The age-old question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin has just been rephrased as follows: "How many robins can dance on the head of an angel"?
And he's mighty angry!
Having built a nest over the door, this robin brought good luck to this house. Now I just need to ensure that I don't miss the arrival of her babies. After all, who doesn't like photographing tiny thing?
When I first captured this image, I meant to darken it to a silhouette, because it has strong lines. Then I realized that this robin's orange chest was one of the first joyful signs of spring!
Some say that dog owners eventually end up resembling their pets. If that is the case, then aspiring wildlife photographers transform into their subjects, too, a little. Annoying the latter during the process is somewhat akin to waking a bear out of hibernation. (I'm Russian, and I prefer to live up to the stereotype.)
So, if you ever see a person gripping their giant telephoto lens with both hands and intently staring into the great beyond, chances are that this person is, gasp!, photographing. Evidently, the amazing Captain Obvious has yet to visit these parts, since it is precisely in this very moment--teeth clenched and brow furrowed in fear of getting camera shake--that I often get approached by curious strangers.
This time around, curiosity (it killed the cat, I'll have you know!) actually worked out to my advantage. Scared off, the robin I was photographing flew deeper into the grove, and instead of getting terrifying closeups of its eyes again, I captured imagery that makes the Pacific Northwest look like a tropical paradise.
Bless your heart, annoying stranger! ;)
No one ever suspects....a ROBIN.