In many ancient tales, birds are used as messengers. They bridge prehistoric time and the present day as dinosaur descendants. There are theories that music â€” birdsong perhaps â€” precedes spoken language. Some birds hold funerals for members of their flocks. I marvel at their lightness and tenacity, many migrating thousands of miles and back just to survive using ancient rhythms. I feed them to attract their songs; I leave dog hair brushed from a coat for nest lining; I collect feathers I find and keep them like treasure.
By photographing an abandoned nest and the young robin that collided with my car, I hoped to capture that meditative space between dusk and darkness, to remember origins and endings, and give more than a passing nod to echoing histories between species.