It is a scene that has become distressingly familiar to the locals: a middle-aged man, increasingly red of face, prostrate in the mud with a camera clutched in his hand, emitting a series of desperate barks and whistles. All of this in the vain hope of arresting the subject’s attention for the fraction of a second required for a "formal" pose.

It is a specialized form of madness, I grant you. But oh, the elation when that frantic, muddy chaos aligns for one fleeting moment and becomes, quite simply, "The Shot."