People ask me this a lot. Sometimes at talks, sometimes after screenings, sometimes in emails from students who've watched a blue-chip series and want to know how to get there. I never tire of the question — the fact that someone is asking it seriously is usually a good sign in itself.

I should say upfront: I'm a cinematographer. I work with long lenses, hi-speed cameras and sometimes in conditions that would make most sane people turn round and go home. So what I'm describing here is specifically the camera path — not directing, producing or researching, though those are all honourable routes too.

Start with the animal, not the camera

This is the part that gets glossed over. The best wildlife camera operators I know are natural historians first. They understand behaviour — not from books alone, but from time spent watching. You cannot anticipate the moment if you don't know the animal. Knowing your subject is what puts you in the right place with the right focal length before anything happens.

When I moved to Tanzania at nineteen I wasn't thinking about cameras — I was obsessed with watching animals. The camera came later. That order mattered.

Get footage — any footage

There is no excuse now for not filming. The camera in your pocket is good enough to learn on. You don't need to go to the Serengeti; there is wildlife on your doorstep if you know how to look. Film it. Edit it. Watch it back honestly. Do it again.

What commissioners and DoPs hiring assistants want to see is whether you can make a picture and tell a story. They're not expecting National Geographic on a first showreel — they're looking for an eye, patience, and the ability to hold a frame. Keep your reel under three minutes. Natural sound over music, most of the time.

The practical things nobody mentions

A wildlife camera operator spends a great deal of time not filming. Hours in a hide. Days waiting for weather. Weeks on a sequence that may end up as forty seconds on screen — if it makes the cut at all. Patience isn't a virtue here; it's the job.

You'll also be expected to be practical in ways film school doesn't teach: maintaining kit in dust, heat and rain; building hides from whatever's around; problem-solving without a phone signal. Someone who can wire a plug, rig a remote camera in a tree and get a Land Rover moving again has a better chance than someone who has read every filmmaking book but has never fixed anything with their hands.

Being a freelancer — which almost all of us are — means the periods between jobs are yours to manage: financially, emotionally, and in terms of keeping your skills current. Technology changes constantly. An understanding of the camera systems, post-production pipelines and data management of today is as important as any field craft.

Routes in

I came up slowly — making tea, carrying cases, doing whatever was asked without complaint. There are now more structured routes: runner or logger positions at production companies, assistant camera roles, traineeships and mentoring schemes. Some are excellent; some are less so. Keep an eye on what the major UK natural history producers — BBC Studios, Silverback, Plimsoll, Tigress — are offering.

Specialist study can help enormously. The NFTS MFA in Directing and Producing Science and Natural History and UWE's MA Wildlife Filmmaking are two I hear well of — I didn't have those options when I started, and I'd have jumped at them.

The International Association of Wildlife Filmmakers is worth joining early — it puts you in the same room as the people making the films. The Wildlife Camerawomen Community is particularly valuable if you're a woman entering the industry.

On gender

I was one of very few women working as a wildlife camera operator when I started. That has changed — slowly, but genuinely. I don't think it matters in the slightest whether you are a man or a woman. What matters is whether you can do the job: whether you can anticipate the animal, hold the lens, and sit with the discomfort long enough for something extraordinary to happen in front of you.

If you're a woman and you want to do this, do it. Don't wait for permission.

Watching widely

Watch wildlife films — a lot of them. Know whose work you admire and why. Understand what different production companies are making and for whom. When you watch a sequence, ask yourself what lens was used, where the camera was positioned, what the operator was waiting for. That kind of active watching teaches you more than almost anything else.

For broader career advice — routes in, courses, what to expect on the job — I've written a longer piece on wildlife filmmaking as a career which covers more of the ground.

Sophie Darlington ASC.