“What is it? What is it? What is it?” The little girl’s song almost overshadowed that of the bird’s. Her mother, a bit exasperated perhaps, snapped, “It’s a bird!” The little girl’s tune changed. “Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?” As the mother took a deep breath, I stepped forward and knelt down. “Do you want to see it?” She nodded and so I showed her the bird on my camera. I zoomed in too, and she said, “Ooooh! It’s furry!” “Nope, just little feathers,” I corrected. She squinted at me. “But where is it in the tree?!” I stood up and said, “Follow my finger.” And she did, and she was just barely able to make out the bird in the branches that had continued to sing heartily the whole time we were staring down at the camera.
