The resplendent quetzal is mostly tail. Crop it like an ordinary bird and you throw away the only reason to photograph one.
Same frame, five crops — nothing else changed. Watch the exact moment it stops being a record and becomes a photograph, and the moment it tips back into a generic green bird.
Same capture. Only the crop moves.

This is it. Subject upper-left, the whole tail sweeping through, just enough room to breathe. The space is doing work now, not filling it.
Ask what makes this subject worth a frame — then protect it. For a quetzal, that's the tail.
Empty space isn't waste when it gives the subject somewhere to go. It becomes waste only when it has no direction.
The urge to crop in is usually fear of the empty frame. Hold the wider edge one stop longer than feels comfortable.
Tap to dim everything the crop throws away.
"The crop is the last decision — and the one that most often undoes the photograph."
Tap each mark.

If the wider crop felt uncomfortable and still reads better — that discomfort was the lesson.