On Feb. 23 at about 1 p.m., I walked into the Greenfield Community College Downtown Center with more than a little trepidation. I had agreed to deliver a symposium on birds and winter survival, which was a topic I knew well. But, I was still nervous. I was going to be in front of a crowd of strangers and I knew that the area’s population of extremely strong birders meant that I had to be in top form. I simply couldn’t make any mistakes.
When the moment finally came for me to start talking, I broke the ice with a joke. “After years of working as a school teacher, I’m used to performing in front of a hostile audience. If you want to yell and scream, go right ahead, but if you feel compelled to throw anything, please make sure it isn’t sharp, or pointy,” I told them. I got the laugh I was looking for, so perhaps, I thought, it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
Actually, this was the most generous, supportive and engaged audience I had ever worked with. A far cry from my normal audience of teenagers, this crowd had taken time out of their day and signed up to attend my lecture.
Furthermore, there were plenty of those expert birders I had anticipated. Who, after all, could identify a purple sandpiper in under five seconds? Yes, this was an impressive bunch!
The laughter and good cheer in the audience put my jitters quickly to rest, and I found myself relaxing and having a lot of fun. Outstanding questions were being asked and before I knew it, the first hour was already over. Numbered tickets had been handed out to the audience and a random winner was called up to accept a copy of my most recent book. During the intermission, I found myself in front of a long line of smiling people that simply wanted to say “hello.” I was, and remain, overwhelmed.
When my talk resumed (at least I think it was about then), we found ourselves talking about photography and some of the close shots that I had brought for show and tell. I happened to comment on the fact that my favorite photos are those taken from such close range that I can actually see my own reflection in a bird’s eye. The audience laughed along when I kept insisting that I could be seen in photo after photo, and one person suggested that be the topic of my next column.
What a great idea! I have a personal goal of 20,000 nature photos per year as a measure of whether I’m getting out and being productive. I don’t keep even half of them, but after 19 years of photography, I have tens of thousands of photos in my collection. Searching for photos that featured me in the reflection of an eye was no small task, but I had a starting point in mind.
My first photo was originally of the front half of a female snapping turtle that was crossing the road, and I was worried that she would get hit. I pulled over, backed up, grabbed her by the tail and dragged her over into the relative safety of a roadside ditch. Not wishing to get bit in the face, I took my camera, set it on a flat rock in the bottom of the ditch, and started taking photos. The result was a gorgeous close-up of the turtle’s head, complete with a very recognizable reflection of me in its eye.
I continued searching for photos of birds, but didn’t have the same results. Some of the birds, like cormorants and herons, were extreme close-ups, but their irises were bright colors that managed to diminish the impact of my reflection. I needed a bird with dark eyes. So finally, I settled on a photo of a blue jay that I took earlier this year.
It was morning, and I was looking east in the general direction of the sun. The jay should have been a silhouette, but the light reflecting off my house was so bright that it illuminated the bird with beautiful, soft light. Blue jays have chocolate brown eyes that look black in the right light and, as a result, there is a wonderful reflection of my red house with the white trim around my kitchen window and my kitchen door. You can even see a reflection of one of my many bird feeders.
Before I close, I have to extend my deepest gratitude to Carl and Joanne. Carl, please thank your wife for the remarkable book on the birds of Amherst and Hampshire County. Originally published in 1887, this wonderful book has all sorts of interesting obsolete names, like the “Chewink,” for the eastern towhee, and the “yellow bird,” for the American goldfinch. What a treasure!
Joanne, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the antique book that you gave to me as a birthday present. Published in 1892, this book has clearly been loved by many people. The cover is a bit worn, but when opened, the pages are filled with illustrations of exceptional beauty. Another treasure to add to my collection.
Thanks again to everyone who attended. You were all wonderful to spend time with and you gave me a boost that I don’t quite have words to describe. All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and he also teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.