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It's a horrible picture, I know, but I have a reason.

On a recent walk I heard a bird singing with abandon and I spotted him in a high branch. He sang and sang and appeared to be looking at me. Slowing down and moving closer, I was careful not to make a sound.

I aimed my camera and tried to find him in the stinking lens. He kept singing. The moment was just for him and me. Me at one with nature. Me, a bird whisperer. His concert was for me alone as he patiently waited for me to goof clumsily with the phone to get the shot. Lovely and tranquil.

“DID YOU GET A SHOT OF HIM,” a dog walker asked as she stood next to me. Where she came from I do not know, but I startled, nearly dropped my phone, and I am pretty sure the bird fell out of the tree from the shock of the human, booming voice.

“WHY ARE THE MALES THE BEAUTIFUL ONES,” she thought aloud loudly, then moved on.

The moment was over. The concert unceremoniously ended without an encore.

I usually look for a lesson in these moments, but the best I can come up with is to always be aware of your surroundings, because if she had been a mugger I would have been minus a phone with a lousy lens.

Still I am grateful to that little honey of a bird for his performance for me and it makes me wonder what other treasures I miss in my day because I am moving too fast to notice. There might be concerts all around. I might try to be more attentive for them tomorrow.