The northern harrier has a swaying flight and is comfortable flying close to the ground. This picture was taken on a different day from the harrier encounter described below (when I did not have a camera on me). As a reference, this picture holds useful information that I can use for an art project: bird and landscape coloring, wing position during flight, the pattern of a wooded area, the way a dusting of snow covers a field.
The camera is an amazing invention with a value that needs no explanation. More often than not, I carry a camera with me. A simple errand can quickly turn into an impromptu photography session at the sight of a deer or dragonfly. The ability to freeze special moments in time at the press of a button is an ability I utilize frequently.
Over the years I have accumulated an extensive collection of pictures that I often dive into when searching for references to use for art projects. An image can lie deep within my archives, waiting for just the right moment to be pulled out and used in some way. These pictures do not even need to be of the best quality; I can usually acquire helpful information from them anyway, such as the posture of a bird, the pattern of a butterfly’s wings, or the shapes of leaves from different angles.
While a camera allows me to document photogenic occasions and information for later use, I do run the risk of missing out in a way that is not so clear at first. The risk is to view entire experiences through a camera lens alone. Photographs enhance memories, but the process of taking them can diminish experiences to mere pixels viewed on a screen and not with my own eyes despite the opportunity for doing just that being right there.
One late winter afternoon, I watched a northern harrier fly across a quiet road. It maintained a low, swaying flight over a field of tall grass and took its time examining the earth beneath it. Completely unfazed by the car in which I sat, which was, by then, parked on the side of the road, the harrier flew closer to me than a harrier has ever been before. The setting sun cast a golden glow on the grass and on the harrier itself as the snow glittered. All was picture perfect. And I did not have a camera. And I did not mind. The experience remained beautiful and special and one that I will remember for a long time.
Documenting experiences with pictures and fully experiencing the wonder of the photo-worthy with my own eyes in real time are two goals that are not without friction. I do my best to appease both. When I have a camera with me, I make an effort to not exclusively view whatever or whoever is in front of me only through a lens. I make sure to turn the camera off and look. I have missed out on many moments that would have made great pictures, but during those times, I did not miss out on seeing firsthand the magic of what was right in front of me.