Blinking.

All morning and afternoon and evening I sat with my laptop and marked short essays I've been holding for some time now, and from time to time, as the sun came over the top of the apartment and started shining in on me at my red desk, a nuthatch came fluppering down onto the sill to select another seed and then whuffle off to a nearby tree to eat it.  But for some reason, on one pass late in the afternoon, he just sat on the sill, seed in beak, blinking and blinking and resting, calm enough that even when I slipped away from the desk to get my camera from the other room, and even when I slipped back toward the window, he kept pausing, kept blinking.  The weather having been warm enough this morning to prompt me to take the plastic film off of the living room window, I was able to use my macro lens to good effect before my small companion decided to resume his back-and-forth seeding.