Just Snackin’ by Tisha Clinkenbeard
Captured during a quiet morning at Beaver’s Bend State Park, this image documents a charming encounter with a local squirrel. The photographer waited patiently on the cabin balcony, allowing the subject to approach closely enough to reveal its inquisitive personality while munching on a cracker. By focusing on the squirrel's watchful expression, the photographer transformed a simple moment of wildlife interaction into a compelling narrative of nature. The image is award-worthy for its intimate perspective and the technical precision required to isolate the subject against the soft, natural backdrop of the park.
Tisha Clinkenbeard
Based in Powderly, Texas, Tisha Clinkenbeard has cultivated a deep passion for photography that predates the digital era. Her evocative work has been featured in prestigious venues such as The Fine Arts Center of Hot Springs and the Black Box Gallery in Portland, alongside various fine art exhibitions across Texas. Driven by a desire to document the beauty she encounters while wandering the earth, she shares her unique perspective through her photography blog, Found Round & About, and has seen her images recognized in publications like Birds & Blooms.
Resonance Score Breakdown
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Expert Photography Reviews · 6
The Quiet Guest
I was sitting on my back porch this morning with a piece of dry toast, trying to ignore the pile of emails waiting on my laptop. It was one of those mornings where the air feels heavy with things I haven't finished yet.
Read the reflection →The Quiet Communion
There is a rhythm to the wild that we often overlook in our haste to define the world. We categorize, we name, and we measure, forgetting that the creatures sharing our earth are simply living their own quiet, unfolding stories.
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Before the eye identifies the squirrel, something in the chest softens. It’s the sudden, quiet stillness of a shared morning. The cracker crumb caught in those tiny paws triggers a strange, visceral nostalgia for a simpler hunger. I’ve returned to this frame three times today, and each time, the soft blur of the Oklahoma woods pulls my breath into a slower rhythm. It doesn’t demand attention; it just invites you to sit still and exist.
Of the thousands of wildlife shots I’ve reviewed, most are just technical exercises. This one survives because of the squirrel’s grip on that cracker. It’s a small, absurd detail that anchors the frame in a specific, human-adjacent reality. I’ll admit, the sight of it makes me smile every time. It isn’t just a portrait; it’s a tiny, fleeting comedy. Thirty years from now, that specific, messy snack will feel more honest than any polished nature study.
1/30sec at f/5.0, ISO 400, 110mm. A shaky gamble. At 1/30, you’re relying on luck to freeze a twitchy rodent. The P90’s sensor struggles at ISO 400, and it shows in the noise. I’d have pushed the shutter speed higher, even at the cost of grain. It’s technically reckless, yet the focus on the eye is sharp. I’m annoyed by how much I respect that gamble. It’s a thin margin between success and blur.
Waiting on a cabin balcony with a cracker is hardly the expedition of a lifetime, is it? One suspects the squirrel did most of the heavy lifting here. It’s a charming enough snapshot, but I’ve spent weeks in freezing rain for a single frame, and frankly, this doesn’t quite reach that level of commitment. It’s cute, certainly, but I’m left wanting a bit more grit and a lot less snack time.
A cracker. A squirrel. The frame is crowded with the mundane. I’ve spent years looking for the breath between things, but here, the noise is absolute. It’s a snapshot, not a study. I feel a sudden, sharp fatigue. Where is the quiet? The background blur doesn’t offer rest; it only hides the park. Nothing here is accidental, yet nothing is essential. It’s a moment captured, but the silence has been lost in the snack.
The squirrel’s fur, a russet reminiscent of Morandi’s dustier ochres, vibrates against the blurred, verdant bokeh of the Oklahoma woods, a palette that’s less about wildlife and more about the quiet, mossy humidity of a Vermeer interior. It’s a delicate, earthy harmony that I find utterly enchanting. One feels the morning’s dampness in those muted, forest-floor greens, which don’t merely frame the subject but cradle it in a soft, atmospheric embrace that’s quite lovely.