My day is too short, my list too long. Books and projects tug at my attention, while bills and guilt lurk in every shadow. I wonder if this is how sparrows feel as they forage and flirt, keeping their constant predator alert…
bird watching
Norfolk Botanical Garden
It was a beautiful day for a walk with friends, and Norfolk Botanical Garden provided a beautiful setting. Warm sun, gentle breeze, and acres of flowers. I didn’t see many bees and butterflies, but there were plenty of turtles. And geese. Even a pair of nesting eagles…
More from the Blue Jays
Nest complete, the blue jays spend hours on end in the wax myrtles. They defend their honeymoon suite with harsh calls and indignant attacks–innocent warblers fare no better than foraging crows. Rabbits aren’t allowed to graze in the yard, and the merest quiver of a squirrel whisker raises apocalyptic alarm.
Between these bouts of aggression, the lovers perch together and mumble softly to each other. They feed each other, public displays of “affection” that make me wonder about their behavioral chemistries. How does a body cope with such abrupt changes? They interrupt bonding with outbreaks of tumultuous fury, then switch back to bonding, over and over again in the course of a day. In the span of a minute, sometimes. The physiologic stress must be enormous, and yet it seems to work for them. How?
The Birds and The Bees
It’s definitely that time of year. Today’s walk in the park was all birds and bees. (Mostly birds, and most of the birds were osprey.)
Photo Failure, Tufted Titmouse
I’ve been hearing a tufted titmouse call for weeks. These birds have a loud, clear call that carries. (You can hear a sample here.) I find it hard to guess how far away the bird is, when I hear one calling, but it always seems to be across the road or in a neighbor’s yard or a few streets over.
Today one visited our yard, hopping through the pear tree as it sang. I desperately wanted a picture of this little bird and managed to catch several frames of it. None of them are quite right. The top photos are my best shots of the day, but I never did get “the” picture.
The following are a few of my failures. They are like many of my writing failures, suffering from poor focus, flat light, or awkward angles. But, unlike my writing, I can’t save these photos. They are missed opportunities with no chance of salvage. I can’t edit them into success.
I hope to remember these photos the next time I sigh over a stubborn phrase, resenting the work of revision.
Rae Spencer 