Winter Wins

I recently came to appreciate the allure of gambling, the big win that’s just one pull, one roll of the dice away.

But, I wasn’t in a casino with bright lights and chips.

I was in my house. Taking pictures of birds.

Freezing rain pulled pine boughs so low that dozens of cardinals, juncos, and finches were queuing up to eat just a few feet from my kitchen window. 

The ice made standing outside in my usual spot with my camera too treacherous, so I did what anyone would do under those circumstances: I set a tripod on the counter, attached the long lens… and opened the window over my kitchen sink.

Yes, I did. 

It was 19 degrees outside.

And windy.

And, sometimes, sleeting.

The odds were very much against my getting even decent pictures, but I had to try for the big win: perfect catchlights, perfect pose, perfect composition.

I just knew that the clouds were going to lift and one of those birds was going to land among frosted branches. I was ready.

Like a woman at the slots, I stood transfixed at my viewfinder, taking picture after picture. 

My shoulders began to cramp from leaning over the counter to work a camera a foot in front of me at eye height. And, I was cold.

I finally, grudgingly closed the south window over the sink. While I was shrugging the kinks out of my shoulders and blowing feeling into my fingertips, I walked past a different window and saw, in a lilac bush shiny with ice, a bright male cardinal in a perfectly regal pose. 

I hurried to the back porch and quietly opened the door just enough to get my lens out, pointed at the bush, and waited. 

I knew the cardinal would fly away, and I knew it might be 10 minutes before any birds returned, but I also knew it would be worth the wait when they did. I just knew it. Today was my day. While I waited, I imagined all those perfect images of cardinals and finches on ice-covered branches. 

My porch is not heated. I was not wearing a coat. My house slippers were no match for the cold seeping up from the concrete floor.

I mentioned that it was 19 degrees out, right?

I was leaning out the door and holding, without gloves, nearly 6 lbs of camera and lens, right thumb ready on the focus button, right forefinger ready on the shutter release, and arthritis whining in my hand.

Cardinals returned but stayed maddeningly “safe” on the back side of the lilac bush. 

Braver finches and chickadees teased hopes of a perfect picture as they waited their turn at the feeder from the top branches of the bush. 

Eventually, my common sense won out, and I returned to the house intending to dress more appropriately.

Until I walked past the window over my sink and saw all those beautiful birds close enough to touch….

I put the camera back on the tripod, threw open the window, and waited for the birds to get comfortable enough with my presence to return. 

By 12:30, even though the thickening clouds made sharp pictures impossible and the burning in my trapezius muscles was building, I had to employ some serious self-talk to close the window and walk away. 

The dark skies were going to keep me inside the rest of the day, but the 239 pictures I had taken all morning kept my dreams alive. I just knew there had to be a winner. I set out for the computer in my much more comfortable bedroom.

The world fell away as I leaned forward and peered closely at the birds on my screen. I made decisions quickly at first: Too soft. No catchlights. Snowflake blotting his eye. Eyes closed. Blue Jay photo bombed. From the beginning again, this time more carefully. Nope: head at odd angle. Nope: twig in a bad spot. Nope: background too cluttered.

Delete. Delete. Delete. 

Two hundred and thirty-one deletes, to be exact. 

Yes. At that point I had deleted all but eight pictures. 

I leaned back in my chair. The room was now dark except for the light from my screen. I stretched and kneaded my shoulders. I had kept eight pictures, and I knew I’d likely finally end up with only two or three. Maybe. And none of those was a “big win.”

But, it had been a good day for me in the world of backyard bird photography.  I’d settle for “just” winning the time to watch, study, and listen to such beautiful little creatures.

I picked up my phone to find four texts, three emails, and five reminders from Fitbit to get up and move. I had neither seen nor heard a single alert. 

I rubbed my eyes and checked the next day’s weather forecast. Clear skies at sunrise giving way to high clouds mid-morning. 

I smiled and thought, “A perfect morning for bird pictures. Tomorrow could be my lucky day.”

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24

Thank You, Lord, for the gift of time – sometimes minutes, sometimes a rare whole day – to glory in the beauty of your creation. Thank You for the opportunity to share that beauty. And, thank You for a husband who not one time said, “Are you crazy? Shut that window!” Amen.