Chapter 16

I don’t know what to say about Hawks – they fill me. When I see a Hawk in flight, I am filled with awe. Sometimes I can’t breathe. They fill me with awe; they fill me fear; they fill me with sadness.

I don’t have a reason to be afraid of Hawks. They don’t go after humans, but sometimes when you watch them flying, if you REALLY watch them, you can see how carefully they are watching the landscape. They are always on the hunt – they are always looking. Don’t you, for a minute, make a wish that they don’t see you? Don’t you, for a minute, make a wish that they don’t find their prey?

Hawks are predators. They hunt; they kill. They are meat-eaters. Some humans don’t like them for that reason. I understand that feeling, but consider this – humans are predators. We eat MUCH MORE than Hawks do. Our problem is that we have cushioned ourselves, wrapped ourselves in cotton, in denial, i.e., we don’t do our hunting; someone else does it for us. When we sit down to eat our meals, to tear into that piece of beef or chicken we choose to forget that someone else killed a live animal. This creature died in order that we could eat it. We choose to forget.

Hawks are beautiful up in the sky. The patterns on their feathers would put the fashion world to shame. When sunlight caresses the back of the Hawk, his shadow glides across the earth. The sound of their wings is like a powerful flap of a large sheet, a flag in the air.

Hawks make me sad because I have never seen them in pairs. I want to see them in pairs. However, I’ve always see them alone - and they are usually being scolded by another bird – sometimes a crowd of crows, sometimes smaller birds. The Hawk seems so lonely, then. I don’t blame the “crowd”. I know why they do it. Anyone who thinks birds are smart has never watched them yell at a Hawk. They KNOW this Hawk might someday eat THEM

I once saw a wee mockingbird sitting on a telephone wire a few feet from a Hawk who was also sitting on that wire. That mockingbird was screaming his head off! I watched that and said to myself “oh careful, else you’re going to be dinner…”


That’s just it. I’ve seen Hawks, those magnificent creatures, pestered to death, and they don’t do a thing. They hunt when they are hungry. When they are not hungry, they don’t hunt.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the same could be said of humans?

Chapter 15

The pigeon is the closest I’ve seen to a “group mind”, although a crowd of humans is very similar (especially when the humans are angry, ever hear of ‘mob rule’, they think with one mind). I think the pigeons survive, well, because they do think with one mind. If you’ve ever watched a group of pigeons fly, you’ll know what I mean – when they leap up into the air to fly, they ALL DO, and they swoop through the sky almost like a hook, a question mark, i.e., who’s going down [mob rule]. Once when I fed some pigeons [of course they were in a group] I noted that there were a couple of the pigeons would hang back, at the edges of the group [seagulls do this too]. When these couple of pigeons flew up into the air, the rest of the group would stop what they were doing and fly as well. Then the group would come back, as one again, and keep on accepting what I gave them. It was remarkable to witness.

Once, when I was in London, I had a one-legged pigeon perch on a fence in front of me. How do they know that I am a kind soul – they find me, these birds! They know. I nearly died, when I saw him. If I could have brought him home, I would have. He must have been desperate. I feed him. He flew up in the air to get my food. Sometimes, he was only a couple of inches from me. Once, he got off balance and landed on my hand. He got back to the rail, immediately after that… I think about that pigeon at times and my heartbreaks once more.

I have seen pigeons courting, especially when I lived in Boston. The male pigeon will stand tall, coo up a storm, and puff his chest out – the iridescent purple in his feathers (on his chest) would become so – obvious. Not to the female, though. She ducks her head down, looking for food and trying to dodge the advances of her amorous suitor.

A dear, dear, intimate friend once told me “the pigeons know.” He thought they were like judge and jury.

I like it when people put interesting thoughts in my head. Since then, when I look up to the edges of the roofs, which line Main Street, I watch the line of pigeons perched on the edges of these roofs. I watch them watching us humans walk on by. I find myself thinking, “The pigeons know.” I feel like I’m on trial then – and feel a pleasurable, eerie chill.

The pigeons do know – just watch them. They know.

Maybe some day, they’ll tell us.

Chapter 14

It wasn’t until an old friend called Starlings - “disheveled professors” that I learned to love this deceptive bird. European Starlings are like the invasive plants that naturalists and environmentalists warn us to NOT encourage [live, grow, darn you…]. The Starling was brought over to the United States, and like the European Colonists, the Starlings took over this continent, crowding out quieter birds, forcing them to retreat, retreat, vanish into thin air… the Starling remains. I remember seeing the Starling, as I struggled through teenage-hood. Like many other human bird fanciers, I would groan at this dull bird taking over the feeders, the landscapes, pushing aside the prettier, smaller birds…

Yet, when the term “disheveled professor” got into my mind, in reference to the Starling, I looked at this bird with a new eye - and was surprised.

They ARE Cinderella, dressed in dull rags, with the gown for the ball underneath. They ARE the knight in shining armor, wearing a black coat, which he takes off before he fights his foe… Starlings are a dark brown, almost black with flecks of gold almost underneath these darker feathers – it is a buried treasure this gold.

However, “disheveled professors” don’t carry gold in their back pockets – think about what a disheveled professor looks like - glasses crooked, his suit jacket messed up, wrinkled, his hair sticking out in all different directions, his tie on crooked, and his shirt underneath probably in need of a wash…

Now look at Starlings when they perch on the telephone wires. They’ll stay there throughout a rainstorm. The Starling is the ONLY bird I’ve ever seen who looks VERY BAD after getting wet – like a disheveled professor!

They are very social beings, and surprisingly, their song is BEAUTIFUL.

I once watched a row of Starlings on a telephone wire, during a rainstorm. A group of them huddled together. There was one who was a sitting a part from this group. He looked much “disheveled”, and downright miserable. Then, one of the starlings from the group flew up in the air and then flew over to perch next to this lonely fellow.

It made me smile that.

Chapter 13

The Cardinal, proper location, Northern, lad and lady … the Cardinal is a bird who brings up many philosophical points. How? The answer is simple, and yet complex - it is because of the way this feathered friend looks. The male is a bright, bright red. His mate is brown with shy fringes of red in her frock (and sporting bright red lipstick, i.e., her BEAK)… The scientific explanation is that the male is supposed to be a bright color and the female a duller color because the male is supposed to do battle with those who would find the nest [got to protect the family]. He is the lure. The female huddles down in the nest and waits until her knight, in shiny red armor, defeats the enemy…

Well, yeah, but… how did genetics know this? He’s red because the Cardinal bird “cells” met in the back rooms to discuss the situation? I understand the concept, but the reality is rather strange – HOW did it happen? I’ve also heard that it is genetic trial and error, that throughout the years, animals, birds, humans change, until the baby of the species is better and stronger. So when did Mother Nature become a Master Race Scientist?

Bah. The Cardinal is a symbol/memory of mine – at a crucial point in my life, I looked for a sign, a symbol for the day, I looked out the window, because I’ve always taken my cues from Nature, and the Cardinal swept across the sky, and I saw him, clearly, due to that bright red color.

Therefore, I choose him. Hey, we all have symbols that get us by, help us survive. When I look at the Male Cardinal, I think of blood, bright red blood from a cut. Is he Royalty? On the other hand, is this the crown of thorns spiking the forehead and drawing the essence of life out to play? Is the Northern Cardinal a reminder to be true to your REAL self?

I live by the rule – the Macrocosm reflects the Microcosm - we can find all our answers in Nature, if we only LOOK.

Life is a network, a patchwork, a quilt, threads intertwined, connected…. I’ve had people read my writings and respond, “Oh, isn’t that cute…”

Grrrrrrr … If we don’t take care of our environment, the stage that we act out our lives on, we humans will perish! Birds are the descendents of dinosaurs! They deserve some respect!

The easiest way to get on the wrong side of my bed is to tell me “isn’t that cute…”

Maybe I need to look for the Cardinal today, the red male Cardinal. Maybe I need to be reminded of the blood that courses through all our veins and that connects us all, men, animals, birds, the universal consciousness…

Maybe, I need to go out and play.

That’s another rule I live by - it is through playing that we find serious truths. We knew that as children. We need to reclaim that truism, as adults.

The Northern Cardinal's call [song] is sharp, sweet, and short. This bird is a poet, master of alliteration and contrast.

Chapter 12

I find it odd that I am talking about chickadees, the one who wears the black cap, polite little fellow, except he/she never takes the cap off, kidding... I find it odd that I'm talking about the black-capped chickadee NOW in Chapter 12, since he/she is part of my childhood memories. Back yonder, eons ago -- whoa mate, you're not that old -- I remember sitting on the porch of my parents' home. It's winter and my mother put out the bird feeder. We sat on that porch, and watched the chickadees feed. Therefore, they are survivors, like me.

I read about chickadees where they get together with other small birds, because the chickadee will call out, HEY THERE'S FOOD, and other small foragers will come running. Those wee mates do need to stick together, because what I remember most about chickadees is their "running helter-skelter" when the larger birds, the grackles and starlings come, mostly the grackles.

The chickadees come, quietly, first, to get the food. Once the larger birds leave, later, the chickadees will come back.

One of the old concepts of what makes a human "human" is that they use tools - that idea has been blown to smithereens by the monkeys being observed using tools to get at food (a stick). The birds need to be put in that category as well, methinks, as tool-users. The chickadee will bring a see, a piece of food up to a branch, put it down, and then peck at it. That's using his beak, using the branch, and using some thought. How can that be called instinct? He/she remembers, somehow. I've seen crows use tools (pebbles).

Is it that they are more human than we thought? Alternatively, does that old concept of "what is human" need to be revised? I like the thought, myself that we humans are more like them - the animals and the birds.

I like the idea of being more like the birds. Moreover, humans, DEFINITELY, as a group, want to be birds - well, why did we persist, for so long to try to fly?

The chickadee is a nice, social, entity. I like the idea of the little guys, birds of various persuasions, "sticking together".

Chapter 11

I would like to see Grackles and Seagulls go for the same pile of bread crumbs, the same bird feeder, the same discarded meal, left by irreverent man... both bird "kinds" are extremely aggressive. The Grackle will steal food. I've seen Seagulls "beat up" other birds, i.e., MINE MINE MINE... I wonder why these two birds never tangle (at least within my world...). Perhaps they know that if they do, KA-BOOM, all will cease to exist? Do true warriors respect one another i.e., if you want to stay alive you LEAVE that dude alone, he's just like you...

Grackles, at a distance are large loud black birds. I suspect people will see them up in the trees, or on the telephone poles and think "crow". Alternatively, just "black bird"... but a Grackle up close... he wears an Iridescent hood, the pillowcase mask, and it is a brilliant blue. A Grackle flew into the bush next to my window, this morning, and once more I was in awe of that color, that hood... but think on it - robbers wear masks, the Grackle is a robber. He is a thief. Maybe the thief at Mardi Gras, although I think it is the Crow who is the joker, the clown. Are Grackles smart? They know the strategy of mob rule. When they find a place to feed, it isn't just one who shows up it is a GANG who does a strafe landing... rat-tat tat, out of the way, the Grackles are coming! Hmm. Should be a City Gang wearing those colors, black and Iridescent Blue. It is the Grackle who homeowners curse. The "cute little birds" are always chased away by this big boisterous mob of black birds with their blue hoods, stick 'em up, give me all your bread, man...

Yet the Grackle mother is quiet, and patient. ... the monstrous child follows the sleek mother, whose black feathers sometimes shine in the sun, a match for that Iridescent hood... the monstrous huge child, a dull grayish brown, screaming, as the mother pecks at the in-betweens ... (what do they find between the grass blades, birds...)

What training is this? Is the mother saving up for her gregarious social gatherings with the rest of her tribe? Is she saving her voice? Alternatively, is it the child who is getting ready for the harsh scream that he will cry, as an adult, when he dive-bombs the bird feeders in our backyards - chasing the "cute little birds" away?

I like the cute little birds a lot. However, you have to respect a survivor.

Maybe it is the Squirrel that the Grackle has more in common with than the Seagull - both the Squirrel and the Grackle always "mix it up" with us Humans. They get in our faces.

They're survivors.

Chapter 10

This is a magpie, obviously a baby. Are there magpies in America? I don't know; I've never seen one. I'm only aware of magpies in the UK. A baby is a baby, in any language and species, the first reaction (unless you have a heart of stone) is "oh, isn't he/she/it adorable". Funny, though, about baby birds... I've seen several bird babies with their parents - and they always, at one point in the growing - are HUGE. For instance, the grackles, and the starling, their babies are stunners! The parent is so tiny and the baby so demanding. As they grow older, the baby becomes smaller.

Does that mean we are full of ourselves, as children, i.e., it's ALL ABOUT ME, so we puff up, we fluff up, we yell for our suppers?

I think the child stays inside the adult, myself. The adult just learns how to tell the child - be quiet.

I went to a workshop on identifying footprints in the "wild" (the wild can be your backyard). I learned that this could become an obsession. Humans have an instinct for the hunt. However, with our evolving (or is it de-evolving?) away from the need of constantly foraging for our suppers, we have learned to hunt for other things. Some hunt at the Mall, others online. We thirst for information, stimuli, games, possessions.

The Magpie's like that. That bird tickles me with his/her need to collect shiny objects.

Footprints - what I learned is that in identifying, what animal, or bird has been "here" (where you're standing when you are looking for pints) that you should look at your total environment. Are there teeth marks in the branches? Is the grass chewed up? Are there bones, droppings? An owl leaves pellets, i.e., things he/she couldn’t digest, so he coughs it up. A crow is a walker - you can see that in his footprints. Birds who stay in the bushes and trees most of the time will hop when they touch the ground. You can also see that in their particular imprint.

What footprint do I leave? What will it say about me?