For several years now, I have been captivated by a particular bird species: the Eastern Screech Owl. This owl — the smallest in Quebec — is a nocturnal creature with highly effective camouflage, making it notoriously difficult to spot. A truly secretive being. Perfectly hidden in tree cavities, it is far more often observing you than the other way around. And on those rare occasions, when it does reveal itself, an additional miracle sometimes occurs: from its large, deep, cat-like eyes, it may return your gaze. I almost wrote, "return you to your human condition," but that's not quite it. What happens is a miracle born of an emotion, one of regard for the Other. It may seem like a small thing, but given the fate Homo sapiens reserves for the Living — indeed, even for its own species — it is monumental.

This is the very project that Dominique Loreau undertakes here: through a multiplicity of perspectives — playful (the cow impersonator), indelible (the cow or pig in the corridor of death), or tender (the farmer speaking to his bull) — her camera never loses sight of the emotion that underpins respect between species. And that is, in fact, the etymological meaning of the word respect: "to hold and return the gaze, to look back," as explained by philosopher of science Vinciane Despret, to whom Loreau dedicates her film.

This work successfully shifts away from the worn-out philosophical question of differences, replacing it with regard, wonder, and love. Directly or obliquely, like the crow that, with furtive glances, teaches these dancers the rules of avian courtesy. As with my owl, you have to see it to believe it...

Emmanuel Bernier
Head of Acquisitions at Tënk
and loony bird

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