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A New Story from the Eastern Rhodopes… 10 Years Later!
15.02.2025 y.
Over the past 7–8 years, my life and priorities have changed significantly. Fatherhood has kept me away from wildlife photography for long periods, and my camera bag has mostly been gathering dust on the shelf. I've completely forgotten what it feels like to "break free," like in those wild years when I would disappear for days, dedicated solely to photographing wildlife.
Now, the main time I can devote to photography is during the wildlife photography workshops I lead. Between work commitments and visiting photographers, I sometimes manage to "steal" a few shooting days for myself.
And that’s exactly how the story I’m about to tell you begins!
It was the second half of February 2025. This time, unusually, I was photographing with just one photographer – Pamela from Northern Ireland. In fact, she is not just a colleague but a good friend with whom I’ve kept in touch for years. It seemed like she also needed an escape from work obligations because she requested a private workshop focused on birds of prey and terrestrial predators.
No sooner said than done!
One of our favorite places, of course, is Madzharovo – specifically, Master Marin's hide for birds of prey and mammals. We planned to spend three consecutive days there.
I realized that just the two of us in the hide would make us much quieter and more careful, increasing our chances of seeing some of the more cautious visitors to the feeding site.
In the early morning, at the agreed time, we met with Master Marin. We quickly loaded up and set off.
As the Delica crawled slowly but steadily up the hill toward the hide, we had a quick chat about recent activity at the feeding site. Marin shared that, besides the usual griffon vultures, black vultures, and golden eagles, jackals and foxes were also around, and recently, even a wolf had appeared.
I always go out to photograph without specific expectations, but hearing such information fills me with hope and fuels my dreams... 
Before we knew it, deep in conversation, we arrived at our destination. We stopped in front of the hide, and Pam and I quickly slipped inside. Handing our gear down from the car like a human chain, we transferred everything in. While Marin handled things outside, we set up our tripods and cameras, all the while letting the car engine run to mask any unavoidable noise from our preparations.
We were ready. One last check of our lenses from outside, thumbs up through the glass for luck, and the Delica began its slow retreat down the road.
Soon, the engine faded into silence, and to our right, the horizon turned pink – the sunrise was coming. This is one of my favorite moments... You’re all set, the light is approaching, and in complete silence and eager anticipation, you prepare to sip the magic of the wild.
We didn’t wait long. Even before dawn had fully broken, the massive silhouettes of griffon vultures began to emerge from the darkness. They glided low over the feeding site like motorless aircraft, surveying the area. Some landed on the site, about 40 meters in front of us, while most preferred to perch on the rocks above the hide, where they could oversee everything happening in the area. This was not unusual – they often use this tactic.
What was more interesting was that those in front of us did not immediately rush to the food. Instead, they lingered on the rocks, grumbling and occasionally peering down the slope, tracking something hidden from our view. We didn’t have their vantage point from inside the hide, so we could only guess what was troubling them.
Then, suddenly, the tranquility exploded! The vultures took off in a frenzy, their flapping wings filling the air with sound and chaos.
Wolf! – that was my first thought.
I whispered to Pam that such a reaction could occur if a wolf appeared, a large shepherd dog, or – heaven forbid – a person (though I had never encountered that here before).
Moving quietly, I approached the small rear window of the hide and peeked out—the vultures were still gathered above the road, and some of those that had taken off in front of us had already rejoined the group.
I returned to my spot. Silence fell. Our eyes remained fixed ahead, waiting for the "cause" that had startled them to reveal itself.
About 30 minutes passed – nothing. Just silence and tense anticipation.
And then, from the same direction where the vultures had been staring earlier, three golden jackals emerged. Three!
I had seen jackal-vulture interactions many times – I knew that these particular predators wouldn’t typically cause such a panicked reaction in the birds. But was it possible? Could it be that if all three jackals had attacked in perfect sync, the vultures would have been scared off?
Observing the animal world always makes me seek explanations. I love asking myself questions and trying to decipher them through observation. Often, the answers never come. But sometimes, if you're patient enough, the picture unfolds before your eyes.
While I was contemplating this, some of the griffon vultures began to return. One by one, they reclaimed the spots they had fled from in panic earlier. Their eyes were locked onto the jackals.
The jackals were pacing back and forth, noses pressed to the ground, searching for something. Occasionally, they bared their teeth menacingly at the vultures and even made quick sprints to chase them away from the feeding site. Their efforts were unsuccessful, but their behavior was fascinating to watch.
I noticed a clear hierarchy among the three. The smallest jackal regularly received hostile looks from the dominant one. Sometimes, it was even chased off with a menacing snarl, a clear display of dominance.
The air was thick with tension. The vultures watched the jackals. The jackals watched the vultures. And we watched them all.
As they roamed the terrain, the jackals found food and pounced on it, which provoked the already settled vultures to dive into a noisy, chaotic feeding frenzy, accompanied by fierce clashes and sounds reminiscent of dinosaurs (not that I’ve ever heard an authentic dinosaur sound, but I’m convinced they must sound like vultures). These clashes had occasional pauses when a jackal would suddenly appear amidst the furious flock of vultures and claim the feast for itself. It was fascinating to observe this because the jackals’ expressions ranged from aggressive and menacingly bared teeth to stunned and frightened, especially when the vultures began flapping their wings.
These scenes brought me back to my thoughts from earlier that morning. Watching the interaction and tolerance between the jackals and vultures, I began to think that there was something more terrifying for the birds than three jackals. If it had been a human, there wouldn’t have been a single trace of wildlife around by now, let alone such chaos and a massive feast. If it had been a shepherd dog – or even more than one – it would have already appeared on the feeding ground. The more likely explanation was that a wolf had passed through and decided it wasn’t safe to reveal itself near the hide.
By now, the sun had risen higher, and our chances of such luck were quickly fading, just like the snow that had accumulated in front of the hide a few days ago and was now slowly melting.
The entire cacophony of feeding animals in front of us continued, and in the meantime, a pair of affectionate cinereous vultures appeared, along with a solitary one. I became so focused on them that I completely missed the moment when the jackals slipped away. Suddenly, theys were gone without a trace, and the vultures seemed to change their behavior, no longer as focused on the struggle for food. They took off once again, and seconds later, to the left of the hide, a magnificent wolf appeared.
This was the answer to everything that had been making me ponder the morning’s events.
Pam and I locked onto the wolf with our lenses, capturing its every move. It moved with grace and ease across the terrain, its long legs and thick winter coat in perfect shape. I could tell she was female.
The time was just before 9 in the morning, and the low winter light created the perfect atmosphere for photography. Pam and I captured every step of the animal in a series of shots. We were both using mirrorless cameras, which quietly and unobtrusively did their job, leaving the wolf completely undisturbed.
For about 10–15 minutes, she roamed the terrain, sometimes approaching within 15 meters of us, filling our frames. Occasionally, she disappeared behind the hide or ventured toward the ravine, only to reappear moments later. At times, we could clearly see the vapor of her warm breath through the viewfinder! She would lift her nose and sniff the air, or sometimes press her muzzle into the ground, searching for remnants of the vultures’ feast. There was still food left since she had appeared even before the jackals and birds had finished eating. She frequently gazed toward the hide, looking straight into our lenses with her hazel eyes, undoubtedly aware of our presence. Yet, despite everything, she trusted us and did not flee. On the contrary, her body language radiated calmness and confidence.
At one point, she moved toward the edge of the rocks in front of us, where a steep descent began. Then, she stopped and looked down.
Before long, another silhouette emerged from the slope – a second wolf.
Larger, warier, with a massive head – this was the male.
They were a pair.
For the first time, they displayed their bond before us, standing close, heads touching.
He was larger, more cautious, with a more massive head… It was him. The two of them turned out to be a pair – demonstrating this for the first time before us, standing side by side, their heads touching. I began to wonder if this closeness was what made the she-wolf feel so at ease. The male, however, remained more withdrawn at first, keeping his distance from us, and often the female would descend toward him on the slope. Sometimes, we could only see their heads.
One of the most beautiful and unforgettable moments was when they "played" (if that is the right word for it). They rose on their hind legs, pressing their front paws against each other, holding the pose for 2–3 seconds.
It was impossible to capture with a camera, but incredible to witness.
These moments made me feel deeply privileged. And that feeling intensified when I thought about how wolves are treated – hated, hunted, considered vermin, shot year-round. The folklore and childhood tales that vilify them as dull-witted and ruthless killers clashed starkly with the beauty unfolding before me.
I returned my attention to what was happening in front of the hide, and the pair of wolves continued moving around. The male was now passing much closer to us, accepting our presence and not even glancing at the camera lenses. At one point, I looked through the glass and saw a fox. I found its boldness both amusing and admirable. It was about 30 meters away from the wolves, also led by its nose in search of food scraps.
The male wolf noticed the fox and suddenly darted after it with a displeased expression. Perhaps he had something to settle with it, considering all the folk tales we were told as children. But besides being brave, the fox also proved to be very fast. I managed to capture only a few shots of them together, mostly showing the wolf from behind and the fox’s raised tail as it quickly disappeared among the rocks towards the ravine. The male returned, stayed a little longer with the female, and then they headed toward the nearby grove.
But besides being brave, the fox also proved to be very fast. I managed to capture only a few shots of them together, mostly showing the wolf from behind and the fox’s raised tail as it quickly disappeared among the rocks towards the ravine. The male returned, stayed a little longer with the female, and then they headed toward the nearby grove.
I checked my watch – they had spent nearly an hour and a half in front of the hide. We had captured tons of incredible shots, gathered unforgettable memories, and nourished our souls!
A few minutes later, a griffon vulture flew over, scanning the area from above to ensure it was safe before landing. Soon, others joined. The cacophony quickly returned. At one point, I saw the brave fox appear again. Its eyes were wide open, reacting sharply to every sudden movement, looking ready to flee at any moment. The presence of vultures reassured it, and like the jackals, it sneaked into the crowd of birds, even boldly placing a paw on the food, marking it as its own prey.
The vultures devoured everything, then lingered for a bit before shaking themselves off and taking off one by one. As the last sun rays illuminated the scene and pink hues began to reappear, a black vulture landed, perching briefly on the remnants of the feast. That marked the end of this incredibly exciting day.
Day Two:
Once again, the car engine went silent, and we remained in the quiet, waiting for the sunrise. A golden eagle appeared rather quickly – having missed the previous day, it was now in a hurry to secure food before all those scavengers arrived with their noise! The eagle passed through, surveyed the area, and grabbed a piece of food. It was still too dark, and the scene wasn’t very photogenic, but we managed to snap a few shots nonetheless.
As the sun began to brighten the landscape, familiar silhouettes appeared. The griffon vultures perched on the rocks. They didn’t rush toward the food but instead sat calmly, observing the area, some tending to their morning grooming. I was hoping to see that beautiful wolf pair again, and the vultures' reserved behavior – hesitating to dive into the food – only strengthened my hopes. Unfortunately, the wolves didn’t show up, but a white-tailed eagle did. It first landed in the distance, where we could only glimpse its head. Over the years, I had photographed young white-tailed eagles in the Eastern Rhodopes, but this was a fully mature bird. It hopped from spot to spot, scanning the area, perching amidst the throng of vultures. We managed to capture a few shots of it mid-hop, just as the light became truly magnificent – an unexpected bonus!
The jackals appeared as well, but not in a group this time – they came individually and weren’t as aggressive as the day before. A pair of cinereous vultures also arrived, and their bond was immediately evident. They sat close together, preening each other and gently "nodding" their heads in an affectionate manner. However, these romantic gestures vanished instantly when another pair of cinereous vultures arrived. There was no tolerance – the chase began immediately.
We took many shots of vultures in flight, and there were interesting moments between vultures and crows. One particular crow was determined to tease a griffon vulture. It landed just inches away from the griffon, cawing persistently at it, and even gathered pebbles and bits of tree bark to toss at the vulture.
Day Three:
Once again, we waited for the sunrise, and with it came the vultures. I decided to gather some data for ornithologists who study these giants, so I started photographing the rings and wing tags, which I would later provide to them.
The main action involved the griffon vultures, who were strutting and jumping aggressively at each other. Sometimes they came so close that we couldn’t fit them entirely into the frame, their wings extending beyond the shot. Despite this, both I and Pam managed to capture some impressive images of the fighting vultures. The day ended with a flock of mistle thrushes scouring the area for food.
This was our winter adventure in the Eastern Rhodopes – three incredible days filled with emotions and memories! I thought about the wolf pair again. I wished to see them once more, but at the same time, I was glad they didn’t return. I hoped they were somewhere far away, hidden, safe from the hunters’ thermal guns and traps that give them no peace even at night. I hoped they would have a chance for the most natural thing – to reproduce, to raise their pups, to pass on their genes and keep their lineage alive! Just as my wife and I are raising our own children.
Wolves are top predators and natural regulators, playing a role in ecological processes most of us don’t even think of. Perhaps that’s why, for many, they are simply considered "vermin"…
