I took these photographs on March 15th on Oak Grove Avenue in Bath. The ducks were perched over the same cemetery pond where I took the recent Mallard butt shots. The 'pond' is just a wet scrap of swampy land, not really a pond at all. A toddler could wade it without incident. For little more than a mosquito breeding hole, it hosts an amazing diversity of birds and other wildlife. I went by it when I was on my way to meet with my tax preparer. It was raining. That made it difficult to photograph the ducks as it was very dark and dismal, a good day for taxes but not a good day to photograph birds. I had never seen Wood ducks before and so I was nearly trembling. Or, my trembling may have had to do with the taxes. Either way, the photographs are not good, which was very dissapointing to me. I so wanted to share really good Wood duck photographs. I went back five times in two days trying for them again, but for not. To have seen them and only be able to get crumby photos was almost worse than never having seen them at all. I love photography beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but sometimes that thing I love betrays me. I am haunted by Wood duck dreams and will not be quite content ever again until they day I can get some good shots of them. You just wait.
March 15th is "The Ides Of March," the day that Marcus Junius Brutus supposedly killed Julius Caesar in 44 B.C. "Et tu, Brute?" may be one of the most famous three words in the English language and epitomizes the concept of betrayal. As the story goes (historians contest this), and as William Shakespear's play went, that's what Caesar exclaimed to Brutus when he realized Brutus had betrayed him. Caesar was regarded as a mentor by Brutus and they were good buddies - Rome's own "homies." When Caesar came into power in Rome, he got a little carried away with himself and his power. Rather than wanting the Roman senate to rule, he thought he should be the boss all by himself. He even compared himself to the gods, for gods' sake! He thought of himself as an emperor with a big 'E',and had the ego to match. Though Brutus loved him, he loved Rome and freedom more. The day came when the senate attacked old Julius and when they did, Brutus gave him up in an act of betrayal to save Rome. "Even you, Brutus," were The Big J.'s dying words.
When my camera and my skills as a photographer fail me in a moment like when I saw these Wood ducks, I feel betrayed, too. It's my own little Shakespearean tragedy.