The storm came fast. From the south, southwest. A day of sun to a day of clouds to a day of low clouds to a day of snow clouds. Silence proceeds the snow flurry like the calm before a twister rips your existence apart. But for that brief moment all is right with the world. Calm, serene even. Time to gather thoughts while you wait for nature to unveil herself.
The long lens comes off. The short lens goes on. How quickly our view changes. Any interruption in the vision and what you once thought was sacred returns now as a stranger welcome at your campfire. A few moments to walk, to look and to see what lives out there in the contrast of dark on light, warm on cold and good on evil. Horns of fire, faces of the land lit for fragile moments.
The silence broken by my footsteps on frozen snow. Temperatures below freezing but dead calm and the hope of sunset burns like fire to the west. I attempt to find high ground but once there the scene has changed and left me for another day. Just a few moments. Just look, see and figure out. Mental math of color and direction. Lack of color and mood. Give yourself five minutes. And with a camera, something you look through, something you engage with and pull close as opposed to the push at arms length. It makes a difference.
There above me is the hunter. Watching, waiting, curious about this human interloper. Under-lensed I wonder “What if?” And I wonder what he or she actually is. Coopers? Red-tailed? Sharp shinned? I never seem to get it right, which is why I keep coming back to study the books, the charts, the patterns and pieces. Reveal yourself young one. I need to know, to file away, to categorize and add to the muddled mix that is my knowledge bank. I take just a few moments and I watch and I listen.