I got up at three. Thermos, backpack, tripod — and a kilometre of wading through marshland before the sky began to grey. At this hour the Biebrza still belongs to the birds, and a human is only a guest here, one who has to keep quiet.

After an hour of waiting I heard the bittern's distinctive “booming” — one of the hardest birds to photograph in Poland. Hidden in the reeds, almost invisible, it gave itself away only by its voice.

The mist clung to the water long after sunrise. It's what creates the mood here — it scatters the light, mutes the colours and makes every bird look as if cut out of a fairy tale.

I came back with a dozen or so frames, a few of which made it to the shop. But the most important thing stayed in my head: that moment when the world wakes with a voice you won't hear anywhere else.