Nesting Tree Swallows

My last encounter with immature swallows was a memorable morning at the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, where I photographed American Cliff Swallows. 

However, that very morning in Huntsville brought an unexpected surprise.

While exploring, I accidentally came across a family of Tree Swallows. As soon as I noticed the cavity opening of a weathered, dead tree trunk, I was greeted by two pairs of bright little eyes.

While the offsprings were climbing out of the cavity, their parents watched them carefully from nearby.

An adult male Tree Swallow keeps a watchful eye on his chicks to ensure their safety

Preparation for the Nesting

 

It’s become a bit of a mid-May ritual for me to wander with my camera in the local cemetery in Huntsville, hoping to cross paths with the pair of House Finches that nest there.

That morning was wonderful.  I found them perched high on a spruce branch, completely absorbed in their morning routine.

The female was collecting dried grass and twigs, pausing to arrange them until she had a massive, tangled bundle clamped firmly in her beak.

With House Finches, it is almost entirely the female who does the heavy lifting when it comes to construction of nest. She builds it herself, taking anywhere from two days to a couple of weeks to weave the twigs, grasses, and rootlets into that neat cup shape.

While she is gathering materials, the male will accompany her, flying alongside her from place to place. He acts as a sentinel to watch for predators, keeps other males away, and to defend their territory. 

Fragmented Solitude - III

Dark clouds heavy, low, 

A lonely barn stands so still, 

Silence in the gray.

***

My experience with Facebook was short-lived; it lasted only two days.

I found myself surrounded by hundreds of excellent photographs, but instead of looking inward and asking, "What do I see?" my attention was pulled outward toward, "What are other people doing?"

After seeing a relentless stream of dramatic landscapes, high-contrast birds, and perfect, minimalist trees, I didn’t feel inspired. I was overwhelmed. 

Blogging feels entirely different from Facebook. It is quiet, reflective, and even poetic. I am never in a hurry when I look at other photographers' images or read their thoughts. Instead, I feel as though I am truly experiencing the world through their lens.

If I were 80 years old looking back at my photography, what would matter more—that thousands of strangers "liked" the photos, or that the images still feel unmistakably like mine?

There is a profound difference between studying an artist and consuming a feed on Facebook.

When I open Forms of Japan by Michael Kenna, I slow down. I spend time with a single photograph. I am entering his way of seeing. I feel a genuine relationship with his work—I live with his book, and I let it quietly influence how I see.

Losing my inspiration after just two days on Facebook showed me how easily we can be drowned out by too much noise. 

Generally, life is good.

Fragmented Solitude - II

 

I never truly arrive in the vast countryside , never truly immerse myself in it.  I remain even there utterly isolated.