43 thoughts on “Concentration”

    1. vovazinger Post author

      Thank you very much. It seemed to me that this title correctly conveys the state of this bird.

      Reply ↓

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    1. vovazinger Post author

      Thank you very much. I did it this way because I thought it was the most appropriate for this scene.

      Reply ↓
    1. vovazinger Post author

      Thank you very much. It is very interesting to photograph this bird. They are very beautiful and graceful.

      Reply ↓
      1. matt

        Indeed they are. I spent easily half an hour shooting essentially the same shot, but just couldn’t bring myself to leave/stop watching. (I think mine go out next week).

      2. vovazinger Post author

        You are lucky. Because these birds are very cautious, and in my case they do not let them get too close and watch them for a long time.

      3. matt

        I am, no doubt. But in my post I talk about walking up on him and startling him — he flew a big lap around the pond and landed some distance away.

    1. vovazinger Post author

      Thank you very much, Dolly. One of the reasons I love photographing herons is because they have character. And when I photograph them, I try to show it. Not all of my attempts were successful, but I like this one.

      Reply ↓
      2. vovazinger Post author

        Unfortunately, we don’t like characters, not just birds. I think bird character is the easiest case.

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  15. dianeklammer

    Heron’s Beak
    Maybe it’s birdsong, as
    to own a bird, I must live
    in a house of glass walls.

    Once sciatica became mine,
    it became mine forever.
    Birdsong can be piercing,

    especially in night’s awakening.
    Birdsong can be soothing.
    What is that warbler’s message?

    Call it a neural communication,
    a sharp throb to tell me
    to stop doing whatever

    I am doing. A lengthy story
    of what will happen if
    I persist with the same

    motion, firing axons
    and dendrites warning
    me not to keep going.

    Call it mitochondrial zap,
    a kick in the back
    with steel booted shoes.

    Call it the red- yellow-
    green light of throb,
    the on again off again.

    Call it gratitude
    when it fizzles out-
    dissipates- gives way-

    a space to stretch out again
    like a heron in flight, a
    Great Blue with piercing

    beak which can put out an eye,
    but when the heron flies from
    its nest to land on a pond,

    call it interlude between pain,
    a flight from tree nest to lake
    Call it relief -the water-dance,

    that swim to relieve the burning-
    When the herons are joined by
    a flock of white pelicans,

    we are all synchronized
    swimmers in water the pool.
    When I swim, I am flying, as

    a heron flies on the air’s currents,
    looking down into aqua blue depths,
    looking up to sky as feather clouds

    change shape before my eyes.
    Call it lightning and thunder,
    before the burning returns,

    when we all must get out
    to shore for safety reasons.
    Call it weight of the world,

    when I climb out on ladder-
    step by step- to be
    earthbound, trapped again like

    a heron again walking on
    land looking uncomfortable.
    Agony immediately descends.

    It is a long distance back,
    not a mere squint through
    binoculars as far becomes near.

    Call it success- to make it
    through another moment. Call it
    jellyfish sting. Call it fire ant bite.

    Call it pillow down when sleep
    robs the hurt- erases the pain
    as I magic carpet my dreams.

    Reply ↓

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