Sitting in my office tonight I reminisce of the week gone by. The windows are open and all is quite except the faint lone dog barking in the distance. The sound of a train whistle breaks the air. The sound of the keys on the keyboard, producing letters to be explored by those who come upon this imagery of contrast in weather and life from one weekend with life the weekend that followed.
Last weekend there was snow. There was lots of snow. There was more snow than we’ve had in few years. Being the adventurous person I am, I did a little camping in my backyard, sorta. Using a hunting blind as a tent, to protect me and my equipment I hid from the scurry of life in my backyard. Hiding is of importance here, wanting to photography the wildlife, I must hide, so they can live, eat and play. Wanting to be amongst them, but not changing their behavior is the goal. I set up my camera equipment inside, and then moved outside for a few minutes. I set up a few props also, hoping to bring the birds in close and have some control of the setting.
Soon a bird or two appeared. Starting in the back of the bushes they slowly worked closer to the feeder. Just a few hours before, there was food available on the ground everywhere, easy pickins. Now, all that is covered with snow. White snow is everywhere, and it may be a long night. All the food is covered, so the birds seek out the feeders to eat and gain energy for warmth to carry them though the night.
I sit inside the blind on an old cooler, with gloves, hat and coat on, watching, waiting, watching. Birds come and spend some time, moving from branch to branch, taking their turn at the feeder. Waiting their turn while keeping an eye in the sky. Danger not only comes from the cold and not having food to warm them through the night, but other birds (bigger birds) fly over. They feed at the bird feeders also. Only they don’t eat bird seed.
Something flew over. Something moved. I am not sure what it was, but the birds are alarmed. They all fly for cover. Some head for the bushes, and some for places unknown. The rush of wings is fast and furious, then silence fills the air once more.
Sitting there watching and seeing nothing out the window of my hide, I think of the photo ops I missed. I look back at some of the ones I captures on the back of my camera. Looking out, nothing, nothing at all is in sight. I pick up my soda and take a drink. Then another drink, put the cap back on and set it back on the ground. Patience pays off in this game of hunting with a camera.
Soon, I hear the chirp of another bird. Ten seconds of its voice fills the air. Then quite again. Soon another bird voices up, and another joins in. I hear the flutter of wings fly over my tent, and stop in the bush next to me. The window on that side is not open, so I am not able to see what landed there. Then the game of waiting it out starts again. A bird lands in the bush twelve feet away. It is joined by another. They hop and flutter from one resting area to another in front of me. But they are deep inside the bush, so taking the picture is out of the question. Still watching is fun. The anticipation is greater.
Fantastic. Just six feet in front of me it lands. I slowly swing my lens around, focus, and soon the sound of the camera joins in the chorus. The camera shutter sings as image after image are taken. I take one, then another, then a burst of images and then one more. One of those has to be the one. The contrast of sounds, both are music to my ears.
A week later contrast shows again. It was cold, wet and unforgiving when I took the images above. Today, things are different, or are they?
Again, I find myself hiding in the blind, sitting on my cooler and drinking another soda. Life can be so fun. It is warm with a little breeze. It is very comfortable sitting on my roost, with short sleeves on. Again, a game of patience. Sitting there and listening. I think about the pictures I had taken last week. I think about the pictures I would like to capture today. Contrast again, it is much easier today. I am warm and so are the birds. Last week there was little food for the birds, so they came in numbers to the feeding station in my backyard.
Today things would be different. I sat in my hide for ninety minutes. I listened to the slow breeze. I could hear a dog bark in the distance. Sometimes there would be two of them. I could hear neighbors out talking and moving things around. Contrast is here again. Much different from last week, sitting in the blind, watching survival playing itself in front of me.
I can hear birds singing their songs around me. But today would be different. A contrast of life again. I am not seeing many birds. Few are landing in the bush before me. There is food everywhere. Survival is not as difficult. A change in my backyard. A playground for some other adventurous visitors today.
Today a squirrel dominated the feeder. It sat there and ate and ate and ate. None of the birds dared to join in. They would sit and watch, then finally leave. Things are different this week. It is a feast for one today.
This squirrel was taking its time. I never filled it mouth full, it just ate one seed at a time. It would reach down for seed, then pop back up and keep its eyes open for trouble, and eat and eat and eat. Trouble could have been a big bird, like the little birds were on alert for last week. But, mainly this squirrel was on guard to defend it cache of food. Another squirrel friend would show up. It sat on the fringe area watching, pondering if it should make its move to the feed. Moving and stopping, moving again it would get too close. The one on the feeder would take off and chase it away. Then back to feast again, all to itself.
Then came along the bravest and most successful critter of them all. The squirrel was annoyed, but somewhat put up with a chipmunk that joined in to feast.
Cautiously the chipmunk would make its way close. It would move under the feeder to pick up feed on the ground. The squirrel would move some and off the chipmunk would run. Soon it appeared again, and repeat the scene again and again.
Then the little one became a little bolder. It would climb on the feeder with the squirrel. It would come up on the blind side of the feeder with a log laying between it and the squirrel. It would fill its mouth with seed and take off to empty it. Back it would come. Cautious, but daring it would climb up to the table. It would gather more seed, then jump up behind the log for a short time looking with anticipation, and figuring its next move. Again down into the feeder it would go. Filling its mouth with food to go hide for days to come, it was cautious watching the squirrels every move.
Slowly the squirrel became more accepting of the little one and the chipmunk became more bold and a little less nervous. It still had its guard up, but they shared, as there was plenty for each of them.
There was contrast from last weekend to this weekend. Both times I set out to photograph birds. One a cold, snowy,wintry day, I was lucky. Birds were everywhere, sharing and feeding at ease with each other. Today, a king of the feeder dominated it. No birds allowed, and no squirrels either. Then as its belly filled up, it welcomed a nervous little chipmunk. Both had all the food they needed, and life was much easier too.
Both days were enjoyable. Both days were different. I hoped for one thing, but quickly adapted to what I was given. Both were relaxing and fulfilling. Both produced some pictures and both took me far away from the grind of day-to-day living.
What a contrast. Great contrast happened in only a weeks time. Both are rewarding. I sitting here writing and thinking about another contrast I mentioned. The sights and sounds of this afternoon are on my mind, as I listen out an open window to the darkness and I pound keys on my keyboard to share the feast of life experienced in a little hide in my backyard.