I have been stuck at home (as most of us are) for over a month now. No in-person interaction, just the blank walls, and stillness of the nothingness that surrounds me. I think of stories to write and situations to talk about. I learn new facts that have no real-world application but are interesting nonetheless. I get excited about topics but have no one to share them with. The only respite I have is the occasional conversation with my spouse. Still, those are brief and generally about housekeeping and such. Since she is working twelve-hour shifts, six days a week, there is little time. So after my workday is over, I watch Netflix or Amazon Prime, Hulu, or our stash of films still regulated to Blu-Ray. It has become what I imagine a white-collar prison would be. But worse. At least in prison, there are guards to talk to and other inmates. Here, at home, there isn't even that luxury.

As I sat outside this week, something interesting happened. The sun was pretty warm, and the neighborhood birds began to make themselves heard. Not just like "hey, I am here," more like "HEY! YOU SITTING THERE! PAY ATTENTION!" It got loud. I suppose spring has finally riled them up, and for once, I am around to hear the community of feathered rabble-rousers.

While not strange, what was weird is that I noticed this little male Cardinal watching me. I said, hello. He stared at me. Then he really stared at me. I could tell he was concentrating hard. He didn't look at me like a dog, cat, or a human, he used just one eye as birds do. But for some reason, I knew he was studying me more than any other native Arkansas bird had ever before. I am sure that you have been stared at by the exotic birds. They lock on you and track your movements. That was this Cardinal, but for some reason, I could feel the intensity of his stare. I looked at him in return with what I felt was the same intensity, and he bounced off into the trees. While interesting, it seemed to be a "one-off," and I moved about my day.

Until he returned. This time he was sitting in one of the trees that are near my front porch. Further away, but still glaring at me intently. I looked his way, and again he fluttered away. I thought, "ok... this is kind of fun." Admittedly, I was super bored, and the thought of being attractive to a wild Cardinal was intriguing. But he left again, and that should have been the end of it. It wasn't.

I went inside for a while. I did some research into cameras, gear, and filmmaking but became restless once again. So I returned to the sunlight. After just a few moments outside, I realized that my crimson friend had returned. Not just hanging around a few feet out of arm's length, but almost sitting on my foot! This courageous little bird and his exuberant curiosity have landed him at my feet. We stare at each other for a moment, his demeanor seems calm.

I speak to him and smile. "Hello, my little friend." His little head snaps up, then down, then back up again. There is a small moment where I think he is deciding if we are to be friends. Then he flies away, back into the trees and shrubs that he calls home.

I immediately called my wife. I had to tell someone about this little encounter. She is amused but not overly so. After all, her life has not gotten quieter; it is exponentially louder with the long days and tighter security where she works. To her, this thing that is happening is only mildly entertaining. To me, it's like the circus came to town and set up in my front yard. I guess it is all about perception, now isn't it.

I now have to document what's happening. I am a photographer, after all. I run into the house and get my camera and tripod. I get the longest lens I own, and I set up in the driveway, pointing my camera towards the front porch, and I wait. And wait. And wait. It seems that my friendly Crimson wrapped feathered friend has decided we aren't really made to be friends after all. It wasn't meant to be, I suppose, for the lives of humans and that of wild songbirds are much too distant to for a connection any deeper than observing one another.

Believing that I just wasted precious energy setting up my camera for breathtaking pictures of man and Cardinal forming a mind-blowing friendship perfect for Instagram or a Twitter firestorm, I do what I always do. I made the best of it. You see, I have this furry wanderer that lives in my yard. He didn't ask permission to live here, but here he lives, nonetheless. We call him Freddie, and he likes to do what cats are want to do.

So I turned my camera on him. Because I was bored, I made this little film that I call "The Cat." Please watch and enjoy.