This time of year in Georgia, unless it snows (which may happen tomorrow!), the landscape takes on a dull, sere, gray-brown appearance. The eye yearns for splashes of color. Some of the plants oblige with still-green leaves, such as water oaks and greenbriers. For yellows, there are the pine warblers, when one happens to catch a glimpse of one. For purples and reds, there is always the possibility of another sunset. For blues, there is the sky. And, occasionally, there are bluebirds.
This is an accidental photograph; I am not a wildlife photographer. Still, this time of year there is so little changing along Piney Woods Church Road (apart from the weather, that is), that I eagerly photograph anything that moves on wings or feet. Whenever I see a bird perch on a fence (which usually happens when the plus four macro is screwed onto my camera lens, preventing me from zooming until I remove it) I quickly try to take a photo, without really thinking about composition or light or anything but whether or not the bird will fly before I zoom, focus, and snap the shutter. Usually, I get but one image, and rarely two. It is as if the birds know I am trying to photograph them, and dash away. That happened today — I saw a distant bird alight on a barbed wire fence, I zoomed in, took the photo, and the bird flew off. I thought nothing more of it until I returned home, reviewed the photographs on Picasa 3, and discovered my subject was a lone bluebird, against a nearly monochromatic background. Beautiful.
