We live in an area full of beautiful birds.

The morning sky lights up pink as flocks of roseate spoonbills chase the horizon.

Cranes and herons stand haughty and elite, judging the marsh below them with half interest and disdain while balancing, uninterestedly, on one foot.

Ibis grace us with their presence, but only on the foggiest of mornings; and only if they think no one is looking.

Elusive birds all.

They trade on their beauty.

Coquettish and shy, they seduce photographers in wading boots far from the shore, draw them a little further out; tease the current, exchange daring for an image, freeze framed in celluloid or pixel form.

These are the birds people brag about crossing paths with. Hope to encounter. Trade images like currency on birding sites.

These are the birds people wake up early to stalk.

But….there are other birds.

Birds that fly low on the radar. Dare not aim for the horizon.

Birds that turn their back on the camera. Know that they are not photogenic.

Know they are function over form.
Durability over grace.

Know they are meant to exist, flat footed, behind the curtain, while pretty birds take center stage.

Know they are meant to clean the auditorium after the final libretto as white and black swans take a final bow in formal plumage, on pointed toes.