The Writer as Bird Watcher

 
My brother-in-law moved from sunroom to kitchen on Christmas, camera in hand, and tried to get a shot of the chickadees and cardinals busy at the feeder. They’re so fast, he said to my husband. How do you get those pictures?

Peter explained his camera has a special setting for movement, but he sits for about ten minutes watching to get the rhythm of particular birds. When they’ll take flight, when they’ll land. Then he tries to match their timing.



Yes, a bird metaphor is coming. And I expect this one has been made before, but I’m flying forward because the words reminded me of quietly watching how characters behave in their daily lives, then diving for the words when something ordinary suggests a moment that might be revelatory. I imagine characters going their rounds just as I do: there’s breakfast, there’s procrastination, there’s a garden to be weeded or snow to shovel off steps. And sometimes I spot the menace of a rhubarb leaf or hear the sound of shovel striking stone and know it can be of use. I try to see and hear through other’s eyes and ears before I worry about the words to hold their rhythms. And while I’m waiting today, hungry birds and snow keep me company.