The nightingale on the stinging nettle: a gaze you don't have to hold on to

Some moments shrink the moment you try to hold on to them. I had my camera in my hand when a nightingale landed right in front of me and looked me in the eye. I didn’t press the shutter. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

A railway embankment that never saw a train

Where I lived at the time, there is a railway embankment called the “Strategischer Bahndamm” (strategic railway embankment): built, but never put into service. It was left to itself. The bushes have grown thick, and nightingales love exactly that. A great many have settled there.

I was there often, mostly with a bird photographer. He wanted to get the nightingales in his lens. I wanted something else: I wanted to listen to them. Every nightingale sings differently, inventively, with new twists every time.

The moment in the grass

One day I sat down in the grass in the middle of the path and simply listened. After a while a nightingale landed on a stinging nettle right in front of me. Perhaps two metres lay between us. And it looked straight into my face.

Nightingales have dark brown eyes, very beautiful ones. I have dark brown eyes too. So we sat there looking at each other, for what felt like an eternity.

The camera was in my hand. But I didn’t want to destroy this moment with anything. I was surprised how much this little bird trusted me: it stayed where it was and did not fly away. At some point it glanced to the right, then to the left, and disappeared back into the bushes.

What I took away from it

I have never forgotten the trust I was given there. It showed me something I have carried with me ever since: I am not a threat to another creature. There is a togetherness.

That still gives me security and energy today, for example when I’m with children. When a being trusts you, you feel: I matter, I’m welcome, just as I am.

And one more thing: I could have taken that photo. But if I had raised the camera, I would have gone from being present to holding on. Sometimes the most valuable thing you take from a moment is what you don’t have a picture of.

What this has to do with your everyday life

Perhaps you reach for your phone the moment you see something beautiful. And quietly the question runs along: Do I matter when I’m not achieving anything and not capturing anything?

The nightingale answered that without a word. It wanted nothing from me, I wanted nothing from it. Precisely because of that, something could happen.

Your mini-exercise for today

Find a place with some green today: a park, a garden, a bench along a path. Put your phone away, in your pocket and not in your hand. Sit for five minutes and simply listen. You don’t have to achieve anything, see anything or photograph anything.

If something comes to you, a bird, a squirrel, a butterfly: stay seated. And notice what it feels like not to reach for your phone.

Frequently asked questions

Where can I hear nightingales? They love dense bushes, hedges and overgrown corners, often near water. They are also migratory birds: they return to us in spring, and their song season is around May. They often sing in the evening and at night too, which is why they are known as “night singers”.

What if I never meet a nightingale? It doesn’t have to be the nightingale. It’s about becoming still and staying open to what comes. A blackbird at the side of the path that doesn’t fly off when you walk calmly past is just as much a small sign of trust.

Am I not allowed to photograph animals? Of course you are. I enjoy taking photos myself. It’s about choice: sometimes the moment is worth more when you simply experience it. If in doubt, ask yourself briefly: Do I want to be there, or do I want to have it?

Isn’t it just chance that the nightingale stayed? It may well have been chance. But I experienced it more often later, also with other animals that did not flee because I was nearby. I’ll tell you about that in the next parts of this series. When you are quiet and move slowly, you are not a threat to animals. That isn’t magic, it’s respect.

What comes next

That was the first part of my nightingale stories. In two weeks I’ll tell you what happened when I sat down in the grass together with the bird photographer. And after that, how my five-year-old granddaughter held a conversation with a nightingale.

If you feel that you’re missing the sense of being welcome and safe in everyday life, that is a good reason for a conversation. In my free initial conversation we look at it together, about 30 minutes, at your pace.

And for the days when you first need some calm: my emergency kit gives you five quick helps. It’s free, and you can open it for the first time this evening.