The summer before I moved to Chicago, I used to wake up early every morning, grab my camera, and head down to the river. I’d precariously wade out into the calf-deep water, the same water that as high school students we believed contained flesh-eating viruses, and try to photograph whatever fly by, before I inevitably scared it away. Most of the time, it was mallards, great blue herons, and Canada goose. If I was lucky, I’d stumble across a wood duck or a flock of ducklings whizzing around in the eddy.

And then I moved. The trees that I was accustomed to seeing everywhere warped into concrete and marble. The ducklings seemingly all became fat pigeons, and the “flesh-eating-virus-river” of legend became a river that very likely contains all kinds of deadly diseases. Sweet Home Chicago. My morning pals, the geese and the ducks, shifted into grumpy bus riders and people who ordered food with strange sayings like, “Give me something that will melt my face off.”

At first I was unsure if there was anything around that interested me enough to photograph. Am I a street photographer, now that I live in a big city? That couldn’t possibly be, because people are boring, mulling over the streets like zombies glued to their phones. Could I photograph people like I would wildlife? The answer: most definitely no. In case you’re curious, try putting on all camo, lying on a busy city street, and photographing businessmen rushing to work. I dare you.

After a few weeks of photographic existential panic, I quickly began to realize that wildlife still exists in the city. My morning pals, the ducks and the geese, still floated around, only now with yachts in the background. Cardinals still sang their distinct two-tone song, just next to a passed out homeless man. Framing became much more important.

Oddly enough, wildlife that I wouldn’t find along the banks of the Scioto River in Ohio could be found in Chicago, namely deer and the supposed presence of coyotes along Lake Shore Drive. Likewise, if I ever wanted to establish a niche as a rat photographer, I’m exactly in the right place. After growing accustomed to the city wildlife scene, the only major difference I’ve realized is that it’s kind of like cheating; wading in the river no more, there’s beautifully designed rusty iron bridge for me to stand on instead.