Neil stepped by the unpaved road and tried to focus his lens on a purple martin. He liked how the sun brightened its glossy dark purple plumage against the faded blue of the sky. The bird was sitting at a high branch of a shrub. He was half an hour into the Bog, walking, taking pictures, and listening to an audio book through his iPod. This was the first time he got a clear shot at a purple martin inside the bog at reasonably close range. This bird seemed to be resting, so Neil took time to take a number of shots, using his newfound zoon lens attached to his camera. He had taken the trouble of carrying his tripod. This made his gear more cumbersome, but ensured that a higher percentage of his pictures will be sharp.

He was alone. Mabel, his almost constant companion for the past few weeks, had left for the weekend, to spend with her folks up north.

Things were happening in Neil’s personal life at an accelerated pace. For many years, he had been a lone ranger. He had been living an isolated life, segregated from the community around him. His involvement was with the land, and its flora and fauna. But when it came to humans, Neil was more at ease by himself. At work, he was friendly and popular. But he separated his work from his personal life.

And now, his personal life was undergoing change. And Mabel had been the primary cause.

Neil balanced his tripod mounted camera on is shoulder and moved on. He had never ween a green heron in these parts. When he moved to British Columbia from Florida, he did not know much about bogs. But he learned how unique bogs were, and how unique Burns Bog was even among bogs. He had learned that the bog had been drained by main, and its vegetation and character had changed since then.

Stepping off the gravel road, he knelt at a shiny leaf on the ground – pond lilly growing among moss. He took his second camera, mounted with a 100mm macro lens, and focussed on the round leaf of the lilly, and the radially spreading veins. Sun reflected off its shiny surface. It was lovely.

Neil did not have any specific plans on what to do with the pictures he took. He was an amateur admirer of nature and wild life, and liked taking pictures. But he did not publish them anywhere and was not planning to.

His thoughts drifted to Mabel and at what phase their relationship was. Was it an affair ?

Neither of them had called it an affair as such. They had not engaged in any serious talk about going steady or moving in together. But, they had slept together on two weekends in the past month. The first time, it had been somewhat spontaneous. But ha planned it the next time. They went for a movie, a dinner, and then she spent the night at his place.

He was still a bit bothered about the fact that she was fourteen years his junior. Also, he was technically a Hindu, although he did not believe in it much. She was a Christian, a protestant, and from the Anglican Church of Canada. He had little idea what that meant. But she too was not serious about religion. They did not talk much about differences in their faith. But Neil had told her about his doubts about all organized religions. He considered them as a kind of a business  and and gave a lot of power to a few men, but otherwise had little to do with either God or spirituality. She knew his views from casual comments he made in the past on the topic, in bits and pieces. But he was a tolerant person and got along well with religious folks. He did not try to impose his views on others, and did not judge folks that felt otherwise.

Thus, just as Neil was trying to adjust to this new situation in his life with regard to Mabel, and wondering if things were not moving a bit fast – they had sort of decided to give each other some space.

Mabel had perhaps sensed that their differences were still bothering Neil a bit. She suggested giving each other space, and not allowing the relationship to become stifling to either. Neil, at thirty four, was pretty well set by now in leading a solitary life in his personal space.

So, Mabel had planned to be away in the next two weekends. She also mentioned she might go out with other friends for movies and parties time to time, where he might not like to come. Same time, she hinted that he might like to mix with other womenfolk. This might give him time to settle his thoughts and sort his feelings out.

Neil got the impression that Mabel was doing it for him. She was happy as it is, having an affair with him and settling down to a steady relationship. At least that is what she seemed to imply. She still needed her own life and her own circle of friends. However, she understood that this was sudden for Neil and he was still not sure about hitching up with a woman so much younger.

Mabel was even willing to introduce him in the single’s circuit, whatever that meant. Mabel laughed about it, and said there were a whole list of females she knew that’d love to settle down with a nice boy with a good job and a serious attitude to life. But good guys were hard to find. She told him that he had charm he did not even know about, even if he did not understand hockey and could not ski, and did not get roaring drunk in new year.

Neil smiled, thinking about it, and then stopped. He was a barred owl on a pine tree at the road side ahead of him. The owl was watching him. He sensed that if he took a few more steps forward, it would fly away. He stood still for a moment, then slowly eased his tripod off his shoulder and on the ground. He switched the camera on and removed the lens cap, turning it to point at the bird. Looking through the view finder, he squeezed off a shot at the bird. The bird continued to watch him. It was large, and clear bars on its chest and belly. He knew barred owls were not common in British Columbia a generation ago, and had move up from the US only in the last few decades. He did not know if that was due to climate change or global warming.

He changed to setting of the camera to continuous rapid shots, rechecked the bird, and pressed the shutter button, taking a series of five or six rapid shots.

The bird leaned forward and tensed itself. Neil sensed it was going to fly away. He pressed the shutter just as the bird launched itself into the air and flew silently, taking a turn around the trunk of the tree and seeking a higher branch of a tree not too far away. It settled itself, facing away from him, and stopped paying him any attention.

Well, the lighting was okay. Neil thought he had perhaps a couple of good shots of the bird. He was happy not to have stressed the bird unduly. It was too low on a branch for a passing human. But now, a bit higher up, it did not need to feel as if the man was violating its personal space.

We all need our personal space – Neil thought. But same time, he was sort of missing Mabel already. It would have been so much nicer if she was with him today. She had a charming way about her.

Time and space. Neil remembered the science books he read in his school days – ‘Of time, space, and other things’ by Isaac Asimov, and 1-2-3 infinity, by George Gamow. Those were likely the first set of books that, other than Einstein’s relativity, helped him understand how the universe worked.

And here he was, almost twenty years down the line – protecting time and space around himself, and providing same around Mabel, but on a different context.

He walked past the tree with the owl on it. It watched him, but did not budge. He had seen this owl on different locations around Vancouver. Often, crows would gang up on it and attempt to drive it away. He had even seen a crow execute mock attacks and dive bombing on hawks, to drive them away from nesting grounds for itself, thereby also saving other smaller passerines. He had been lucky to catch a few of those moments on his camera.

He was underneath 72nd Avenue and moved towards the river end, stopping to watch a rabbit vanish in the undergrowth ahead of him. He knew there were deer and black bears in the bog area, but had never seen any up close. He had noticed a group of white tailed deers from the road once, driving to work alongside the bog. The traffic had slowed down and everyone was taking a look at the animals, who seemed happy browsing on the lush grass by the road side.

HE thought of sending a message to Mabel. She was not on internet that much, but used her phone for messaging. He considered sending her a short ‘whats up’ note, then thought against it. Let her enjoy herself with her folks.

He had not told any of his folks about Mabel. There were not many folks left, for that matter, back in India. And he did not have any relative close enough in North America or any place else. IN short, he had nobody to send any note to. He had no elder left among his relatives. No uncle, no aunt and no parents. It was a terrible feeling. He did have elder cousins back in India. But he was not that intimate with them to share his personal life with.

Neil often felt all alone, but not necessarily in a bad way. His mother, in her late years, used to contemplate on the purpose of life, and the fact that, at the end of the day, every one was alone. She had a gift of writing penetrating thoughts, and maintained a diary. Neil had gotten hold of it after his mother passed away. There, in the late years of her life, she often questions why a human comes to life, and why he or she goes, and what is the ultimate purpose of existence, for the individual and the species. She even wrote poems that reflected an introspective mind. She was not necessarily bitter, but more importantly, contemplative and introspective. Perhaps Neil had inherited a bit of that.

And here he was, walking among pebbles and pieces of concrete broken from a floor of some construction a long time ago. The construction is no more, but the bricks and cement has remained here and there. People used to mine the peat as fuel. Effort was on to let the bog recover from that.

Burns bog was a very large raised or dome bog, unique on the planet by its unusual construction as well as huge size. It was four or five times the size of Stanley Park. It originated from shallow depressions on the ground where water was trapped and could not escape. Into it certain plants and more importantly certain kinds of moss lived and died, and the stagnant water helped create the peat bog over time. It was also the source of a lot of fires, from the stored fuel as well as methane. The water turned acidic and anaerobic, not supporting much fish, but it did support a huge number of plants, birds and animals. Scientists believed that the bog also played an important role in climate control of the area.

Neil had stood at some spots and tried to jump, feeling under his feet how the ground compressed and expanded. It was as if he was standing on several feet of rubber.

He did not know how long it took for nature to build the peat bog, but suspected it would be a few thousand years and perhaps no more. That was because much of the land in Delta was under a shallow edge of pacific ocean at the time, and the shoreline more of less ended at Surrvey to the east and Vancouver to the north. The towns of Richmond and Delta were more or less submerged at the time.

Neil stopped and sat on a fallen trunk of a small tree. It was a cool morning, but he was slightly sweating with the exercise. He decided to sit, and soak in the atmosphere a bit.

He had placed the tripod upright on the ground with his first camera mounted on it with a big lens. He sat with the second camera, with a smaller macro lens and looked through it around him. IN his viewfinder, there was movement of bright flashing colors from behind the brush. He kept watching as a pair of humans emerged, speaking with each other. He could hear their soft voices, as well as the sound of their feet on the gravel. A small girl was accompanied by an adult female. The girl had golden hair in a pony tail. The women was peaking a bright parka, and had dark hair curled around her ears. Sun reflected of her hair.

He inadvertently pressed the shutter, and heard the click of the camera. Conscious that he might have done something unethical, he lowered the camera from his eyes, and looked down. He contemplated deleting the image. The sound was getting louder. He looked up. The small girl was watching him somberly. The woman was also looking at him, but had a pleasant expression in her face.

He raised his hand and waved. “Good morning”.

The woman waved back. “Good morning”.

“My name is Neil”, he said, somewhat self consciously.

“Hello Neil”, the woman said. She did not offer her name. The child kept watching him, holding the woman’s hand.

Neil pointed at his camera. “I was looking through the viewfinder when you suddenly emerged from behind that bush. I made a mistake, and clicked. I think I have both of you on it. Did not want to invade your privacy. So, if you like, I shall delete that image”, he smiled apologetically at them.

The woman stopped and watched him for a moment. “I have seen you before. Do you live hear?”

“Yes I do. Barely two hundred yards from the western entrance at westview drive”, he responded. He tried to recollect if he had seen her, and thought he might have. She walked with her daughter on Lyon road at times.

“I think we might be neighbors” the woman nodded. “My name is Karen.”

“Hello Karen”. Neil got up. It appeared impolite for him to be sitting while they stood. “And hello young lady” He waved at the little girl. The child did not reply but smiled faintly at him.

“Can we see the picture? If it is good, perhaps you can email it to me.”

Neil nodded and checked bringing the picture to the display screen at the back of the camera. The picture came out sharp and with a fair contrast with the dark foliage behind them. He walked a few steps to them and showed them the picture. The small girl tugged at his pants. She wanted to see it too. He kneeled down to show her. Karen kneeled too.

The girl wanted to hold the camera, which was a bit heavy. Neil let her hold it, but supported it with his hand.

“Thats a nice picture. Would you like it? “ Karen asked the child. The girl nodded positively.

“Okay, I shall email it if you give me the address.”

“I want to see more pictures”, the girl said.

“No darling. Those are his personal pictures. Its not polite to see them.”

The girl pouted and returned the camera to him. “I have an owl’s picture in the other camera. I saw it a few minutes ago. I can show it in this camera if you like.”

The turned to watch the other camera, still on its tripod. “I want to see the owl”

Karen smiled. “Are you sure its OK?”

“Of course it is ok”.

Neil turned to his tripod mounted camera, and flipped through the images. Karen picked up the girl and came closer. He got to the series where the owl was about to launch into a flight. He cropped the view slightly, enlarging the bird on the screen and showed it to them.

They exclaimed, as he flipped through the series of five pictures, till the bird was fully airborne and turning in the air.

“These are marvellous pictures. Are you a professional photographer ?” Karen asked.

“Naah. Just a hobby”

“Well, its a wonderful hobby.”

Neil smiled and thanked her, pulling out the notebook that he always kept at his hip pocket, and a pencil. Karen gave him her email address.

The girl, down on the ground again, asked ‘Do you have many birds of the camera?”

Neil considered the question. “Well, I have a purple martin from today. I have many more birds and animals pictures, but not in this camera any more. I have them at home in my computer.” He was tempted to say he would be glad to show her the pictures, but refrained from mentioning it. Karen, who was likely her mother, might not approve.

Karen smiled, and surprisingly, extended her hand for a shake. “Well, time to move on. Thanks for the show and for offering to send that picture.”

“Dont mention. Hope to see you again sometime, and especially you, young lady” He turned and smiled at the child. He still did not know her name.

They waved at him, and turned, walking on. Neil got the tripod on his shoulder, his other camera hanging from his neck and started walking in the opposite direction.

He guessed Karen to be closer to thirty. Perhaps a single mother. There were many single mothers in British Columbia, perhaps in Canada. Marriage, as an institution, was not what it used to be a few generations ago. Also, women were often financially independent. He wondered about it all, as he walked on. He intended to spend the next two hours in the bog, before returning home.

Mabel had suggested that he might meet some womenfolk other than herself. Well, he just did, and at least got an email address if not a phone number. Well, that was a start, was it not ?