Autumn reflected upon the water
HIH Princess Takamado highlights the changing hues of the seasons with her bird photography.
“Through the Lens” Fujingahou Magazine, December 2025
Photos and text by HIH Princess Takamado
Photo edited by Koichi Fujiwara (NATURE’S PLANET)
Edited by Yuki Masuda (Fujingahou)
English version prepared by BirdLife International.
(This English translation is provided for reference only and does not constitute an official version)
Japanese culture and customs are intertwined with the four seasons. Many Japanese people choose to live attuned to these natural cycles, allowing the gentle transitions in nature to shape their daily lives. Living with our country’s rich nature, it is perhaps only natural that our sensibilities become finely tuned to the subtle shift from one season to the next. I also strive to convey a sense of the season’s presence in my bird photography. As autumn deepens, countless species of duck visit the island of Japan from the north to spend the winter. For this series, I am honoured to present photographs of these birds under the theme: “Autumn reflected upon the water.”
In Japanese, the kanji for “koyo”, meaning the colours of autumn leaves, is the same as the kanji for “momiji”, referring to maple trees, which shows just how strongly the maple symbolizes autumn in Japan.
This eye-catching species breeds in Russia’s Primorsky Krai, north-eastern China, the Korean Peninsula, Taiwan and Japan. During winter, continental populations migrate to southern China. In Japan, it inhabits mountain lakes and streams from Hokkaido (summer birds) to Okinawa.
The first photograph depicts a Mandarin Duck spreading its wings beneath brilliantly red maple leaves. Because a branch of the maple tree extended low over the water’s surface, and I was photographing from a slightly elevated position, I was able to capture both the Mandarin Duck and the maple leaves within the same frame.
These birds breed in northern Eurasia and migrate to southern Europe, northern Africa, South East Asia, Japan and other regions in winter. Large numbers arrive in Japan from Hokkaido to Okinawa, where they are commonly seen even in urban park ponds.
The photograph above shows a Eurasian Wigeon I saw swimming among the reeds and coming up onto land. With the afternoon sun lying low in mid-December, the light streamed in from the side, illuminating the scene. The fox-like colour of the dried reeds was drawn out and reflected upon the water’s surface, creating a distinctive atmosphere.
Another species that breeds in northern Eurasia, Tufted Duck winters in southern Europe, north Africa, northern India and southern China. They arrive in large numbers throughout Japan, mainly as winter birds but small numbers breed in Hokkaido.
The next photograph shows a Tufted Duck early in the morning. I set the exposure slightly lower to achieve a subtle underexposed effect. This photo was taken just before the sunlight became fully bright, with the rays illuminating the surface of the water from the side. It reflected the red, green and yellow leaves of the trees growing along the pond’s edge. The concentric ripples were formed by the gentle movements of the Tufted Duck. As the bird moved even slightly, the colours around it changed, blessing me with numerous attractive photo opportunities.
Distributed across the frigid to temperate zones of Eurasia and North America, Mallard migrates south in winter, but is resident in Europe. In Japan, small numbers breed in the mountains of Honshu Island and in Hokkaido, but in winter, large numbers migrate from the north and can be seen throughout the country.
The final photograph is of a male Mallard. The direction it is heading is bright red, but behind is deep green. If I had photographed it while it was swimming in the green area, it might have looked like an early summer photograph.
The beautiful green colour of the Mallard’s head is a structural colour. When light falls upon the feathers, they begin to shimmer—this phenomenon is the same type of colouration seen in morpho butterflies, abalone shells and tropical fish. It is a physical phenomenon produced by the reflection, refraction and scattering of light on microscopic structures atop the surface of the feather material.
On sunny days, the head of a Mallard can appear brilliantly iridescent or almost black depending on the angle of the light. Conversely, on overcast days its colours tend to appear more subdued. Changeable appearances are not just the case with structural coloration; in bird photography, it is essential to remain continually attentive to the presence, intensity and direction of light.
Autumn foliage reflected upon the water creates a truly beautiful backdrop for ducks. Because the water’s surface reflects the light, it acts as a natural mirror, providing soft illumination. In a sense, one could say that all the elements for taking good photographs are present. The only issue that may arise is the fallen leaves and natural debris floating on the surface. If possible, the ideal conditions are when strong winds have cleared the water’s surface, causing the leaves to gather at one side.
Since ancient times, Japanese people have cherished the beauty of nature as it changes through the four seasons.
Momijigari – the tradition of going out to the mountains and fields in autumn to appreciate the brilliantly coloured leaves – is one such custom that remains deeply rooted in our culture. It is said to have begun among the aristocracy from the Nara through Heian periods. During the Edo period, it spread among commoners as well. Even today, there are surely many people who visit famous spots to appreciate the spectacular autumn scenery woven by red maple leaves, yellow ginkgo leaves and the various shades of orange inbetween.
Surely, trees change colours later than before in recent years. When I was a child, the change was in early November, but now it is around the first to second week of December. With global warming, it seems that bipolarisation between summer and winter is progressing. As I photograph, I find myself quietly sensing that the nature of Japan’s four seasons is changing. But I digress. I hope to continue photographing birds that embody the beauty of Japan’s four seasons, preserving these moments through my work. I hope you have enjoyed this glimpse of autumn reflected upon the water. If you have the chance, I encourage you to visit a nearby park and take a moment to savour the quiet beauty of Japanese autumn.