Capturing Madagascar's Rainforest: Wildlife Photography in Andasibe

After fifteen years documenting ancient structures in arid landscapes, Madagascar's rainforest environment required a complete rethinking of my equipment strategy. Andasibe receives over 1,700mm of rainfall annually – most concentrated during the November-April wet season. Even in the 'dry' months when I visited, afternoon showers transformed trails into slick obstacle courses within minutes.

My primary camera setup consisted of my trusty Canon EOS R5 with weather sealing that proved genuinely rainforest-worthy. I paired it primarily with a 100-400mm zoom lens for wildlife work, though I occasionally switched to my 24-70mm for landscape context shots. The R5's animal eye-tracking autofocus proved invaluable when tracking lemurs through dense foliage.

Humidity is your equipment's greatest enemy here. I kept my gear in a waterproof backpack with silica gel packets, bringing only what I needed for each excursion. Every evening became a ritual of cleaning lenses and checking seals. My lens cleaning kit earned its weight in gold, as did bringing twice as many microfiber cloths as I thought necessary.

Power management required planning – Andasibe's electricity supply can be inconsistent, especially during storms. I traveled with four fully-charged camera batteries and a portable power bank for emergency charging. Memory card capacity is another consideration: RAW files from a full day's shooting added up quickly, particularly when using burst mode to capture lemur leaps or chameleon tongue strikes.

The indri – Madagascar's largest lemur – was my photographic white whale. These critically endangered primates live exclusively in eastern Madagascar's fragmented forests, with Andasibe hosting one of the most accessible populations. Yet 'accessible' is relative when discussing creatures that spend most of their lives 15-30 meters above ground in dense canopy.

The secret to successful lemur photography begins with timing. I arranged for a 5:30 AM start with my guide, Naina, who possessed an almost supernatural ability to interpret forest sounds. The indri's territorial calls typically begin around sunrise, creating a 30-minute window to locate family groups before they settle into mid-morning feeding (when they're often obscured by foliage).

Most visitors to Andasibe see lemurs, but capturing compelling images requires different strategies than simply spotting them. I learned to identify distinctive feeding trees where family groups returned regularly. Rather than chasing multiple sightings, I'd stake out promising locations, setting up my carbon fiber tripod with a fluid head for smooth panning when following movement.

Lemurs move in bursts – long periods of stillness punctuated by explosive leaps and social interactions. During those quiet moments, I'd pre-compose shots, identify clear lines of sight, and adjust my exposure for dappled light. When action erupted, I relied on burst mode (the R5's buffer depth was crucial here) and quick focus adjustments.

Beyond the iconic indri, Andasibe hosts eleven lemur species, including the ghostly white diademed sifaka and the diminutive mouse lemur (visible only on night walks). Each required different approaches – wide apertures and higher ISOs for dawn/dusk encounters, faster shutter speeds for active species, and macro capabilities for the smallest varieties.

While lemurs draw most visitors to Andasibe, the true biodiversity lies in the smaller species. Madagascar hosts over 300 chameleon species – more than half the world's total – with Andasibe's Parson's chameleon among the largest at nearly 70cm long. At the other extreme, Brookesia chameleons could fit comfortably on your thumbnail.

Photographing these cryptic reptiles demands specialized techniques. After several frustrating attempts with standard lenses, I switched to a dedicated macro lens that transformed my capabilities. For the smallest subjects, I added extension tubes to increase magnification beyond the standard 1:1 ratio.

Lighting presents the greatest challenge for rainforest macro work. Andasibe's canopy creates perpetual twilight on the forest floor, while brief sun shafts create extreme contrast. I experimented with different solutions, ultimately settling on a combination of natural light supplemented by a diffused LED panel for fill light on darker subjects.

The forest floor teems with frogs that emerge after rainfall – the jewel-like mantella frogs were particular favorites, their toxic skin producing vibrant yellows, oranges and blues that pop against the leaf litter. For these subjects, I'd often use a small reflector to bounce available light rather than artificial illumination that might alter their natural behavior.

Don't overlook the invertebrates – Andasibe's giraffe-necked weevils, with their improbable anatomy, and iridescent butterflies provide endless macro opportunities. The technique that yielded my best images was simply slowing down. I'd select a promising microhabitat – a flowering plant, a rotting log, or a section of trail after rain – and observe it patiently for 30-45 minutes. The diversity that revealed itself through this deliberate approach far exceeded what I found while actively searching.

Andasibe-Mantadia National Park consists of two distinct sections: the smaller Analamazaotra Special Reserve (often called simply 'Andasibe') and the larger, more remote Mantadia National Park about 20km north. Each offers dramatically different photographic opportunities that complement each other perfectly.

Analamazaotra's well-maintained trails form relatively gentle loops through secondary forest, making it ideal for testing equipment and acclimating to rainforest conditions. The indri families here are somewhat habituated to visitors, occasionally allowing closer approaches (though never close enough to disturb them). I found the Circuit Indri 1 trail offered reliable sightings, while the longer Circuit Indri 2 accessed less-visited territories where wildlife appeared more relaxed.

Mantadia, by contrast, features primary forest with minimal infrastructure – exactly where my experience with remote monasteries proved unexpectedly valuable. The trails here demand proper hiking boots with aggressive tread, as clay soil becomes treacherously slippery even days after rainfall. My waterproof hiking boots with Gore-Tex lining kept my feet surprisingly dry despite creek crossings and mud bogs.

The photographic rewards in Mantadia justify the effort. Here I encountered the critically endangered black-and-white ruffed lemur and diademed sifaka in pristine habitat, often with no other visitors present. The Rianasoa and Tsakoka trails offered particularly productive viewpoints where forest clearings created natural light pockets.

I cannot overstate the importance of hiring knowledgeable local guides in both reserves. Beyond their tracking skills, they understand seasonal patterns – which fruiting trees attract which species, where standing water creates amphibian breeding grounds, and how weather affects wildlife behavior. My guide Naina's expertise transformed what could have been random wandering into precisely targeted photographic opportunities.

My most unexpected photographic discoveries happened after sunset, when Andasibe transforms into an entirely different ecosystem. Nearly 90% of Madagascar's wildlife is nocturnal – a fact I hadn't fully appreciated until my first guided night walk revealed creatures that seemed transplanted from another planet.

Technical preparation is crucial for nocturnal wildlife photography. I used a full-frame sensor camera with good high-ISO performance, typically shooting between ISO 3200-6400. A fast prime lens (f/1.8 or wider) captures more light, though the trade-off is reduced depth of field that makes focusing challenging. For smaller subjects, I found that focus stacking – taking multiple images at slightly different focus points and combining them later – produced sharper results than trying to achieve everything in one shot.

Lighting requires careful consideration. Many guides use powerful spotlights with red filters (which disturb wildlife less than white light), but these create harsh shadows and unnatural color casts. I supplemented with a subtle LED panel set to low intensity, allowing just enough fill light to reveal detail in shadowed areas without overwhelming the scene.

The stars of nocturnal Andasibe are the mouse lemurs – tiny primates with enormous reflective eyes that seem to float disembodied among the branches. Woolly lemurs and sportive lemurs also emerge after dark, moving with deliberate slowness that makes them easier to photograph than their daytime counterparts.

The chameleon experience transforms completely at night. During daylight, these reptiles display cryptic coloration to blend with surroundings. After dark, many species turn brilliant white against the vegetation, making them surprisingly easy to spot with a flashlight. Their slower nighttime movements also simplify focusing challenges.

Perhaps most remarkable were the leaf-tailed geckos (Uroplatus species) that demonstrate perfect camouflage during day but reveal their true forms at night. Photographing these masters of disguise required patience and precise focusing, but resulted in some of my most otherworldly images from Madagascar.