Winter in Hungary—Bence Máté's Cabins

At the end of January, An Meert and I boarded a plane in Eindhoven bound for Budapest. Our final destination: the farm of award-winning Hungarian wildlife photographer Bence Máté near the village of Pusztaszer, located in Hungary’s Southern Great Plain. The farm is located in the Hungarian countryside, 150 kilometers south of Budapest and near the borders of Romania and Serbia. There are several photography hides around the farm, from which various types of wildlife can be photographed. I’ve long been drawn to the photos taken from these hides. So it’s finally time to go take a look for myself.

The organization for the entire week is excellent. In fact, all you have to do is book a flight to Budapest and pack your gear. You’ll receive detailed information in advance about what to bring, and there was even a taxi waiting for us at the Budapest airport. Day-to-day operations at the cabins are handled by the guides Fanni, Csaba, Kokó, and Ádám. Everything else is handled by Andrea (the manager), who is also an excellent cook and prepares the meals. Bence is available every day to answer questions, offer tips, and provide explanations.

THE CABINS

Bence is a pioneer in his field. He is approached from all over the world to build hides, and he was the first to collaborate with a Hungarian glass company to develop a type of glass that is transparent on one side and of very high quality, allowing photographers to take pictures without the wildlife seeing them and without compromising image quality. Bence sometimes refers to himself as “the invisible wildlife photographer.” Because the animals cannot see you, you can photograph them from very close range. This concept is now being used in many hides worldwide.

A common complaint among wildlife photographers is that they haven’t spent thousands of euros on the most expensive and best lenses just to end up shooting through glass and ending up with a photo—in terms of image quality and sharpness—that they could just as easily have taken with a cheap lens. However, that is absolutely not the case in Bence’s hides.

During our winter visit, a total of four huts were in use for six photographers. Assignments are made based on a rotation schedule, and in our case—since there were six of us (seven is typical in winter and the maximum)—we were paired up in twos. The winter huts are all equipped with twin shooters with ball heads (camera mounting via the lens mount) from the Hungarian brand FlexShooter, so you can shoot with two cameras at the same time and leave your own tripod at home. You won’t get cold in the huts either, as they’re all equipped with underfloor heating, as well as ventilation to keep the glass free of condensation.

1. THEATER HIDE

Let me start with the cabin that’s really the highlight of a winter visit to Bence: the theater cabin. This cabin is quite a distance from the farm. It takes a thirty-minute drive followed by a ten-minute walk to get there. Nestled in a nature reserve stands a small wooden cabin with a living room and three sleeping areas, along with a wooden outhouse (earth-covered toilet) outside. In the living room, there’s a hatch with a small ladder leading down, through which you enter a ten-meter-long, low underground passage that leads to the actual photography hide. During the day, you can’t go outside, because this would scare away the wildlife—especially the bald eagle.

I found this hide to be quite an adventure, because you stay in it for several nights. There’s glass on both sides of the sunken photography hide, with a view of the water at eye level on each side. The “quiet” side is the most likely spot for a visit from a bald eagle. On the busiest side—where cormorants and herons reign supreme—there are six fish traps that you can operate individually from inside the hide, depending on where the best light is at any given moment. The hide features a backlighting system, which produces unique images, especially at dusk and at night. Every morning around 5:00 a.m., one of the guides comes to fill the cages with fish, marking the start of the photography day.

After the guide has left, the first herons of the day appear. In the early morning twilight, they stand quietly hunting, yielding beautiful images during the blue hour. This tranquility is brutally disrupted when the cormorants decide it’s time for breakfast. They arrive in large numbers from all directions, clearly dominating the herons, who are relegated to second place at that moment. It’s the start of complete chaos. Shooting at 20 fps in burst mode, you can easily rack up 100 gigabytes here, and for the photographer, it’s nonstop work—because no matter where you look, something is happening.*

So it’s nice that calm returns once the worst of the hunger has been satisfied. The wings are dried, and the plumage is preened. Time for me to catch my breath after two hours of nonstop photography and take some pictures at my own pace.

Then begins the hopeful wait for the bald eagle, which—I’ll just come right out and say it—didn’t show up for us. In the end, nature does as it pleases, even when favorable conditions are created to maximize the chances of seeing it. We were, however, treated to beautiful, warm (evening) light around 3:00 p.m.

I was immediately captivated by the great egret. Its creamy-white plumage, its yellow-orange beak with the green ring around its eye—I think it’s a beautiful combination of colors. It was almost always chased away by the blue herons and had to settle for a quiet spot off to the side, waiting for the occasional chance to catch a fish during quiet moments.

Several times a day, I run back to the cottage through the underground passage, hunched over. A quick bowl of soup, a quick backup, a quick battery in the charger, and a quick hot meal. Then, once the sun has set, the cormorants have gone to sleep, and darkness has fallen, the absolute best moment of the day begins for me: the herons’ vast creative playground, backlit by the setting sun. Sometimes I have to wait hours for the herons to arrive, and another hour passes before a heron—standing perfectly still at the edge, waiting—steps into the light, but what follows is so much more than worth the wait.

Once I’ve got all the camera settings and highlights under control and have taken my first sharp photos, I start experimenting more and more with longer shutter speeds. First 1/40th of a second, then 1/30, 1/20, and 1/10. The possibilities are endless.

At 1:00 a.m., I call it a night and crawl into bed, knowing that after just a few hours of sleep—which I can’t seem to get because of all the excitement—another fresh shipment of fish will be delivered and the whole spectacle will start all over again……

Before the second night began, I had looked back at my photos of the herons backlit. By then, I had so many photos I liked that, in addition to the “normal” shots, I wanted to capture a different image: the heron’s stealthy stride using a slow shutter speed. That night, however, turned out to be foggy, as the freezing cold had caused mist to form above the water’s surface. When I saw that, I was a little disappointed, because I felt it would significantly reduce my chances of getting good shots. Unlike before, I didn’t get a nice black background, but a lighter, hazy one due to the fog. In the end, it yielded photos I’m very happy with, partly because they were so different from those taken on the first night. After yet another short night’s sleep, I captured another “golden” series in the early morning. It’s for these photos alone that I’d love to return to Hungary again.

2. KINGFISHER HIDE

Time for another hide—this time one built specifically for photographing the colorful kingfisher. This hide is nestled among the reeds along the small stream that runs past the farm. It’s a beautiful setting with an “infinity pool” effect, allowing you to capture the kingfisher’s dives in incredible detail. In addition, there’s front lighting, so the ISO setting can remain low while using the necessary (very) fast shutter speed.

To my great relief, the kingfisher stuck to a fairly strict schedule while it was with us. There were about fifty minutes between each visit, often with at least five dives per visit, which meant that about twenty-five dives could be photographed in a single morning.

The light varied greatly depending on the time of day. It’s surprising how much the photos could differ from hour to hour. Because the camera’s autofocus often can’t keep up with the lightning-fast kingfisher, you can also focus on a fixed point in advance. Unfortunately, this only works if the kingfisher doesn’t stray from “the route,” which is more often than not the case. As a result, many images were ultimately discarded because I wanted the eye to be completely in focus. That wasn’t a problem, though, because after three mornings of shooting in this hide, I was left with more than enough photos that I’m happy with.

3. DRINKING STATION

Cabin number three was a very nice cabin. The watering station, which is in use during the winter, is located in the woods, about a ten-minute walk from the farm. The cabin attracts all kinds of forest birds, such as goldfinches, redpolls, hawfinches, pigeons, jays, and woodpeckers, but buzzards and herons also come to visit here.

On the first evening, we started at 9:00 p.m. in the cabin, after our stay in the theater cabin. Of course, all the birds had already left by then, but we were pinning our hopes on the roe deer that also visit the watering hole. We turned on the backlight, and the wait began. For a moment, we were thrown off by a cat, but at exactly midnight, a scene that seemed straight out of a fairy tale unfolded before our eyes. Suddenly, the roe deer emerged from the fog: I couldn’t believe my eyes.

We were able to start our second visit to the watering hole early. Mid-afternoon, we settled into this peaceful cabin. It turned out to be a pleasant afternoon of photography and relaxation, without any pressure or expectations. I just let things unfold as they would, and that’s nice for a change (there’s also a photo of a siesel—a ground squirrel—that we saw at the farm. They’re usually hibernating in February, but this one had set its alarm too early).

Around sunset, no fewer than six roe deer appeared. This, too, was a moment to remember. The palette of colors, the soft winter light, the peaceful scene: nature is so beautiful.

And as twilight fell, the deer once again stole the show in the backlight—this time at the end of the blue hour, with less fog and thus stunning deep-blue colors. Because of the freezing cold, beautiful clouds of breath were also visible against the backlight here. It was the icing on the cake, which was already richly decorated.

4. CINEMA HIDE

Last but not least: the cinema hut. The cinema hut is located between the water and the reeds, just a few minutes’ walk from the farm. On the day we were there, we spotted a water rail and some moorhens, and the water rail was by far my favorite.

However, the main reason the cabin is so popular is the (possible!) nighttime visit from Eurasian otters. To facilitate this, the cabin is equipped with lighting systems that can be controlled from the inside: two individually controlled lamps for backlighting and four lamps for front lighting (yellow and white, left and right), allowing for a variety of lighting configurations.

And so, in the middle of the week, we set off for the cabin at 4:00 p.m.—well before dusk—with some sandwiches and water, determined not to leave until we’d captured some otters on camera, but of course hoping for an early visit that evening so we could get some much-needed sleep.

It was the start of what, as it turned out, would be an eleven-hour wait. It became our toughest night on the farm. Not knowing if the otters would ever show up, the clock kept ticking. That uncertainty made it especially hard, as did the fact that I’d barely slept the nights before either. The temptation to give up at some point is strong. But we had no intention of doing that: we didn’t want to be left with the nagging feeling afterward that the otters might have stopped by after we’d left. All that waiting would then have been in vain. In short: we would stay put until dawn; that way, at least, we wouldn’t have anything to blame ourselves for afterward. That’s easier said than done, though. I found myself drifting off regularly, and later we decided to take turns closing our eyes for a moment.

And then, finally, at 3:15 a.m., “the moment of redemption” arrived: a male otter suddenly poked its head above the water right in front of the window. It was my turn to keep watch, and I was completely startled. Unfortunately, the visit lasted only a few minutes, but luckily he came back briefly.

This interlude gave us the chance to turn on the front lights as well, instead of just the backlights, which is how we’d started—and which looked beautiful with the water steaming in the cold, but turned out to be difficult to photograph. Otters do require a fairly fast shutter speed, and with the aperture already wide open, the ISO value quickly shoots up—not an appealing prospect—and it means constantly adjusting settings in search of a good balance. So we decided to make things a little easier on ourselves. With the front lights on, the ISO value stayed at an acceptable level and focusing became easier.

About 45 minutes later, around 4:00 a.m. again, a female appeared with her now-grown cub, which stayed for about ten minutes. After waiting another half hour without seeing any activity, we decided we’d had enough. We’d captured the otter on the memory card, and our battery was completely drained. That same day, we had another full schedule lined up that was set to start just a few hours later.

We took photos with only backlighting and photos with both backlighting and front lighting. We didn’t dare experiment much with the lights, afraid we’d scare away the otters (which we’d waited so long to see!). In hindsight, I would have preferred a slightly faster shutter speed. I also would have liked to shoot with only the front light on, so the background would have come out black, but to be honest, I didn’t think of that because I was so tired. Although we had plenty of opportunities at all the huts, and a second visit always yielded better photos thanks to the learning curve, we weren’t up for sacrificing a second night for the otters. Something to save for a future visit—if I can bring myself to do it.

WHAT GEAR DID I BRING?

I don’t own any fast telephoto lenses for wildlife photography, but don’t worry. If you don’t own something, you can rent it. I rented an extra Nikon Z8 body (in addition to my own Nikon Z8), the Nikkor Z 70-200mm f/2.8, and the Nikkor Z 400mm f/4.5 from Foto Robyns in St. Truiden (Belgium). Although I also brought my 100-400mm and 24-120mm lenses, I shot almost exclusively with the rented lenses, because oh, I was so in love with the 400mm prime, and the f/2.8 aperture on the 70-200 often proved truly indispensable. If Nikon ever releases a 300mm Z-mount prime lens, I’d definitely pack it in my luggage—provided it’s available for rent—because it seems to me to be the ideal focal length, at least for winter.

IN CONCLUSION

Photographing at Bence in Hungary was a fantastic experience. When building the cabins here, they really thought of every little detail. Everything just fits together perfectly, and it will be hard to match this level of quality when it comes to cabins.

All in all, after eight days, this exciting week came to an end. An and I had made the most of it. I was exhausted and had taken more than enough photos, and I could think of only one thing: my bed. But even during the week, we knew: we want to go back. Winter calls for a repeat visit, and you can also take photos there in the spring—with completely different species and completely different images—though I’ve heard that in the spring, you get even less sleep……

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people have each played a small part in making this trip possible.

First and foremost, my heartfelt thanks go to Bence Máté and his team. The warm welcome, the excellent care, and the beautiful cabins made everything so worthwhile. Thanks also to Jody Zweserijn, whose blogs and enthusiasm inspired me to take this trip. Thank you also for the phone calls answering all my questions. My thanks also go to George Scharf and Marc Gengler, who made room for me and An during “their” weeks and who selflessly went out of their way to help us. I mustn’t forget Frank from Foto Robyns, without whose camera and lenses the entire mission wouldn’t have been possible, and who provided excellent service.

I’d like to thank An, to whom I’m addressing this personally. I knew from the very beginning that you would be the ideal travel companion. Your kind nature and humble personality made us a perfect match, and even under the strain of extreme fatigue, we kept pushing forward and remained a close-knit team. Thank you also for the wonderful conversations we had during the often long waits. I wouldn’t have wanted to embark on this special adventure with anyone other than you.

Finally, a few words to my dear husband and our three lovely children. I always feel supported by you all. You give me the freedom to do what makes me so happy. It means more to me than you probably realize, and even though I love to travel, I couldn’t do it without you as my safe haven—and coming home is the best feeling there is. 💞.

While writing this blog, the inevitable became a reality. I had to make the decision to let our beloved cat—an indispensable part of our family—go. It was the last thing I could and had to do for him, but it was so hard.

Dear Max, my faithful friend, I miss you so much. My eyes search for you; I think I see you. You’re sitting by the window, keeping me company while I cook. Little things that used to be so natural and are now gone. It’s quiet in the house; we loved you so much. I’ll carry the memories of you in my heart, forever. 🐾

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