Today was one of those days. The kind where your brain doesn’t slow down, where everything from work piles up and your chest feels a little too tight. By the end of the day, I knew I needed to do something—anything—to quiet the noise in my mind and reconnect with myself.
Luckily, the first warm and sunny day of spring was waiting for me outside. I grabbed my camera and headed out in search of urban wildlife, hoping the natural world would do what it often does: ground me. The first two spots I tried were quiet—eerily so. Not a feather or flicker in sight. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I headed to a local city park known for its nesting herons. I figured if anyone would show up, it would be them. And I was right.
Before I even reached the heron trees, a flash of orange caught my eye. At first, I thought it was a leaf drifting down, but then I noticed the flutter. It was a Comma Butterfly—vibrant and alive, landing gently on a nearby rock just long enough for me to grab a shot. Isn’t he gorgeous?
Did you know? The Comma Butterfly gets its name from a tiny white marking on the underside of its wings that looks just like a comma! When its wings are closed, it looks almost exactly like a dead leaf, which helps it hide from predators. Talk about nature's camouflage expert. And fun fact: these butterflies hibernate through the winter and are often one of the first butterflies to appear in early spring—so spotting one today felt like a little seasonal celebration.
Further down the path, a dark-eyed junco was chirping away in the underbrush. He was elusive, flitting through the branches, but I finally got a photo. He even gave me a cheeky little “whatcha doin’?” look. Completely adorable.
Then came the golden-crowned sparrow, with his unmistakable yellow crown shining bright in the sunlight. He was foraging on the forest floor, completely focused and unbothered by my presence—another quiet joy to witness.
Naturally, he struck a pose… and then turned around like, “Here’s the angle you really wanted.” Wildlife humor is unmatched.
Signs of spring were everywhere—daffodils and hyacinths bloomed across the park, their colors popping up like little exclamations of hope. I took a deep breath. I could feel myself starting to soften.
When I finally reached the heron nesting area, I watched as a few determined males flew from tree to tree, collecting sticks for their mates. There’s something so beautiful about that—watching these birds work together, instinctively building their future, one twig at a time.
Some landed in different trees, doing that classic heron head tilt—as if to say, “Hmm… not that one. Too flimsy.
Contemplating....
Did You Know? Great Blue Herons are master builders when it comes to nesting. The males usually collect the sticks, while the females arrange them into a sturdy platform high up in the trees. And here's the cool part—herons often return to the same nesting colony year after year, adding more material to their nests each spring. Some nests can get so big they’re over three feet wide and just as deep! These birds are also incredibly graceful in flight, with a wingspan that can reach up to six feet—yet somehow they land in treetops with the elegance of a ballerina.
And then, of course, Indy. My old friend. I initially had identified him as a Indian Runner Duck but I have recently found out I was mistaken, he is in fact a Cayuga Duck. They are very similar so it's easy to see how I got them confused. He was paddling through the pond, looking expectantly for seed. I paid the portrait fee, as always. Indy never disappoints.
To top it all off, a group of turtles and a couple of mergansers were stretched out along a log, soaking in the sun like seasoned professionals. That’s when it hit me—nature doesn’t rush. It just is. And sometimes, being still and warm and together is more than enough.
As I left the park, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the path. My mind was still full—but not in the same way it was when I started. The noise had quieted. The tension had softened.
There’s something about nature that meets me exactly where I am. It doesn’t rush me or ask anything of me. It just is—offering beauty, small wonders, and the steady rhythm of life carrying on. And in those moments—watching a butterfly land like a leaf, listening to a sparrow sing, or seeing a heron return with one more twig—I remember how to breathe again. Nature doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me what I need most on the hardest days: space to feel, and permission to just be.
A wonderful trip through nature.
The best one yet.