Already it seems as if we might just have dreamed it.
Once upon a time, one Saturday morning in February, we woke up in a crystal palace.
A thick and flawless blanket of snow had fallen silently through the Vancouver night. The sun had come out. Everything looked like a fairy tale.
The landscape itself was breathtaking so we just stood around, being robbed of breath.
Movement in my the trees made me think “… and there are birds.”
Not only is there landscape, but there are BIRDS in it. It felt like a surprise gift.
Of course I know this — given that I think about, follow, write about, and photograph the darn things every day of my life. But somehow it just struck me then that birds are like an extra dimension. Like a new hue in the colour spectrum. A huge bonus.
It made me remember that I didn’t really notice birds much until my 50’s.
In my twenties, I lived in a cabin miles from anywhere, and there must have been many birds in my solitary world. Somehow I remember the trees, the moss, lichen and wild flowers in great detail, but no birds. There must have been ravens, for heaven’s sake, but I just didn’t register them.
People often ask me how I came to start taking pictures of crows and other birds.
When both of my parents died within a couple of years of each other (almost twenty years ago now) I started photographing as a form of home-made therapy. I obsessively made very closely observed portraits of plants for several years, eventually turning it into my profession.
I can’t remember what year it was, but I was out in the garden, hunched over a hosta (as per usual) when I heard some crows making a terrific racket above me. I’m sure this was not the first time, but for some reason that day my head, tilted for so many years towards the earth, turned to look at the sky. In my mind, there was a creaking sound as I made the adjustment.
There are birds.
I finally noticed.
Better late than never, I guess.
And, as many of you know, once you start noticing crows, there’s no going back.
And they’re just the thin end of the wedge. Once you start watching crows, the next thing you know, there are house sparrows and starlings and robins and chickadees and flickers. And, good grief, was that a hummingbird …?
So, the snow day, beautiful as the scenery was, also served to make me appreciate the bird dimension of landscape all over again.
It was as if I’d forgotten about them all for a minute and then remembered.