Nasty Bluebird

So there I was, atop Babcock Ridge, my camera in one hand, my homemade parabolic microphone rig in the other. It was about nine on a windy and chilly morning—perfect for walking, not all that great for recording bird songs—but I had high hopes of "capturing" the dry trill of a Worm-eating Warbler, one of the specialties of the Ridge. I'd heard them a few days earlier, but they weren't being cooperative today. There were, however, other species making themselves known, and as I watched an unexpected flash of blue land on a branch not far overhead, I swung my camera in the bird's direction and squeezed off a not-too-good shot. Alas, the Bluebird was too backlit by the sun for the meter to compensate, and it was too peeved by my presence to give me time to override any settings. In an eyeblink, it dove from its perch and made straight for my head! The Blue Defender of, I guess, its home turf, pulled up at the last possible second, but no sooner had it settled on another branch than it repeated the aggression. I got the message and departed, my scalp intact. I cleaned up the exposure problems in post-production.