Do you know how happy I am when I get a chance to photograph? On the happiness scale, I’m near the top. The camera comes out and I begin to vibrate. Subject matter be damned, but throw in something I like and my ranking rises even higher. Throw in something I like in good light and I’m almost beside myself. There is no future projection of “Oh, I can’t wait to post these.” Never. There is no perceived gain or reward. There is simply the joy of making work. It comes and goes fleetingly fast. Cruel, some would say. Mere minutes are all it takes to spike me up, then down again with the betrayal of the sun.
This moment was about the osprey.
I like birds. I don’t know that much about birds, but I’m learning. I’m trying to be a bird nerd, but like the rest of my life, my bird knowledge is scattered and superficial. For those wondering, I don’t keep a list. I have a list, several actually, but they are incomplete and rarely referenced. I can’t even sign on to my bird apps because they won’t take my password. I don’t exist. I just ate a chocolate doughnut that contained more calories than I burned in my entire morning workout. Weights, run, bike, stretch, more walking. Still, the doughnut caloric bomb won out. I followed it with two pieces of fritada, three pieces of toast, and a protein smoothie. I now weigh 173.5 pounds, by far the heaviest I have ever been. I’m enjoying my girth as a large mammal.
Following the doughnut, I looked at the clock and saw a small gap appear. Post meeting, pre meeting. My first thought, “I could have another doughnut.” And then I thought of the birds. The photographs, and I knew I needed to have a little deeper look. Nothing in stone, just a few minutes to put a few things together to see what’s there. This is what photography is all about, at least for me. Making sense of things. Quickly, because that’s what modern life is about. Pumping electronica in my ears, a glaze of sweat across my body, and a mind that craves the next thing.
I set a timer. Ten minutes. These spreads are clumsy, but these spreads make me think. They make me edit and make decisions. Something good will come from this exercise. I missed both chances at the impact with the water. It was dark, I was slow, the bird didn’t cooperate. I have many excuses, all totally valid. But it was dark, and I was slow, and the fucking bird didn’t give me a heads up. I had sand in my eye. My shorts were riding up into the unknown. My feet hurt. There were mosquitoes. The weekend went too fast, and the upcoming week threatens heavy weather. F%$#.
You ever get the feeling there’s something more? I’m guessing you do. I find these moments motivating beyond belief. Scary too. What if? And then the crushing reality of reality comes back, and I forget the entire exercise. Photography is often what allows me these moments, even when I’m concentrating on blowing moments like birds impacting the water. I’m there but I’m not there, at least in a Zen Buddhist way of staying in the moment. I’m there, and kinda in the moment, but several moments are playing out at the same time. I’m left with more questions than answers. I’m left knowing I don’t know as much as I’d like to know, about anything. But the little rectangles and edges and frames and limits and fractions of a second are there to help me put boundaries on the world. I carry those boundaries over to the book where the same game plays out through droplets on crushed fiber.
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I’m enjoying my girth as a large mammal ….can’t wait to tell my wife that after I eat half a pizza.
Author
She will love you even more.
Hmm, “droplets on crushed fiber” – I think I’ll write that down.
Author
It’s a good one. The cold, hard science of it all.
Like a moth to a flame or a bee to a flower your posts always leave us wanting more. Reminds me of the scene from Dead Poet’s Society where they were gathered around Mr. Keating. He states, “We were romantics. We didn’t just read poetry; we let it drip from our tongues like honey.”
Your friends my friend drip like honey.
Thank you for insights and doughnut filled wisdom (good to know I am not alone in that struggle lol).
sorry mistype: should have read “your words drip like honey”
Author
All good.
Author
That was such a solid flick. Too bad we don’t see many of those anymore.
Happy Wednesday Dan. I enjoyed this post, I enjoy osprey’s. There has been an osprey nest near my house for the past 6 or 7 years now. I can’t tell you the amount of time I have spent watching that nest, taking photos of the parents when they arrive back in the spring and start cleaning up and repairing the nest from what old man winter has done to their home. A few short weeks later, we are treated to the arrival of their babies. Time goes by fast watching the parents tend to their little ones and, like my own child, before you know it, they’ve taken flight and have gone off on their own. But this year the nest has been empty, a pair of bald eagles had been trying to claim the nest and so there was a feud and in the end, neither the bald eagles or the osprey claimed the nest. 🙁 I still see the osprey fishing in the river, but I have not been able to find another osprey nest in the area. May be next year they will return, but if not, I have the pictures of past years to go back to and enjoy. As always Dan, stay safe and be well.
Mike
Author
Birds are incredibly cruel to each other. Those nest cams are horrifying. A bird comes in and just thrashes the babies of another bird. Just for fun. Crush a couple, toss another from the nest. Ho hum.