Forty years ago I drew a Greenfinch. It may have been from a photograph or it may have been from a stuffed specimen I studied at my local museum. I was thirteen years old. I was never happy with it. Maybe there’s something wrong with its feet. Maybe there’s something wrong with its pose. Maybe it had just been really badly stuffed. Here it is:
Today I’m in the woods and I see a the familiar flash of green and gold:
They look more alive than that old stuffed specimen did.