How Corey Flint became a Lincoln, MA Photographer
From Herpetologist Dreams to a Different Dream Job: Lincoln, MA Photographer
When I was 10, I told E.O. Wilson I wanted to be a herpetologist.
(That’s someone who studies reptiles and amphibians—not herpes, just to clarify.)
Mostly I think I just really liked discovering and catching frogs, toads, salamanders, turtles—whatever I could get my hands on. I don’t know why my parents let me do this, but I’d come home from trips to the Blue Hills with live ass animals that we’d set up in a tank or some old Tupperware, and more often than not… they’d be dead by the end of the week.
As I reflect on it now, I think it wasn’t really about collecting the (soon to be expired) animals. It was about the hunt. The thrill of discovery. The possibility of uncovering something rare and hidden that most people would walk right past. Turning over rocks in pursuit of a salamander or dipping a net into a vernal pool to see what I’d find gave me a dopamine hit like nothing else.
My mom told me recently that I’d sometimes have a meltdown if we had to go home before I found a snake. Which, in hindsight, feels pretty on-brand.
So I decided I was going to be a herpetologist. That way I could do this all day and get paid for it.
But then life happened. My parents got divorce. I struggled with confidence and fitting in. I had untreated ADHD. I discovered alcohol and drugs made me feel a lot better, and I started spiraling. I tried to stick with wildlife conservation in college, but by the time I hit senior year, I couldn’t keep it together. I dropped out with just a few months to go.
Fast forward about 6 years.
I was on my honeymoon with Sue in Costa Rica when something woke up in me again.
I noticed some other travelers had these fancy cameras with giant lenses—and when I chatted with a few of them, I realized they were wildlife photographers. That old curiosity spark lit right back up. That desire to observe, to notice, to capture something fleeting.
When we got home, I bought a fancy camera, a giant lens, and I became completely obsessed with bird and wildlife photography.
Fast forward another 10 years, and I’m now a professional photographer who lives in a place surrounded by woods, trails, and vernal pools. The town even puts up “Amphibian Crossing” signs on our road during the first warm, rainy nights in March. The first spring peeper of the year is still my favorite sound. And I can’t wait to take my son and daughter out to look for spotted salamanders so we can help them cross the road safely.
So no—I didn’t become a herpetologist. But the part of me that wanted to be one? That part is still alive and well.
Back then, I was always searching for something most people walked right past—peeking under rocks, scanning the surface of still water, noticing what was just barely hidden. I think I’m still doing that now, in a different way.
As a photographer, I’m not just aiming for a good picture. I’m looking for what’s beneath the surface. For the quiet bond between family members, the spark of personality behind a glance, the humor, the tenderness, the soul of the moment that might otherwise stay hidden.
Sometimes, before I can capture something meaningful, I have to find it. Or more accurately—uncover it. Peel back the awkwardness, the camera-awareness, the idea of “looking good,” until something real emerges.
And that’s the part that makes being a photographer a dream job.
Since having kids and becoming a professional portrait photographer I haven’t had lots of time to do wildlife photography, but if you want to see some I have a series up at The Twisted Tree Cafe at Lincoln Station. If you’re an Instagram user and want to see photos along with silly commentary you can find that here:
(Warning: none of the subjects are wearing any clothes.)
Also—just for fun—what did you want to be when you were a kid? I’d love to hear your version of “herpetologist.” Feel free to leave a comment below!
