Short Rest on the Reeds

It was a warm spring day, almost summer, and I was biking around my small town. Birds were chirping, nature finally waking up from its yearly slumber, when I noticed the day had a glowing quality to it. Light shimmered and weaved through branches of trees with their rich green leaves, still young and bright. I had a sudden spark of inspiration, and I realized what I needed to do.

I rushed home, the gears of my bike clanging together, only stopping to cross. I exploded through the front door and hurriedly grabbed my camera, which was almost as old as me. I hung the strap of the camera over my neck, and as soon as I got on my bike and began pushing the pedals, I realized I severely underestimated, or ignored entirely, the difficulty that would be biking with a camera hanging in the wind. It seemed that no matter how I biked, slow or fast, knees out or in, the camera would swing around, hitting my knees after each pedal. Eventually, I developed a technique where I would string around my neck and loop it over my arm. This way, it had no room to swing but it was still uncomfortable nonetheless.

At that point, I was still contemplating where to go to capture the sun’s beauty. My mind went to one place: behind the local pond. It is a peaceful spot, hidden by tall orange trees and the reeds which grow in the water. In the center, a bench, decorated by two hand carved peacocks on either side. An alcove from the suburbia which surrounds it.

I rested the bike against its kickstand and hung my helmet over it. I took out my camera, a Nikon D5000 with a variable lens which went from 55-200 mm, and sat on the bench. I didn’t expect to see much wildlife at first, but I imagined that as I sat there the squirrels and birds would become accustomed to my presence. I was hopeful. It took about 40 minutes, but eventually the birds began to return to their routines. However, my impatience got the best of me, and I began to frame my shots too early. Once again the birds retreated to their homes in the greenery, poking their heads out occasionally, only to disappear again.

I decided to rework my strategy. I took photos from the bench, but was careful not to get too close. As I implemented it, I saw success. Birds began to swoop through the reeds, calling out to each other. I saw birds that I had never seen before. Birds with wings of bright orange and deep reds, birds with ruffled manes of white and brown, and before I knew it they were okay with me coming closer to better frame my shots.

I saw a single bird hanging on a stray reed. It was one of the birds decorated with a ruffled white and brown mane. It was away from the bunch, and the lush scenery enveloped it. As soon as I saw it, I had a feeling it would be my best shot of the day. I was careful not to create too much noise, and over the course of a few minutes I stepped close enough to take a good shot. I focused my camera and took the photo as soon as I could. As if it was waiting, it took off as soon as I was done.

I rushed back to my bike to review the photo. I’m not sure what it was about it, but I could already tell it would be one of my favorites. I strung the camera over my neck and looped it around my arm once again, and rode home. I’m sure I must’ve missed another potential photo, but I was excited to get home and edit this one. I spent a while in Lightroom, tweaking barely noticeable features, to get it just how I wanted it. I knew when I was done, it felt right. When I look at this photo, I am proud of the patience and effort that got me it. A single bird on a reed.