Northern Cardinal at Cherry Hill Gate

Over the McMaster reading week, I wanted to take advantage of the nice, fall weather, hoping that the climate would be ideal for birds and wildlife. On October 14, I went with my family to the Hendrie Valley Sanctuary (Cherry Hill Gate) at the Royal Botanical Gardens, a favored spot in our family over the years to go and interact with various forms of life from birds to squirrels and chipmunks. 

Photographing animals throughout the day, I noticed that I often had to escape to quieter areas and allow life to come to me. This seems like an obvious task to take, but it’s something that can easily get lost when you are eager to be taking photos of whatever you immediately see. It is in these silent moments, away from the yelling kids and loud families who were sharing the trail that day, that I actually became exposed to the greatest number of birds. Patience, here, was the key. Normally when I go to Cherry Hill, I am also consistently trying to feed the wildlife, to get the birds to come to my hand and take seed - it is extra special and thrilling to get the opportunity to interact with the wildlife physically. However, this time around, I grounded myself in staying focused on my photography, which gave me a more opportunistic sense of spatial awareness, and I inhabited an inner calmness away from all the noise. 

Across the course of our time there, I was able to succeed in seeing so many different types of life, however there was something especially captivating about this cardinal. I came across it walking over the bridge; it was nestled in a tree, partially hidden, so I was able to climb atop a close by bench and elevate myself in order to get level shots. While I took pictures at varying angles and lengths, I believe this photograph succeeds in capturing the bird’s presence in its environment. Surrounded by the still-green leaves, I was able to focus on the redness of the bird in stark contrast. I felt as though I was sharing an intimate moment with it, there was nobody else around really, allowing me a few minutes of the bird’s time to appreciate it in its habitat. I believe this appreciation was mutual, as if the bird felt anxious and threatened, it could have flown away, yet it remained perched on the branch, glancing its gaze at me ever so often. It remained a highlight for me that day.