Visibility can be a good thing (or not) depending on the circumstances. For the large Northern Flicker on the fir tree outside my window seclusion seems to be a priority. He hovers there, checking out conditions at the suet feeder before homing in for breakfast, but whenever I step close to the window he flits away again to wait within the protection of branches until I give him his mealtime privacy. Our Chickadees, on the other hand, are too greedy to care about my presence. Darting back and forth from the swaying birdfeeder, they snatch seedy morsels and settle on the porch railing to chow down directly in front of my window. Should the feeder need refilling, they will flutter indignantly at the glass with noisy reprimands. They’re very visible.
It occurs to me that such birdy behaviour is reminiscent of an author’s dilemma: disliking interruptions as we focus on feeding our creative selves, and yet needing a degree of visibility to get what our resulting creation needs — readers.
So I have arrived, fluttering noisily albeit reluctantly, into the world of weblogs. I have become visible.