Poetry in Motion

Birds are wary and do not linger long for photos. They dart in and out of the feeders, hiding frequently in the nearby holly's evergreen bows for shelter and camouflage.   I spend time sitting very still and sometimes they seem to forget I am there until I cross an ankle or turn my head, but still it is difficult to get a crisp shot.


If a hawk lands in a close high up branch they freeze.  They look like stuffed animals at the museum exhibit and do not turn a head to see if the shadow of the raptor is behind or beside.  They do not move one tiny feather.  Their form is that of a hunched life form ready to fly, but tucked tight in the center.  They are usually tucked beneath a flower pot, leafy branch or in deep shadow.


Thus the truth of nature is that motion catches the eye.  You know this if you have tried to view wildlife.  Someone may point out that bird or animal, but you cannot see it, unless it moves.  And then it comes into focus surrounded by grass or leaves or branches.


I learned that even I can be hidden.  As I sat on a plastic stool at the edge of the patio, camera in hand, trying to catch various bird photos I also disappeared.  I heard rustling leaves to my side, but assuming it was a digging squirrel, I only turned somewhat later.  There was a young deer digging for roots or moss.  A warning cry from some bird caused him to pause as he started the climb up the ridge toward my lawn.  He raised his ears, then lowered them, ignoring the warning.  He came out into the clearing  only 15 feet from me and I did not move but held the camera in his direction.  He seemed to sense something was amiss but continued to graze.  I clicked the camera and he did not seem to hear.  I continued to click and then he looked up and stared at me.  He tilted his head as if to get a better focus.  I did not move...he could not see me!  There I sat in full view and he stared for several minutes before something about me...perhaps the movement of my breathing caused him to trot off across the lawn and into the other side of the ravine.

Movement, the dance of the living, that is the key to it all.