The question "Why won't my camera focus?" is maddening because it feels like a personal failure, but the solution is almost always a simple switch - or a simple puzzle - you've overlooked.
Just last week, it was the only thing I could think about as I watched a string of blurry, useless images pop up on the back of my camera. Each one was a fresh jab of disappointment.
My first thought was to blame the dog. Juggling my camera, a big telephoto lens, and my rambunctious Saluki on a narrow path is a recipe for chaos. I figured it was just impossible. I had a choice: Finn misses his walk, or the camera stays home.
But the local reserve was calling to me. It was dragon and damselfly time. I had to give it one more try. I love taking photos of dragonflies.
At first, things felt right. I nailed a few sharp flight shots of a Red Kite. A quick glance at the screen showed a crisp image against the sky. The confidence started to return.
Then I spotted the damselflies, shining like tiny jewels over the water. One landed on a plant, I knelt, aimed, and… nothing. The lens hunted back and forth, refusing to lock on. The familiar knot of frustration tightened in my stomach.
Have I lost my touch?
Eventually I got a shot and eagerly checked the result. Uggh! Nothing was in focus!
Giving up was tempting.
But as I knelt there, I made a conscious choice to reframe it. Stop panicking, I told myself. This is just a puzzle. Something is in the wrong place, and your job is to find it.
That simple shift calmed me down. I took a breath and started investigating, beginning with a deliberate, slow review of every button and switch.
And that’s when I saw it.
The focus limiter switch on the side of my telephoto lens was set to “3m - ∞”.
I felt a flush of embarrassment, then a wave of pure relief.
I remembered my last shoot was of distant wading birds, and I'd flicked that switch to stop the lens from hunting through its full range. I just never flicked it back.
I slid the switch to "FULL." Pointed the lens back at the insect, still resting on the leaf. Click. Perfect, sharp focus. I could see the individual tiny hairs along the top of its body. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
It felt as though I had won a personal contest with myself!
That moment crystalized an idea I now carry with me on every shoot:
Frustration is a signpost pointing to a simple solution.
Our brain panics and imagines a catastrophic failure, but the answer is usually right there in our hands. The focus limiter switch was my culprit that day, but I've learned it's just one of several "simple culprits" that can hide in plain sight. Learning to spot them is the real skill.
It also made me think about the other "simple" things that have tripped me up.
Of course, there's the classic mistake of using the wrong focus mode, which has burned me before. I mean how can you mess up photos of an owl asleep in a tree? I did.
My camera had been on continuous autofocus, (called on my camera AF-C but it might be different if you don't use a Canon) and I let the camera drift to the left and it picked the background leaves that were gently waving and focused on them, instead of the motionless owl.
If I had taken the time to change to single shot (or AF-S) I would have likely achieved a better result. Sorry no photos to share with you, I was so disappointed in myself they were instantly deleted once I got home!
If you are an owl lover like me, you can see some great photos on my winter sunrise page, however.
I also remembered one time the problem wasn't a switch, but just a smudge.
A greasy thumbprint right on the lens contacts where they meet the camera. The camera and lens weren't talking to each other properly. A quick wipe with a clean cloth, and it was fixed. It’s the first thing I check now if a switch isn't the problem.
And then there's the rule I seem to have to relearn regularly: standing too close. Every lens has its physical limit..
If you're six inches away and the lens can only focus from a foot, it will never work. The only fix is to take one step back.
Sometimes the problem isn't a setting, but the scene itself.
Just yesterday, I was lucky enough to have a red kite land in our conifer tree, but it was behind the branches of another tree.
The autofocus would not work. It couldn't see the large bird of prey and kept focusing on the tree branches in front. In that situation, the only answer was to switch to manual focus, which worked perfectly. It's the ultimate override when the camera's brain can't see what your eyes can.
This experience changed how I approach problems in the field. When your camera refuses to focus, don't spiral into frustration. See it as a puzzle. Start with the simplest answer.
Is it a switch? Are the contacts clean? Is something blocking the camera's view or are you just too close?
Nine times out of ten, the monster of a problem you've built up in your mind is just a tiny switch waiting to be flicked.
It’s a lesson that goes far beyond photography. Check the simple things first. Breathe.
The solution is there, waiting for you.
Bookmark this page or take a screenshot of the list below.
Keep it in a 'camera help' folder on your phone.
That experience taught me to stop and think before getting frustrated. Now, when my camera won't focus, I treat it like a puzzle and run through this mental checklist. It's almost always one of these four things:
The Switch:
Is a focus limiter switch (e.g., 3m - ∞) or the AF/MF switch set incorrectly for my subject?
The Smudge:
Are the gold electronic contacts on the lens mount or camera body dirty? A quick wipe with a microfiber cloth can fix a bad connection.
The Step:
Am I standing too close? Every lens has a minimum focusing distance. The solution is often just taking one step back.
The Scene:
Is something in the way? If branches or fences are confusing the autofocus, switch to Manual Focus (MF) to tell the camera exactly what to look at.
Shooting Photos of Dragonflies and Damselflies
Photographing Short Eared Owls at Nene Washes
Carol is a wildlife photographer and nature writer based on the Cambridgeshire/Northamptonshire border.
Through her lens and words, she shares the stories of the natural world — from bluebells and butterflies to the awesome spectacle of a seabird colony.
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