I have a huge smile on my face. You’re speaking my language. And Steve’s. Thank you. Superb photos and an absolutely delightful series of words and meetings. Thank you!
Hi Beth, Thank you. There's something about those owls that makes everything else fall away—the cold, the small talk anxiety, all of it. Just two people watching something beautiful together. I'm glad it resonated with you.
What a wonderful story about friendship. “Conditions look good, I am heading out to see the owls this afternoon. Do you want to join me?” The best pick up line whether for a romantic date or a meet up with a new buddy. The tenderness of the two of you giving your self space and time to form a connection is moving. As an introvert by nature and a functioning extrovert in my work environment, I totally understand your marvel of your wife's gift for getting to know someone quickly.
That line really does work, doesn't it? "Conditions look good"—it's an invitation that respects autonomy while also saying "I want you there." And yes, watching Mercy operate is genuinely impressive to me. She can learn someone's life story while I'm still working up to asking what kind of camera they use. But I think there's something valuable in the slower way too—the friendship that accumulates through shared silence and cold feet has its own kind of intimacy. Thanks for seeing that tenderness in it.
“Their flight stitches our world together.” Such a beautiful description of the bonds we find with these crazy bird chasers/nature dreamers we find out there. Thank you.
Thank you. I keep coming back to that image—the way the owls move between us and the landscape, weaving it all into something coherent. We wouldn't have stood in 20-degree weather without them. They gave us permission to be uncomfortable together, which is maybe where real friendship starts.
That means a lot, thank you. I hope your nephew recognizes himself in it—there are a lot of us out there in the cold with our cameras, quietly building friendships one shared sighting at a time.
Ha! That made me laugh. Every introvert needs an extrovert to occasionally drag information out of people—or at least provide entertainment while we recover from the social exertion. Poor Steve didn't know what hit him, but I think he survived.
Hello Kimberly, That's incredibly generous, thank you. I think what gives me hope is how simple it actually is—just paying attention to something beautiful together, being willing to stand in the cold when someone extends an invitation. If that's enough to build friendship, maybe we're doing better than we think.
Suzanne, that's such a generous reading. "Ice crystals refracting empathy"—yes, exactly that. There's something about standing in the cold that slows everything down, makes every word cost something, so you only say what matters. Thank you for seeing it.
Thanks. It's not that extroverts are overwhelming in a bad way—it's just a different frequency, you know? Mercy can build connection in two minutes that might take me two weeks. Both ways work, they just feel different. Steve and I needed those quiet weeks to get comfortable, but I was genuinely impressed watching her operate.
Yeah, I’m on the extrovert side, my wife definitely on the introvert side. I used to try to hurry her along, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t work. As an extrovert, I need to stay attuned to the signals that I’m running too hot for some people.
I love this so much, the rhythm of the lenses, the quiet, because photography is a quiet pursuit at its best. I also have to share that when my eyes passed over this phrase, introverts treading lightly, I first read it as introverts reading light. Sometimes our brains insert wonderful things around the edges of what we’re seeing! I also love the extrovert flurry of information gathering. The photos are beautiful and it’s clear this friendship is bringing joy to you both. I can feel the quiet and the potency of sharing experiences of beauty without many words. This feels like a solstice gift a little early! Thank you.
Billie, "introverts reading light" is absolutely perfect—that's exactly what we were doing out there. Reading the layers in the sky, reading the owls' flight patterns, reading each other's comfort levels in the silence. Your brain gave you the better phrase! And yes, it does feel like a solstice gift—that supermoon rising, the year's darkness deepening, two people learning to be quiet together in the cold. Thank you for such a thoughtful reading.
A friendship born in colors. The sky always reminds us to remember to zoom out ,while we are focusing in.
I love that you noticed certain individuals tune in ( or out) at different speeds , maybe like the old record players, 33 or 45 rpm.
I thought I would take a short dive into AI mode, because I have no clue;
“Playing a 45 at 33 RPM will sound unnaturally slow and deep, while playing a 33 at 45 RPM will sound high-pitched and sped up.”
Maybe humans are similar. I wonder about birds ?Lovely post , Bill . Warmest wishes and good tidings of the season; joy, peace,love, sleep, birds, and magnificent skies.
What a beautiful extension of the idea—yes, we're all spinning at different speeds, and when you try to force the match, everything sounds wrong. But standing in that field, Steve and I found our shared tempo. The sky did the zooming out for us while we focused in on individual owls, individual cloud ribbons, the specific ache in our frozen feet. As for birds—I think they operate at their own RPM entirely, something faster and more efficient than our human frequencies. Maybe that's part of why watching them is so compelling. Warmest wishes to you too—may your winter be full of good light and the right people to share it with.
loved this essay of new friendship..the owls and the season are perfect compliments to you and Steve and the time you spent together. Reminds me just how valuable birds are to our well-being.
Thank you. You're right—the owls gave us something bigger than ourselves to attend to, which paradoxically made it easier to be ourselves with each other. Without them, we're just two awkward guys standing in a frozen field. With them, we're part of something worth enduring discomfort for. Birds create these openings for connection we might not find otherwise.
I have a huge smile on my face. You’re speaking my language. And Steve’s. Thank you. Superb photos and an absolutely delightful series of words and meetings. Thank you!
Hi Beth, Thank you. There's something about those owls that makes everything else fall away—the cold, the small talk anxiety, all of it. Just two people watching something beautiful together. I'm glad it resonated with you.
What a wonderful story about friendship. “Conditions look good, I am heading out to see the owls this afternoon. Do you want to join me?” The best pick up line whether for a romantic date or a meet up with a new buddy. The tenderness of the two of you giving your self space and time to form a connection is moving. As an introvert by nature and a functioning extrovert in my work environment, I totally understand your marvel of your wife's gift for getting to know someone quickly.
That line really does work, doesn't it? "Conditions look good"—it's an invitation that respects autonomy while also saying "I want you there." And yes, watching Mercy operate is genuinely impressive to me. She can learn someone's life story while I'm still working up to asking what kind of camera they use. But I think there's something valuable in the slower way too—the friendship that accumulates through shared silence and cold feet has its own kind of intimacy. Thanks for seeing that tenderness in it.
“Their flight stitches our world together.” Such a beautiful description of the bonds we find with these crazy bird chasers/nature dreamers we find out there. Thank you.
Thank you. I keep coming back to that image—the way the owls move between us and the landscape, weaving it all into something coherent. We wouldn't have stood in 20-degree weather without them. They gave us permission to be uncomfortable together, which is maybe where real friendship starts.
This stunningly photographed article is a treasure. I sent it to my introverted, bird photographer nephew.
That means a lot, thank you. I hope your nephew recognizes himself in it—there are a lot of us out there in the cold with our cameras, quietly building friendships one shared sighting at a time.
So accurate except my extroverted husband would have turned the conversation back to himself somehow lol
Ha! That made me laugh. Every introvert needs an extrovert to occasionally drag information out of people—or at least provide entertainment while we recover from the social exertion. Poor Steve didn't know what hit him, but I think he survived.
I save so many of your essays to re-read. This is another one. Thank you.
That's one of the kindest things you can say to a writer. Thank you for letting me know.
My faith in humanity is restored every time I read you.
Hello Kimberly, That's incredibly generous, thank you. I think what gives me hope is how simple it actually is—just paying attention to something beautiful together, being willing to stand in the cold when someone extends an invitation. If that's enough to build friendship, maybe we're doing better than we think.
Quintessential midwestern reserve - I could hear the pregnant pauses in the cold air like ice crystals refracting empathy on your breath. So you.
Suzanne, that's such a generous reading. "Ice crystals refracting empathy"—yes, exactly that. There's something about standing in the cold that slows everything down, makes every word cost something, so you only say what matters. Thank you for seeing it.
That was really beautiful. I hadn’t thought about how overwhelming an extrovert can be to an introvert, but you captured it well.
Thanks. It's not that extroverts are overwhelming in a bad way—it's just a different frequency, you know? Mercy can build connection in two minutes that might take me two weeks. Both ways work, they just feel different. Steve and I needed those quiet weeks to get comfortable, but I was genuinely impressed watching her operate.
Yeah, I’m on the extrovert side, my wife definitely on the introvert side. I used to try to hurry her along, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t work. As an extrovert, I need to stay attuned to the signals that I’m running too hot for some people.
I love this so much, the rhythm of the lenses, the quiet, because photography is a quiet pursuit at its best. I also have to share that when my eyes passed over this phrase, introverts treading lightly, I first read it as introverts reading light. Sometimes our brains insert wonderful things around the edges of what we’re seeing! I also love the extrovert flurry of information gathering. The photos are beautiful and it’s clear this friendship is bringing joy to you both. I can feel the quiet and the potency of sharing experiences of beauty without many words. This feels like a solstice gift a little early! Thank you.
Billie, "introverts reading light" is absolutely perfect—that's exactly what we were doing out there. Reading the layers in the sky, reading the owls' flight patterns, reading each other's comfort levels in the silence. Your brain gave you the better phrase! And yes, it does feel like a solstice gift—that supermoon rising, the year's darkness deepening, two people learning to be quiet together in the cold. Thank you for such a thoughtful reading.
A friendship born in colors. The sky always reminds us to remember to zoom out ,while we are focusing in.
I love that you noticed certain individuals tune in ( or out) at different speeds , maybe like the old record players, 33 or 45 rpm.
I thought I would take a short dive into AI mode, because I have no clue;
“Playing a 45 at 33 RPM will sound unnaturally slow and deep, while playing a 33 at 45 RPM will sound high-pitched and sped up.”
Maybe humans are similar. I wonder about birds ?Lovely post , Bill . Warmest wishes and good tidings of the season; joy, peace,love, sleep, birds, and magnificent skies.
What a beautiful extension of the idea—yes, we're all spinning at different speeds, and when you try to force the match, everything sounds wrong. But standing in that field, Steve and I found our shared tempo. The sky did the zooming out for us while we focused in on individual owls, individual cloud ribbons, the specific ache in our frozen feet. As for birds—I think they operate at their own RPM entirely, something faster and more efficient than our human frequencies. Maybe that's part of why watching them is so compelling. Warmest wishes to you too—may your winter be full of good light and the right people to share it with.
Great essay, excellent build up to the last two delightful paragraphs that made me laugh out loud. Thank you for sharing.
loved this essay of new friendship..the owls and the season are perfect compliments to you and Steve and the time you spent together. Reminds me just how valuable birds are to our well-being.
Thank you. You're right—the owls gave us something bigger than ourselves to attend to, which paradoxically made it easier to be ourselves with each other. Without them, we're just two awkward guys standing in a frozen field. With them, we're part of something worth enduring discomfort for. Birds create these openings for connection we might not find otherwise.
I’m struck by how much of this piece is about staying present without being explained —
letting attention do the work instead of language.
I saw that moon and called a few friends to go outside to see it. It was amazing!
How funny. My wife always accuses me of never asking the girl's questions...