It was some time after I took this evocative image until I was able to check whether or not I had nailed it. It was my very last frame before I got off the ground and ran behind the jeep, and there was no time to think, never mind look at the LCD screen. The mother was a colossus of an elephant, and I cut it fine in terms of the narrowing distance between us. I guess I was just intoxicated by the sensational imagery I was seeing through the lens. To spend another two seconds on the ground would have been taking an unnecessary risk. I knew I had something very major, and it was a relief to find out from the safety of the jeep that my focus was spot-on.

Before this privileged moment in Amboseli, I had never come close to taking a decent portrait of a baby elephant. Babies are skittish, clingy, and always well protected. Most images tend to be messy with a cocktail of legs—some large, some small—and I have also struggled to convey the height differential with a giant adult. Elephants have great emotional intelligence, no more so than in protecting their young; the babies are rarely physically detached from their mothers or their herd. It is rare to even see them fully exposed to daylight unless they are running between adults.

I want my work to be full of emotion—without it, there needs be a great number of compensating factors for a photograph to be transcendent.
I think The Walk of Life connects emotionally with people on a wide number of levels. Its strength comes from the deep symbolism of the narrative—there is no more important job in the world than being a mother.