Deon De Villiers always believed that we’ve marvelled at images of Africa’s great wilderness and dreamed of capturing our own. Yet, when you’re out there, camera in hand, it’s never as simple as point and shoot. There always seems to be one obstacle or another.
Where Wild Things Roam spoke to Deon about his time in the African bush taking photos. This is what he had to share.
For me, the perfect shot requires far more than a good eye and an expensive camera.
Location is everything. Anyone can find lions in the bush, but can you photograph them without clutter? Too often, leaves, branches, or even a backdrop of other safari vehicles creep into the frame and spoil the magic. The right setting—not exposure settings, but the place and conditions—makes or breaks the shot.
I learned this truth through decades of experience across Southern Africa, from South Africa and Botswana to many other regions beyond. Having managed luxury safari lodges for years, I came to understand not only wildlife but also where photographers are most likely to find uncluttered, compelling scenes. Every safari is special, but for a photographer, real satisfaction comes from returning home with clear images that tell a story. At the same time, I always remind myself—and my clients—to put the camera down occasionally. Nothing compares to being fully present with Africa’s magnificent wildlife.
More than a “One-Size-Fits-All” Safari
That same philosophy underpins the journeys I design through Safari Guru. I’ve never believed in one-size-fits-all itineraries. Every traveller has unique expectations. A family with children may need a completely different style of trip compared to a seasoned photographer chasing a perfect leopard shot. The camps, the landscapes, even the pace of travel—these details must align with individual preferences.
Having lived the corporate lifestyle in Australia before returning to my African roots, I also understand what my clients often seek most: not just another holiday, but a deeply personal journey that’s tailored to them.
Tips from Behind the Lens
For those planning a photographic safari, I always recommend a versatile camera body and a strong telephoto lens—something in the 200–400mm range is ideal. In a vehicle, a beanbag is often more practical than a tripod, and patience is every bit as important as gear. The bush moves on its own time. Sometimes the difference between a good photo and a truly extraordinary one is simply waiting that extra ten minutes.
In the end, it’s about balance—between chasing the shot and living the moment, between technology and instinct. What we really capture isn’t just an animal in focus, but the memory of being there, in Africa’s wild heart.
Through My Lens: A Rare Pangolin Encounter
In all my years photographing wildlife across Africa, nothing compares to the thrill of encountering a pangolin in the wild. These shy, nocturnal animals are like ghosts of the bush—so rarely seen that many lifelong safari-goers never lay eyes on one. For me, capturing a photograph of a pangolin was not just a stroke of luck, but an unforgettable experience of patience, conservation, and sheer wonder.
It happened in South Africa’s remote North West Region. We came across a pangolin that had become tangled in an electric fence—an all-too-common danger in these parts. Instinct took over, and we carefully freed. Its instinct was of preservation, and it immediately curled into a tight ball. Its incredible armour of scales shielding it from the world. I knew better than to rush it. So I sat quietly, waiting, giving it space to decide when it felt safe again.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Still it remained curled up. I didn’t mind—I’ve learned that wildlife photography is as much about patience as it is about timing. Finally, slowly, it unfurled. I held my breath as it lifted its head, exposed its face just long enough for me to capture a few frames, and then scurried off into the scrub. That single moment—fleeting, fragile, and perfect—became one of the most meaningful images I’ve ever taken.
For me, that pangolin symbolised much more than a rare photograph. These animals are among the most trafficked in the world, hunted for their meat and scales. Every pangolin is unique—its scales bear scars and patterns like fingerprints, telling its life story. Protecting them is vital, and I felt privileged to have shared a moment of connection with one.
Two years later, fate handed me an extraordinary gift. While leading a walking safari in the very same region, I saw another pangolin. As I looked closer, I realised it was the same animal I had once rescued, recognisable by its distinctive scales. That recognition left me speechless. To cross paths again was almost unimaginable, a reminder of how deeply our lives are intertwined with the wild.
For me, the true reward isn’t just the photograph—it’s knowing that this pangolin survived, still roaming free in its natural world. That’s the story I’ll carry with me forever.
