Homo-Moronicus

by Kenneth R. McVay

This is a sub-species of the homosapien race. He (she or it) can be observed interacting with the local environment at random intervals. They can be geographically located anywhere in the world, but usually are found stumbling in a prime photographic spot. I’m sure you know the type I’m talking about. They’re the ones looking for seashells two feet from where you are attempting to photograph an adult tern feeding it’s young. Of course, by the time they straggle by, the terns have run their chicks into the salt grass where they will be safe. Another candidate for the title homo-moronicus is the person who sees you taking a photograph and walks up to ask you what you are doing. Then they want to squat next to you and comment on your equipment. Statements about how big the lens is and “wow, I didn’t know they made them that big” are only outshone by “wow, I bet you can really take photographs with that lens.” These people (and I use that term loosely) have also been known to wave their arms wildly in the air and jump up and down to get your attention, before pointing to some animal that is behind a bush or under a log (but obviously out of your line of sight). Then, much to their surprise, all of the wildlife in the immediate vicinity just disappears. They claim not to know what scared everything away or maybe they just decide it was time to leave. And we mustn’t forget the homo-moronicus who walks up to you from in front of the camera and wants to know if they’re disturbing you. They are the ones who have taken a meandering path back and forth across your field of vision before taking the direct approach. Lets not leave out the fisherman who moves closer and closer to your spot. He casts his line, dripping over you and your equipment the whole way. Once he’s all set up, he looks over at you and smiles, commenting on the weather and his fishing prospects. It’s obvious that he doesn’t realize the sparkling drops of water you are now displaying are definitely not beads of sweat. Unfortunately, if you pack up and move, you will find he is slowly easing down the shore towards you. Kind of makes you feel hunted, doesn’t it? Or how about the hobbyist who is out to take a few snapshots and wants your advice on his new little point-n-click camera. He is the one who marches up to you boldly and comments on how much you have in common before asking your professional opinion. Right behind him is the person who wants to know what is going on and what newspaper/magnizine you work for. While they’re searching the area for possible blood and gore, they are quickly making sure their hair is slicked back and their shirt is buttoned correctly. The lack of a camera crew, crime tape, and multiple police vehicles does not deter this one at all. He just assumes they are there somewhere and he is going to get his picture in the local news. Children, at least, are more honest in their intent. They come right and ask you to take their picture. They don’t realize they are disturbing you or the wildlife. They certainly don’t realize that even if you did take their photograph, they would never see it.

Once you’ve left the wildlife alone and moved into the bright lights of a sports arena, or someplace similar, you are inundated with another type of homo-moronicus. They carry all manner of stuff and prefer to stand directly in front of your camera (with their back to you naturally). Once the best action has stopped they casually move on, trailing debris (spouses, children, food, etc.) like bread crumbs. They are only topped by the mothers with multiple shoulder straps that reach out to grab your lens and tripod as they, too, squeeze by in front of you (you could probably have your camera braced against a rail, the lens hanging out into space, and they would try to go in front of you). Children frequently bring up the rear of this type of procession, tagging along together, tethered by hands and leashes. Their primary purpose is to capture your attention as they wrap you up like a present.

Weddings are always good places to spot this species. At weddings, they are the ones stepping in front of you to get a quick picture of the bride walking down the aisle. As their flash pops and blinds the bride, you may find yourself restraining her father and saving her bouquet (never a dull moment at a wedding). After the wedding and your announcement that everyone can move over to the reception while you are finishing up their photographs, they will mill around the edges of the pulpit and hang over the front pew making faces at the wedding party. Their children are chasing each other back and forth behind the wedding group, knocking over candle stands and drastically changing the angle of flower arrangements. Again, you may find yourself restraining someone (possibly yourself) and saving the bride from grief (her new husband is generally too busy trying to get someone, anyone, to grab the children and heard everyone else out the door). Moving right along to the reception, you are now faced with the happy audience who have been imbibing while the wait for the wedding party to arrive. They wave at you, whistle at you, and “yoohoo” you to get your attention (you know what they want, right?). As the hour advances, you find yourself hiding in corners and pretending to be suddenly deaf and mute, not understanding those little hand gestures of theirs (like they were holding a point-n-click camera, taking their picture). When it’s time to throw that much abused bouquet and the garter, you pick a strategic spot to capture the action. Unfortunately, all to often the bride and groom have not been practicing their over-the-shoulder toss prior to the wedding reception. As the garter sails your way, you get your first closeup of a stampede. Thinking to be safe from the bouquet, you change sides of the room and brace yourself only to be run over by an ever-widening defensive lineup of single females ready to tackle the flowers. They nimbly and blithely skip over the legs of your tripod on their way to glory.

Sad to say, in this day and age, no matter where you go, you will be faced with one or more of this sub-species at least once during your photographic stay. If you’re only accosted or run over once in a trip, count yourself VERY lucky because photographers are definitely the minority and cannot turn back the tide of evolution single-handedly (not even with your tripod’s center column in hand). Homo-moronicus is flourishing and infiltrating every possible environment and habitat known to the photographer. Good luck.