In recent years, wildlife photography has been forced to look at itself more carefully. Questions about ethics are no longer optional. Photographers, guides, photo competitions, and organizations are all expected to take responsibility for how wildlife images are made.

This is a good thing.

Wildlife photography should be ethical. It should respect animals and nature. And it is entirely reasonable that photography competitions try to guide photographers toward responsible behaviour.

After recently reading the rules of several major wildlife photography competitions, and even discussing some of them with organizers, I found myself asking a simple question.

Do these ethical rules always make sense?

Because sometimes, when you look closely, they start to feel… strange.

Not wrong in intention. But oddly inconsistent.

And occasionally almost absurd.

When Commercial Hides Become “Unethical”

Some competitions now classify commercial hides as a form of high disturbance.

The explanation I received from one competition was interesting. According to the organizers, photographs taken from well-known hides are often similar. Judges want creativity and originality, and familiar locations may reduce that.

That argument, in itself, makes sense.

But for me, the question of disturbance looks very different.

In my own experience, a hide is often one of the least disturbing ways to photograph wildlife. The photographer arrives before the animals, settles in, and waits. There is no movement across the landscape, no approaching, no adjusting distance. The animals arrive on their own terms, or they do not arrive at all. And importantly, the photographer leaves only after the animals have gone.

This is very different from what often happens in the open. A person moving in nature can easily, even unintentionally, approach too closely. Excitement takes over, distance disappears, and the animal leaves. That kind of disturbance is common, even among well-meaning photographers.

From that perspective, it feels strange to describe hides as “high disturbance.”

Which brings us back to the original argument.

If the real concern is that images from well-known hides start to look similar, then the issue is not disturbance. It is repetition.

And those are two very different things.

Creativity and ethics are not the same thing.

It is completely understandable that competitions want to avoid endless variations of the same photograph from recognizable locations. Wanting something new is reasonable. But framing that preference as unethical behaviour, or as high disturbance, does not feel accurate if the real issue is simply a lack of novelty.

How Much of Wildlife Photography Is Truly Independent?

The response I received from the competition stayed with me, because it also raised a broader question about how wildlife photography actually works in practice.

Surprisingly many forms of wildlife photography are already structured in one way or another.

On a safari, the driver decides where to stop. On a boat, the captain chooses the route. In a workshop, the guide selects the location, the time, and often even the direction of light. The photographer steps into a situation that someone else has already found and prepared.

In those moments, the role of the photographer becomes quite simple: observe and react when something happens.

That simplicity is not a criticism. It is also one of the reasons why these forms of photography are accessible and popular.

Of course, creativity still exists inside these situations. A photographer may choose a different exposure, experiment with motion, or use foreground elements to shape the image in a more personal way.

But in many ways, this is not so different from working in a hide.

You can take the same photograph that many others have taken before.

Or you can look a bit longer, wait a bit differently, and try to interpret the situation in your own way.

The Curious Case of Feeding Wildlife

Feeding wildlife is another complicated topic.

In northern winter conditions, feeding birds or animals near hides is often used simply to help wildlife survive the harsh season. It also creates opportunities for photography.

In many warmer parts of the world, something similar happens around water sources, where animals gather during hot and dry periods. In both cases, the location naturally concentrates wildlife and creates opportunities for images.

Yet in many competition rules it is feeding that is explicitly prohibited, while photographing at waterholes is rarely questioned.

One competition described feeding at commercial hides as:

“High induction, as it creates dependency.”

But in the same explanation, garden bird feeders / Butterfly feeders were classified as:

“Light induction, if not part of a photographic business.”

So the same feeding behaviour either creates dependency or does not — depending only on whether money is involved. Waterholes, which concentrate animals in exactly the same way in many parts of the world, rarely seem to raise the same concern.

From an ecological perspective, that distinction feels questionable.

Personally, I would fully understand if a competition simply banned feeding entirely — and applied similar rules to waterholes that deliberately concentrate wildlife. That would at least be clear and consistent.

But banning feeding because it is commercial, while allowing the same behaviour in private gardens and rarely questioning artificial waterholes elsewhere, begins to feel like a double standard.

The Curious Case of Sound Lures

Another practice that appears in competition rules is the use of sound to attract wildlife.

Some competitions prohibit all forms of attraction — whether it is feeding, sound, or other methods. That approach is at least clear and consistent.

But in other cases the situation becomes more confusing. Feeding may be prohibited as unethical, while other forms of attraction — such as sound lures, scent lures, or playback — remain acceptable.

Personally, I find this distinction difficult to fully understand.

When wildlife is fed, the animal at least receives a reward for approaching. Food has a direct benefit, even if the broader ecological implications can be debated.

Sound lures work differently. A bird may respond to what it believes is a territorial rival, flying in to investigate or defend its territory. It spends time and energy responding to the call, often leaving its nest or abandoning other activities, only to discover that the rival does not exist.

In that situation the animal receives nothing in return for its effort.

For reasons that are not always explained clearly, many competitions still consider playback to be more acceptable than feeding.

Perhaps there are good arguments behind this distinction. But from a behavioural perspective, the difference is not always as obvious as the rules sometimes suggest.

The Zoo Exception

One competition went even further.

All feeding was banned as unethical.

But photographs taken in zoos were allowed — as long as the caption mentioned it.

This is where I truly struggled to follow the logic!

How can animals living their entire lives in cages be considered ethically acceptable subjects, while feeding free animals in nature is not?

Perhaps this perspective varies by region. Perhaps my view is simply very North European?

Still, the contrast is hard to ignore.

The Silence Around Safaris

Another curious detail appears when reading competition rules: safaris are rarely mentioned at all.

If you have ever joined a safari in Africa or Asia, you know what it looks like.

Dozens of vehicles racing across the park to find a lion, leopard, or tiger. Once one vehicle spots the animal, word spreads quickly. Within minutes, cars arrive from every direction.

Dust rises. Engines idle. Vehicles compete for the best position.

Sometimes fifty or more vehicles gather around a single animal.

From an ethical standpoint, this is hardly invisible disturbance.

Yet safari photography is rarely discussed in competition guidelines.

One explanation I received was simple: it is difficult to verify whether an image was taken during a safari.

That may be true.

But the result is interesting. A large percentage of tiger or lion images submitted to competitions almost certainly come from safaris. Very few photographers independently search for these animals alone in the wild. And on most safaris, several vehicles end up surrounding or pursuing the same animal.

Often the origin of the photograph is quite obvious. Yet safaris are rarely mentioned in the ethical guidelines of competitions, while feeding wildlife or using commercial hides is specifically highlighted as unethical in many of them.

The Economics Behind Ethics

There is also another factor that is rarely discussed openly.

Money.

A hide visit is something many photographers can afford at least occasionally.

But African safaris, Arctic expeditions, or Antarctic cruises are experiences only a small number of photographers can afford.

So one begins to wonder what direction the rules are really encouraging.

If commercial hides are labeled unethical, but safaris remain unmentioned, what message does that send?

Are we slowly moving toward a situation where:

• photographers with limited budgets photograph wildlife in zoos
• photographers with large budgets photograph wildlife on safaris

That feels like a strange conclusion.

What Shapes the Rules?

Why do the ethical rules of wildlife photography competitions sometimes appear so inconsistent? What forces are actually shaping them?

Photography competitions depend on participation. They need enough photographers submitting images to remain relevant and viable. At the same time, there is increasing public pressure to show that wildlife photography is done responsibly and ethically.

Balancing those two realities is probably not easy.

So one begins to wonder where the lines are really coming from. Are competition organizers always fully aware of what happens in different types of wildlife photography situations — for example on busy safaris? Or is it sometimes simply easier to avoid questioning what for many photographers is still seen as the ultimate dream: a trip to photograph wildlife in Africa?

Meanwhile other practices, such as feeding wildlife or photographing from commercial hides, are easier to regulate or prohibit in the rules.

Zoo photography adds another layer of complexity. Some competitions allow it if it is declared in the caption. Perhaps there are arguments related to education or conservation. Or perhaps my own perspective is simply too narrow.

I realize that my view may also be strongly shaped by a Scandinavian way of thinking about nature. Here, the freedom of the animal and the idea of minimizing disturbance are central values.

From that perspective, a photographer sitting quietly in a small hide, waiting for wildlife to appear on its own terms, does not immediately feel like the most disturbing situation — especially when compared to some of the practices that competitions currently allow.

Be Careful What You Measure

Many years ago, during my university studies in business, I learned something that stayed with me.

A simple principle from management:

You get what you measure.

If you measure the wrong thing, people will optimise for the wrong thing.

Wildlife photography competitions are powerful cultural forces. They shape what photographers aim for and how they work in the field.

So the ethical rules behind them matter a great deal.

My intention here is not to accuse any competition or organizer. The topic is genuinely difficult, especially on a global scale where cultures and practices differ widely.

But if you have ever felt that some of the rules seem inconsistent, or that they may unintentionally guide photographers in the wrong direction, perhaps it is worth talking about it openly. Conversations like this are often where better solutions begin.

Perhaps it is time to ask a simple question:

Are the current rules really guiding wildlife photographers toward more ethical behaviour?

Or are they sometimes encouraging something quite different?

Because if we care about ethics in wildlife photography — and we should — then the conversation must remain open.

And if this topic resonates with you, feel free to share the article and continue the discussion.