Lesser Goldfinch in Perfect Light

Some birds you chase for the drama. This one I chased for the light. The Lesser Goldfinch is the smallest finch in North America — a tiny bird, hardly bigger than the flowers it feeds on — and on the right morning, in the right light, it turns into a little piece of stained glass.

Out here in the West we get the green-backed form, and this one is a male: lemon-yellow underneath, a soft olive-green back, and a glossy black cap pulled down over the forehead. They are seed specialists, drawn to thistle and dandelion and sunflower, and they’ll work a patch of flower heads with a patience that belies how restless they usually are.

For such a small bird, the Lesser Goldfinch carries an enormous voice. The males are gifted mimics, stitching snippets of other birds’ songs into a sweet, wheezy, run-on warble that seems far too big for the body producing it. Once you learn it, you start hearing them everywhere — in gardens, along trails, wherever seed heads are ripening.

And sometimes the background does you a favor. A wash of purple flowers behind that yellow body, the whole scene lit soft and clean — and you stop worrying about the species list and just take the picture. Mornings like this are why I carry the camera.