Birds come to me: A bird arrives, remains for a time, and leaves. A nest appears outside my door. Eggs become fledglings in a matter of weeks. The grid of daily images compresses an entire cycle into a single field of vision. What appears to be an ending—an empty nest—is actually a beginning. An encounter with a bird that is no longer alive allows me to observe it closely, not to document death, but to marvel at, and honor, something that will soon be gone.