Irish flowers come into bloom in late March through to mid-April. This shot was taken just as the blooms started to show. Within a couple of weeks the area will be in full bloom.

The raw side of nature photography is something many people tend to gloss over when debating the incredible experiences numerous photographers witness as they document the natural history of our complex and very wild planet. Late March brings a kind of quiet transformation to Okinawa. After the rush of winter migrations—the thunderous breaches of Humpback Whales offshore fade, the ghostly glides of Black-faced Spoonbills across tidal flats dissipate, and the slicing flights of Grey-faced Buzzards and Japanese Sparrowhawks overhead are but brief memories—there’s a slight pause. But it's only a momentary breath before the next chapter in the wild calendar of Okinawa unfolds. In the north, around the small farming village of Kijoka, the landscape shifts again. The Iris fields burst into bloom, and what first feels like a peaceful return to color and calm soon reveals something altogether different.

It’s here, amid the sea of violet blossoms and tall green stalks, that I find myself each spring, camera in hand, bearing witness to one of the most unfiltered spectacles of survival I’ve seen on this island. As the flowers stretch skyward, they call out for more than just admiration from passersby—they also draw in predators. Great and Little Egrets, as well as towering Grey Herons, descend on the fields like elegant executioners, their sharp eyes scanning every inch of cover. This isn’t just a chance to photograph birds in pretty flowers. This is the raw side of nature photography—a silent, swift massacre cloaked in beauty.

Frogs tend to be the main fare in these aquatic settings.

The moment a frog shifts or a lizard breaks from cover, the egrets strike with precision honed by instinct and necessity. I’ve watched geckos dangling helplessly from beaks, grasshoppers the size of sparrows wriggling in their final moments, and once, a small rodent carried away with terrifying ease. The tall Irises provide just enough concealment for the hunted—but only briefly. For a wildlife photographer, the contrast is captivating: elegance and brutality sharing the same stage. It’s a dance I return to year after year, compelled not just by the visuals, but by the story unfolding in every frame.

Eels for lunch..

One of the more surprising victims in this seasonal ambush is the small freshwater Japanese eel—known locally as Unagi. These slender creatures take refuge in the flooded irrigation ditches and shallow channels that weave through the Iris fields, and the additional crop fields that surround the Irises, often remaining hidden beneath the surface. But to an egret, movement is everything. I’ve captured images, like the one on the left, of eels being plucked from muddy water and swallowed whole, their sinuous bodies disappearing with disturbing speed. It’s a rare and sobering sight, one that perfectly captures the raw side of nature photography in all its unscripted honesty.

Along the outer edges of the field, where a narrow irrigation stream winds through reeds and concrete cutaways, the occasional flash of turquoise signals the arrival of another predator—the Common Kingfisher. Their presence is brief but electric. With their vibrant plumage and rapid-fire dives, they offer a sharp contrast to the slow, stalking grace of the egrets. I’ve often found myself torn between scenes—one lens focused on the brutal ballet in the Iris beds, the other waiting for that perfect shot of a Kingfisher emerging from the stream with a silver flicker in its beak. These moments are reminders that even in the margins, the raw side of nature photography is alive and thriving.

There’s a temptation to romanticize spring as a time of gentle rebirth, but these fields remind me that nature is never just one thing. It’s beauty and it’s blood. It’s the violet bloom and the shadow beneath it. This time of year in Okinawa is fittingly still within the slight grasp of winter. It's signaled by light rains and mist covered distant hills and is only befitting as the backdrop for the sobering reality of survival that these colorful fields so shield. In documenting these moments, I’m reminded why I do this—not to craft illusion, but to capture truth. This is the raw side of nature photography—not just the subjects we chase, but the reality that they themselves also live, and struggle, through. And if you wait long enough in the Iris fields, you’ll see it too.