On a walk by the lake, a white wagtail kindly agreed to pose.
She perched on a stone with the air of someone who had cleared the shoot through her agent in advance and was now patiently waiting for the photographer to get on with it. Good light, good background, model on set — a rare stroke of luck.
Then another wagtail flew into the frame. At first, they sat side by side as if they had graciously decided to give me a family portrait.
I was already mentally thanking fate for such a gift when the models suddenly launched into a heated discussion of some urgent wagtail business.
The discussion quickly turned into an argument, the argument into a quarrel, and before long one of them made a dramatic exit from the set.
The remaining bird struck her pose again. Only now she looked slightly ruffled, and her intense gaze seemed to say: “Sure, I won — but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
I suspect that, in her view, the person ultimately blamed for the whole affair was none other than me.
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