Photo: Snowy Egret, Petaluma Wetlands, CA.
There’s just something about birds. It doesn’t matter where I am, when a bird flies overhead I have to stop in my tracks and observe it. Living on the Pacific Flyway, I am especially drawn to the migratory birds that move steadily across the skies during both the Spring and Fall. Just the thought of their arduous journey, some flying thousands of miles to their final destination, leaves me in awe. I admire their stamina, their focus, their strength. They do constant battle with the elements and yet they keep going. Some would call it instinct, but I believe there is much more to it than some blind response to embedded DNA as they journey towards their final goal. If you stop and listen for awhile, really listen, you can hear the excitement in their calls as they begin to head north towards their breeding grounds. You can see the determination in their wings as they fight against strong headwinds and rally for position in their “V”. I can only imagine what it would feel like to have the ability to fly. To me it speaks of freedom. To me it speaks of joy. It is the ability to journey wherever you choose high above this cluttered earth. The ability to ride the spiraling currents and observe life from a safe altitude; all the things that I desire for myself. Perhaps that is why I photograph birds. By capturing their essence in photos I can study them and begin to dream. I can move beyond the confines of this human vessel and begin to soar.
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