More often than not, when I am out and about photographing nature, I am surprised at the willingness of it's inhabitants to accept me even as I push into their world. To allow me, a human, the most invasive species on Earth, to get close enough to capture their image is very trusting of them all things considered. Is it the quietness of my step, the slowness of my movements, or the smile in my eyes that leads them to have faith I won't hurt them?
Sometimes, when gifted a moment where they move very close to me, or allow me to get within feet of them, I lower my camera just to be present, even if I haven't gotten the image I am seeking. No camera clicking, no anxiety trying to get the best angle, just an appreciation of how beautiful they are and how lucky I am that they are accepting me in their "house".
I wonder, why do they tolerate me? Maybe it's because I trust them, too.