown Hares were feeding. They jumped away at my arrival.

Inside the Hide

The first thing I do is prepare the cameras.

I take out spare batteries, memory cards, and the extender. Everything needs to be within reach. Once the birds arrive, there is no time to search through a bag.

After that, I light a small gel candle. It gives a little warmth and helps with moisture, but not much more. The cold stays.

Then there is nothing to do but wait.

I open the thermos and eat my breakfast. Warm porridge in a cold hide works surprisingly well. I have to thank Rob Canis for that idea.

Inside the black grouse hide, most of the work is actually quiet observation before photography even begins.

When the First Birds Arrive

The morning was still very dark, and unlike the forecast, cloudy. I had hoped for backlight images, but wildlife photography often begins with adjusting expectations.

Once I was inside and everything was ready, the hares returned to feed. For a while, I simply watched them playing in front of the hide while there was still too little light for photography.

I hear the first quiet bubbling calls.

About ten minutes after sunrise, six males appeared almost at once.

The lek builds slowly. Birds are moving in short jumps, turning sideways, showing their tails. The sound grows stronger as the light increases.

This is the moment most people imagine when they think about black grouse photography.

This is the moment I usually start with video. There is not enough light yet for good still images, but the atmosphere is already there.

Just Enough Birds

There are mornings when the lek fills with birds.

It looks impressive, but it is not always easy to photograph. When there are too many individuals, something is always in front of something else. Clean compositions become difficult.

This morning there are just 6 males.

It feels balanced. Enough activity, but still space between the birds.

One female appears briefly at the edge of the lek. The reaction is immediate. The males become more active, more focused. Short chases, small fights, constant movement.

Their breath is visible in the cold air when the light comes from behind. Small details like that are easy to miss if you only think about the action.

A Sudden Silence

The activity lasts for an hour. Snow has already gone this spring, and the lek is now bare sand. When the birds fight, dust rise around them, giving the images a completely different feeling from snowy mornings.

Then, without warning, everything stops. All the birds leave at once.

Something has disturbed them. I did not see what. Maybe a passing raptor, maybe something else. The lek becomes completely quiet.

I stay.

This is normal. It does not always mean the morning is over.

I make tea, eat something, and turn on the heating in my vest. The cold feels different when you are no longer focused on photographing.

After about twenty minutes, one bird returns.

Then the others follow.

The End of the Morning

Around half past eight, all six birds left at once. Often the end of the morning offers a chance for flight shots, with birds leaving individually. This time, everything happened too quickly.

The planned backlight never came, but the cloudy sky brought something else — soft, even light for the whole morning. On clear days, the light changes much faster.

While cleaning the hides afterwards, a single male flew back over the lek to check the place once more. Perhaps he would have landed if I had not been standing there in full view.

On the Way Back to the Car

Spring is a demanding time for a wildlife photographer.

The mornings are early. The nights are short. And I am not a natural morning person.

But still, every time I walk back to the car, I feel the same thing.

It was worth it.

The black grouse lek is where spring really begins for me. And even after many years, no two mornings feel the same.

This spring has felt quieter than usual on many leks. I have heard similar comments from elsewhere in Finland too. After a long, very cold winter with little snow, I find myself wondering if it affected the Black Grouse population.

If you are planning your own visit, I wrote separately about Black Grouse hide photography and what to know before you go.

If you want to see how these hides are set up in practice, you can find more details here: Black Grouse hides in Oulu Region