I feed the birds; the birds feed others. I knew this was bound to happen, but was not ready for this result. I came on him already at his meal, a ring of feathers spread across the fresh snow, and for one long second he stopped and looked in my direction. The light was flat and white the way winter light gets this time of year, hard on most things but kind to a bird this striking. I stayed low and quiet and let him decide I wasn't worth leaving dinner over.