on the battlefield [the story of gettysburg] – One bird on the battlefield of Gettysburg was all it took. Not an ordinary bird, granted, but rather a feathered, farmland Siren, beguiling me into a trance, leading me, with my camera, into a precarious slot. And when all was said (“ouch!”) and done (splat), one camera was dead and one lens injured, and I was “over” Gettysburg.

Let me back up if I may.

The day had begun like any other vacation day. I had awoken happy, with a song in my heart, a dance in my step. This day, however, would be different from the previous nine days of my vacation, days which I spent driving around the New England countryside, populating my archives with all things autumnal and foliage-laden. This day I would finally meet my Flickr friend of over four years, Linda Plaisted — a modern-day pen pal, who, by the way, also happens to be my favorite artist – bonus! I drove the short distance from Gettysburg to Maryland and spent an absolutely, positively wonderful few hours chatting and lunching with Linda and her beautiful daughter E. It was definitely a highlight of my already fabulous trip.

So…so far, so good, right?

I had chosen to stay in Gettysburg because I love all things touristy, particularly things with historical significance. Upon returning to the town, I made my way to the Civil War Battlefield area. I knew it would give me chills, and I was very excited about being there and soaking in the solemnity, the history, the quiet.

I arrived and almost instantly had goose bumps. I was standing on the same grounds in the same small town where tens of thousands of soldiers became casualties of war. I thought of the enormous undertaking of this town to recover from such devastation and I thought of the individual stories of families torn apart. Misty eyes were mine as I made my way from monument to monument.

And then I spotted her, a bird, sitting on statue of a soldier — more specifically, sitting on the tip of the soldier’s musket. I found the sight to be particularly moving. Birds are often symbols of peace and sometimes, historically, symbols of protection. The scene was a beautiful disconnect and a beautiful symmetry all at once. I was mesmerized. I snapped a few photos before the bird flew to its next destination – the tip of a canon. There was no option for me, but to follow, to capture this bird as it made its way from weapon to weapon.

Problem was…the bird had 100% of my attention. The road, particularly, the slight ditch in the road…well…that had 0% of my attention. Temporarily, at least. When I fell on the hard pavement (what’s the opposite of “gracefully”?), with cameras in hand, my center of attention quickly transitioned from the former to the latter. I knew immediately I had lost something. I just didn’t know what yet. Turns out, my camera took the brunt. My handy-dandy backup was gone for good.

I chose on the battlefield [the story of gettysburg] because, even though it brought my camera to its knees, the bird still beguiles me. Some cultures believe that a camera is a soul stealer. If they are right, this bird is the great protector. And on that very battlefield, where 51,000 souls were lost, a soul stealer was rendered “out of business.” Thanks to a little bird.