The old Sycamore tree & its birds

A small bird, close to the trunk, searching crevices in the bark for its secreted food cache.

It was an Autumn evening; the breeze rustled the leaves.  I stopped and watched and in that moment some sense overcame me – not just the bird’s presence, but its intention.

It flew to a branch and then scuttled down headfirst in a spiral, seeking insects in the crevices.

That moment became Nuthatch, a soapstone sculpture, simple in form, acrobatic in pose, with tail balancing upright.

In the workshop I carved quickly, with urgency.  The feeling was still fresh.  The wildness still in my body.

The bird reminded me how essential its behaviour was, and that there was great beauty in this singularity.  The intensity was enlivening, and the encounter left me with a sense of precariously belonging in nature.

If you’ve ever felt protective of something tender, you’ll understand the energy behind this piece.