The little Pine Siskins at The Ranch in Montana were constantly on the move either pecking at the seeds in the feeders, jostling for space on the edges of the pond, or disappearing en masse as they all took flight at the slightest possibility that a predator was in the area. This is one of the rare moments that one took the time to sit still in peaceful repose for what was probably just an instant but it is frozen in time now. It somehow reminds me of a diorama in a natural history museum, its namesake pine muted in the background.