Friday, March 3, 2017

Golden-crowned Kinglet in Fall

Oil, 15 x 30 inches

It was clear to me that the forest's energy was in a holding pattern, reserved, and wary of disturbances on a late October day. Movements besides mine weren't going to happen except with a little luck. I wasn't expecting much. I had already walked a bit and settled into the smell of fresh air, my camera relinquished to my side. Such are the waning days of fall, when life recedes backwards until the first snowfall slingshots the next season into play. 

I've become familiar with kinglets over the past few years, and when neither sound nor clear sight of this bird is possible, its movements will almost always reveal its species. Such was the case with this little guy whose flitting caught my attention while he foraged in heavy brush. Alas! It was the luck I'd been hoping for. 

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he alighted onto the path in front of me, somewhere, just a few feet away. But where? Even though I was sure of his position, I couldn't see him. We both stood still, so very still, a meeting of strangers, with only one visible to the other. I lifted my camera no further than my waist and took a random shot, knowing that milliseconds mattered. Experience has taught me this over the years. And it just so happened: right place, right time, good focus, and one perfect little bird. What a delicate composition of fleeting moments just before he disappeared back into the forest unseen. This is a male, Golden-crowned Kinglet, an original oil painting from my forest adventures on October 20th, 2016.

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