When I was teaching, I used to meet students in Safeway who seemed shocked that I shopped for food. We get so used to seeing a person in a particular setting that we do not see them at all; they fade into the background. Â
I’m afraid that happens with birds, too. When we see a species often, we give it a â€?”name†and don’t really look at it anymore. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of replying â€?”Oh, that’s just a House Finch†when someone new to birding points one out.
If we had seen a lot of birds in Fresno, I might not have paid any attention to this House Finch flying to a feeder.Â
However, I didn’t immediately recognize what it was, so I tracked it until it landed in a nearby shrub
and then flew even higher, where his brilliant red head and chest stood out more clearly against the blue sky.
I’ve said this before, but I think it bears repeating that walking around with a camera makes you more aware of your environment. I labeled it â€?”The Zen of Canon†way back in May of 2004.
It’s certainly not a new idea. Coincidentally, I encountered this quote from Henry Miller on Facebook while working on this blog entry: â€?”The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.â€Â
Sounds sort of Whitmanesque, doesn’t it, maybe even Zen-like.