Hello world !

For a month, I kept watch over the Tickell’s blue flycatchers nesting in the hollow of a teak root bar stool in our garden. The wait was long, but the vigil was rewarded—with strong new chicks and unforgettable moments.

One morning, the nest could no longer contain them. The hatchlings spilled out—onto a sun-warmed boulder, then to stems and leaves—hesitant at first, but quickly curious. Their wings were unsteady, their balance unsure, yet their eyes were already lit with discovery.

All the while, the parents stayed close, proud and protective, still slipping food into eager beaks. From bar stool hollow to open garden, it was a passage in miniature: the shift from safety to self, captured in frames I’ll always treasure.