You sit and wait for a certain specie of your feathered friends to appear, while waiting painstakingly in a spot for hours at times, in the cold, the bug-infested, or the scorching heat, in some remote tree top or grassy field.
Then there’s the other bird.
That little (or big) birdie just walks by and you get a whiff of gorgeous fragrance or deliciously tantalizing cologne.
She looks up, you get lost the instant your eyes meet.
She works intently and seems so angelic and immersed.
Or she could be frowning in concentration or tugging at her hair or shaking her head in unison with the music on her headphones and it takes all your efforts to look away.
You give her names, and I mean names with meanings and codes that you only comprehend. To another, they are just a haze of incoherence and that is their ignorance and certainly your bliss.
You revere in her presence and when she isn’t to be seen, in her thought.
She is a messiah for the parched desert that begs and prays for mercy.
Its just beauty that you appreciate and the Maker who has created this apparition.
You do all in your power to let her remain oblivious to your adulation..Cause if she found out, it would shatter you.. You don’t want acknowledgement or a reprimand. You don’t desire any of what the bird cagers want.
Yes, bird watching is an art.
And not all are pros.