A Day of Patience, Blossoms, Songbirds and Surprises - April 5, 2025

Yesterday was one of those picture-perfect spring days—sunny, warm, and filled with promise. I had one simple goal in mind: capture portraits of spring flowers and little songbirds. Sounds easy, right? Not exactly.

Photographing songbirds is a practice in patience, humility, and, frankly, a good sense of humor. They dart, flit, and dance between branches, and just when I think I’ve got the shot… butt photo. Every bird photographer has a memory card full of them—fluffy behinds taking flight. And I swear, sometimes I think the birds are laughing at me.

But on this day, something shifted.

I started off down a new forest trail, drawn in by the calls of at least seven or eight different birds (thanks, eBird!). But between the thick foliage and the speedy wings, I couldn’t get a clean shot. Frustrated, I looked down—and that’s when I spotted them: two slugs.

Did You Know? Forest slugs play a vital role in the ecosystem by acting as nature’s recyclers! These slow-moving creatures help break down decaying plant material, fungi, and even animal waste, turning it into nutrient-rich soil. Without them, forests would be buried under layers of debris. Also, when threatened, some slugs retract their tentacles—like a built-in "hide and seek" defense!

So next time you spot a slug on a mossy path, remember—they’re tiny eco-warriors in gooey armor!

At first, they recoiled, pulling their antennae in like ostriches burying their heads. I waited, quietly and respectfully, my long bird lens now a slug lens. Slowly, they reemerged, curious and cautious. I watched them go about their lives, inching forward despite their fear. It made me smile. These little creatures reminded me to push forward too—just like them. Be patient. Stay focused. Keep trying.

So I did. I left the forest trail and headed toward the open farm fields, lined with bushes and the possibility of better bird visibility. My goal? A portrait of a little songbird.

And then it happened.

Perched just feet from me, puffed up and absolutely precious, was a Pine Siskin—a new species for me! She looked at me with what I can only describe as nervous curiosity. I spoke to her softly, and unbelievably, she stayed. I snapped her portrait, absolutely stunned that she let me. I was buzzing inside.

And just when I thought the magic had peaked, I heard that familiar hummingbird chatter. I turned around and there he was—an Anna’s hummingbird perched atop a giant sprinkler on the edge of a forest growing site. As he turned his head, his red and green feathers flashed in the light like a jewel. I caught it—click. Another portrait. A bolt of joy shot through me.

Bird Real Estate Tip #1: When you're an Anna’s hummingbird with big main character energy, you don’t perch on a twig like everyone else—you take the penthouse suite. There he was, sitting proudly atop the tallest sprinkler in the field like it was his personal throne. All that was missing was a tiny crown and a scepter made of nectar. I half expected him to declare himself King of Spring!

I turned back to the Pine Siskin—she was still there. I thanked them both for their presence, their stillness, their trust. And then I giggled all the way back to the car.

At first, I thought I’d just gotten lucky. But on the drive home, I realized it wasn’t luck. It was a shift in mindset. I focused clearly on what I wanted—portraits of little birds—and I stepped into the flow of that excitement. I let go of frustration and tuned into presence. And just like that, two beautiful moments appeared, back to back. Still buzzing, I headed to my next location, heart full and memory card finally containing more than just butt shots.

Fawn Lilly

My next stop was a local beach, but this time I wasn’t after shorebirds. Today’s mission: little birds, I reminded myself as I stepped out of the car. Instantly, I heard the deep call of a Pileated Woodpecker and the soft coos of Mourning Doves—but spotting them? That was another story. They stayed hidden, tucked somewhere deep in the trees. My frustration started to creep in.

So I wandered farther into the boggy area behind the beach, keeping an eye on where I stepped so I wouldn’t sink into the muck. And that’s when it happened—bam! Two male Red-winged Blackbirds burst into view, flying right past me in a flurry of flashing red and black, battling it out for a nearby female. One landed panting on a branch like, phew, that was hard work, while the other retreated to a distant tree.

Did You Know? The bold red and yellow shoulder patches—called epaulets—on a male Red-winged Blackbird aren’t just for show, they’re his built-in bragging rights! During mating season, he flashes those vibrant colors to defend territory and impress the ladies. The brighter and bigger the epaulets, the more intimidating he looks to rival males—and the more attractive he is to potential mates. When he's relaxed or trying to sneak around, he can actually hide the red and just show black. Talk about mood lighting!

I couldn’t believe I was right there in that moment—so close I could feel the air shift from their wings.

Then a Song Sparrow perched nearby and let out a loud, cheerful tune. I wasn’t sure if she was cheering them on or laughing at them, but her melody felt like a soundtrack to the whole scene.

Not long after, a White-crowned Sparrow showed up and gave me the portrait I’d been dreaming of—crisp, clear, and full of that beautiful feathered charm. Lightning bolts of joy again. I was just buzzing.

A soft breeze drifted by, and with it came the gentle scent of nearby blossoms. So I shifted gears and turned my lens toward the flowers. First up, the showstopper: an ornamental pear tree in full bloom, each delicate white blossom reaching for the sun.

Did You Know? Ornamental pear blossoms might look delicate, but these trees are spring warriors! Bursting into bloom before their leaves even appear, they cover branches in a cloud of white flowers that not only dazzle the eye but also feed early pollinators like bees. While the blossoms don’t produce edible fruit, they more than make up for it with their show-stopping beauty and ability to thrive in urban environments. A true symbol of resilience and renewal.

At its feet, tiny daisies and dandelions held their ground like miniature suns and moons, feeding bees and bugs that made the whole space hum with life.

Did You Know? While many humans see dandelions as pesky weeds, the natural world sees them as VIPs. These bright yellow blooms are among the first flowers to bloom in spring, offering a critical early food source for bees, butterflies, and other pollinators when little else is available. Their deep roots help aerate compact soil and pull nutrients up to the surface, benefiting nearby plants. To wildlife, dandelions aren’t invaders—they’re lifelines.

And then—a bunny! Wild and wide-eyed, he froze the moment we spotted each other. He didn’t run, just held perfectly still with a solid side-eye that said “Um, excuse me?” I couldn’t tell if he was thinking, “Lady, I’m just trying to snack here,” or “What are you?”

Either way, his little nose twitched back and forth like he was trying to make sense of me. We had a moment—two curious creatures sharing space—and I was honored. I thanked him and moved along. Remember - always keep a respectful distance. Thank goodness for my 600mm lens!

Back among the trees, a Chestnut-backed Chickadee chattered away with his friends, hopping branches like I wasn’t even there.

Then I heard them—Towhees, several of them, rustling in the nearby grass. One in particular was digging around for bugs, completely unbothered by me. That’s something I’ve learned: if I stop and just be, the birds that scatter tend to come back. So I perched myself on a nearby picnic bench and simply observed.

Most birds were up high, moving too fast, but then—out of nowhere—a White-crowned Sparrow landed in perfect view. He perched himself on a dirt pile, practically posing. I swear he looked at me like, “Okay, I’m ready now.” He even tucked one foot into his feathers and stood on the other like a little yogi model saying, “Which side is my best?” I snapped a few photos, grinning ear to ear, and thanked him too.

On my way back to the car, I spotted one last surprise—another Anna’s Hummingbird perched high on a branch, sunning himself, feathers shimmering like rubies and emeralds. Watching over his kingdom with pride.

It was already an incredible day... but I wasn’t done yet.

On the way out of the park, I spotted a Tree Swallow perched near a nesting box. I pulled off the road to observe, giving myself a moment to pause. While waiting for the swallow to return, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths—breathing in the warmth of the sun and the peace of the moment. When I opened them, I noticed some small bugs on the nearby plants. I didn’t have the right lens for macro, but I didn’t let that stop me. I snapped a few photos anyway, and later learned they were robber flies—the stealthy aerial hunters of the insect world.

They may look like chill bugs just hanging out on the grass, but robber flies are actually the stealthy ninjas of the insect world. Nicknamed “insect assassins,” they snatch prey mid-air, inject it with paralyzing saliva, and turn it into a bug smoothie. Hardcore, right? But on this warm day, they were just swaying in the breeze—taking a break from their action-hero lifestyle.

It made me think—maybe these flies aren’t foes after all. Maybe they’re quiet little allies, hanging out in the grass, taking down the bugs that would bite me. Sure, they’ve got that fierce reputation, but maybe they’re just misunderstood protectors, doing their part in the balance of things. Friends in disguise, with wings and attitude.

To wrap up the day, I made one final stop to check on the heron nests before the trees fully leaf out. But as I looked up into the sky, I quickly realized… the herons were out to lunch. Literally. Not a single one in sight.

So, I turned my focus to what was below me.

The gravel path wound through a quiet area scattered with sun-warmed logs—the perfect spot for lizards to bask. As I walked closer, they scattered in every direction—dozens of them, in all shapes and sizes, like tiny dragons darting between shadows. But a few stayed. And a few, to my surprise, came back.

Some were brave. Some were curious. A few even posed, turning their heads just so, locking eyes with me for a second like they were sizing me up. I watched them and couldn’t help but wonder—what were they thinking?

Here they were, just living their lives, sunbathing on a spring afternoon, when a giant stranger wandered into their world. And yet… they didn’t respond with hostility. After their initial startle, they came back. They watched. They accepted me, just enough.

Did You Know? Common Wall Lizards aren’t actually native to British Columbia—they were introduced decades ago, likely as escapees from the pet trade. But they’ve adapted impressively, especially in sunny urban areas where warm rocks, logs, and concrete walls create the perfect sunbathing spots. While some worry about their impact on local ecosystems, these little reptiles spend most of their time eating insects—making them unexpected garden allies. With their twitchy tails and curious glances, they’re like tiny sun-powered sentinels of the sidewalk.

It made me think. There’s a lesson there—for all of us. Maybe instead of dominating, disrupting, or fearing the things we don’t understand, we can learn to observe. To respect. To live in harmony with the other lives around us. Because even the tiniest lizards on a quiet path have something to teach, if we’re willing to slow down and listen.

After a day spent with birds, bugs, blossoms, and little lizards, I felt lighter—like nature had quietly untangled the knots in my mind. There’s something deeply healing about slowing down, paying attention, and simply being present with the wild world. It's a reminder that even on the toughest days, the natural world offers a kind of quiet medicine—no prescriptions needed.