Are you lucky? Do you believe in luck?
Some say you can make your own... well, like the recipe for Coca-Cola, that's a closely guarded secret. You can't buy it, but I hear the harder you work, the more you get? Tennessee Williams believed that "luck is believing you're lucky" and Albert Einstein thought, "It's hard to detect good luck – it looks so much like something you've earned."
I do happen to believe in luck: this belief came to me the day I found myself face-to-face with a Golden Headed Lion Tamarin.
The following is all true…
Many years ago, I had a client that marketed stationery – not the most glamorous or challenging account – but they got involved with sponsoring animal conservation at Jersey Zoo, world-renowned for their work helping endangered species. We'd been commissioned to spend three days photographing their most prized specimens.
I can't find the photos – it was over 25 years ago, so I drew one from memory. There’s a reason I’m a photographer and not an artist…
First stop was a small island in the middle of a lake, home to the little golden-headed monkey. As I stumbled out of the rowing boat, I tripped over a rock. The keeper who was with me quickly said, "Obviously you know to move really slowly...?"
No, of course I didn't. I'll admit right now I was completely out of my depth, scrabbling for a foothold whilst drowning in panic. This feeling wasn't helped by the keeper telling me while paddling across, "We're really lucky to have you, you're a fantastic wildlife photographer!" My client had obviously told the zoo the biggest porky ever!
Back on my feet
While getting back to my feet – I'm tall so it takes a while – I had time to consider this genius advice. Thereafter, I moved as slowly as possible, avoided looking the animals in the eye, and generally pretended to be as boring and unthreatening as I could.
After a few minutes of leaning against a tree trunk, one of the Tamarins walked along a branch and eventually jumped onto the end of my camera. As it backed off, I got the pictures I needed, but not before the keeper said, "They never do this for me, that's unbelievable!"
She then radioed all her colleagues around the zoo, telling them how amazing I was, which helped immeasurably in getting everything we needed. The rest of that day and the next went well, my ego growing bigger and bigger as everyone greeted me like the messiah.
It was all fine until the Snow Leopard
Our final evening was Leopard time. Obviously, I wasn't allowed "in the cage," but I could go beyond the outer barrier right up to the wire. These were the days of film and Polaroid, manual focus, lots of faff. The little cuties just weren't playing ball, constantly hiding behind rocks and generally being a pain.
I'd been leaning against the wire with my fingers poking through, the nearest animal about 20 feet away. I turned around to get a film back from my assistant. As I released my fingers from the wire, I heard a huge crash from the cage.
Twelve inches away was now a rather angry-looking Snow Leopard literally hanging off the wire, its head level with mine. I hadn't heard anything until it landed just inches from me, clearly intent on dinner. Never have I felt so small, so insignificant, or so vulnerable, but at the same time genuinely in awe of this magnificent beast.
They hunt in the evenings
After I'd cleaned myself up, I sat down on the path next to the cage, looking rather pale, I suspect. The Zoo secretary happened to walk past, saw my look of shock and asked, "Are you OK?" Err, no, not really... Having explained what I was trying to do and the growly result, he said, "Oh, someone should have told you – they hunt in the evenings. Come back in the morning after they've been fed; they'll probably pose for you."
So I did, and they were pussy cats.
Luck is a thing, and knowing when it presents itself helps, but it's difficult to have success without it. That first stumble created a moment of huge luck, and as Lewis Hamilton is fond of saying, "It's not how you fall, it's how you get back up again that counts."