of two pesky pumas
of two pesky pumas
Had the crow experience of a lifetime this morning. Will try to recount it in the fullest detail possible.
Last night I didn’t sleep well. For a week or two I’ve been without much coffee but during the day yesterday had a few cups – normally these many cells process that caffeine quickly but it seems likely that was why I tossed and turned. At 4:41 a.m. I gingerly crawled out of bed to meditate – felt pretty distracted, with lots of intrusive thoughts – and then at 5:00 kept hearing crows. Sounding close but not necessarily outside of the house – at least 2 or 3 of them.
After a while they broke my attempt at a meditative trance and I had to go see them. Grabbed my bag of snacks (corn) and went out onto Selby. Thought I was hearing them a block west and ventured out – expecting to see them in the tall roost-spot past Pierce on the north side of the street. No luck. Turned left down Pierce and quickly realized there were about 3 or 4 crows a block in past Augustine’s. Walked up the street- their cacophony was remarkable and chattery almost to the point of annoyance. The thick, lush green trees – and dark-ish sky, perhaps on a 2.9/10 brightness setting – made it hard to see the little avian monkeys. Their caws were in bursts of three or four and extremely consistent. As I approached I made a few ‘kawwwhhh, kawwhhh’ noises and shook my keys. Then I walked directly beneath the trees, over a manhole cover next to a basketball hoop (east side of the street). I grabbed handfuls of corn and poured them onto the manhole cover. They clicked and clacked and rained their clattery sound onto the ground and to my surprise the crows were rather responsive. It seemed clear as I did this handful after handful – at least 5 or 6 of them – that the birds were watching, and one rearranged itself (seemingly to get a better view).
I continued to alert them with noise and the 4-or-so crows quickly became 10. The most I could count (as they were moving) was 10, but I believe a few were in my periphery. Continued south to the middle-end of the block and laid down a few noticeable ‘lines’ of corn – perhaps 12-18 inches long, 3 or 4 inches thick, and just about 1 layer of corn tall or heightwise. Yellow enough to be bright and visible but not voluminous enough to deplete my entire supply. I laid out one or two of these on the ground and another on a blue recycling can – the crows were extremely loud at this point, and many more were flying in (primarily from the west end of Pierce, above the trees).
Wow – it was exciting. Always I am hoping that they are comfortable or at least unalarmed by my presence, which is to some obvious extent intrusive and loud, and if they are not unalarmed or comfortable my second hope is that they will comfortably leave. Or fly away. What sucks is the possibility that crows needing rest, or really just trying to roost in one spot, or that are otherwise unwilling to take off and fly away from me, are irritated by my presence. So this morning as they screamed and gathered I kept wondering if I was bothering them – scaring them – enraging them – etc. But as they were summoning one another (within a matter of 5 minutes there were 2 dozen large birds) and screaming together over my head, which has certainly never happened in the absence of food before, I must think there was some positive reward response associated with their screams. (Later tomorrow I’ll get back over there to see if they snacked on any of it – do crows even eat corn? Don’t ask me!)
Waving my keys on my carabiner (this is a sort of Pavlovian stimulus that I introduce when I feed the crows anywhere) I walked south into the intersection of Pierce and Hague. Wave wave wave keys, drop drop drop some food, caw caw caw, sing sing sing. A common and monotonous attempt at engagement – and, for my neighbors, probably a sickening morning regularity. There were so many crows (or corvids? Ravens? Hm.) above me that I didn’t know what to do or think. Just black mass after black mass, dipping and swooping like planes, but never getting close or suggesting outward aggression. Unless I am completely ignorant to their own aggressive strategies. Together they could have shredded my scalp (or worse) and instead they simply screamed like an avian chorus and made me super duper happy. I kept laying out seeds and lovingly cooing “hello, babies!!!”
Walked back northward after a while. Those few moments with a zillion birds around me felt like a zillion years. Really admired the big fat one that was atop the roof on the NE intersection of Pierce & Hague. It was short, squat, and had the same inward neck-thrust (head upwards, body fat) as a few ravens on youtube – at least, that was what my memory suggested. For some reason this one bird (on a roof instead of trees or in the air) caught my attention as I was walking through the crowstorm back towards Selby. I walked past Selby and onto Dayton a bit, seeing yet another fatty (maybe the same one from the roof) doing the inward-neck-thrust-guttural-call from atop a tree. NE end of Dayton & Pierce. Hm.
Went home. Scattered corn around the house as I arrived – also put a few round masses of the yellow stuff onto the roof. Then crawled back into bed with a cute girl as the crows kept hollering outside.
Some years ago (perhaps late 2012 or early 2013) I wrote my older brother Michael a letter requesting a particular response. My prompt to him was simple: “Extinction.”
EXTINCTION IS EXTINCT
Our perpetually attentive society is in fact just the opposite. This ironic ignorance was born of the desire to know everything at once. Until now almost no person realized what a miserable fate access to all knowledge would be (though a collective malaise has existed since initial forays into universal accessibility to man’s aggregated history and output).
Recently, however, the awful practice of uninformed criticism of all things has come into favor among those fresh out of the educational mills of the modern western world. As such; it was only a matter of time until someone attacked our society’s newly formed habit to store away (multiple copies) everything anyone does or says. Unlike other criticisms by bright-eyed ‘scholars’ this one holds water – it is, in fact, watertight. So vile is our culture’s habit – so vile and viral, that it seems certain to infect all persons on the globe before the decade is out. Long gone are the days of a gentle wind passing unnoticed in a calm valley. No more is the time when a child’s first steps are recorded only in the memory of her parents. All things can be known to all people. And endless and frantic dash for all information has begun.
The future’s past will have no secrets. Extinction is extinct.
this kid is too darned adorable. I’m currently with him at his momma & poppa’s – they’re out on a date. and lucky them, because both of them are pretty swell folks. as is their little boy here – his facial expressions are so remarkably nuanced. sitting with him & constantly smiling at him, trying to make him smile back – i am instantly reminded that He Sees Through Me, and wont be irrationally tickled into a happy state. immense and subtle is his learning – amazing to watch him move, grasp, re-grasp, squeak, re-grasp, drop……like a drop of ink falling into the water. the ink (baby) & its environment (water) are not separate, but are distinct…..& adjust, mingle, altering one another reciprocally. even most contemporary language in the world of developmental psychology and developmental neuroscience is suggestive of this idea that babies are ‘learning the skills needed to be an adult,’ as if the passivity of embodiment suddenly vanishes at old age. in my experience both the adult (or the advanced adult/senior/cute old prune) and the child follow this same ink-water relationship. perhaps the adult-ink has settled more equally into the water, and is more familiar with the turnings of the water, and vice versa. but both follow the same rules, & neither is entitled to magic intentionality.
as a helpful reminder (or perhaps the very prompt) for these lines of thinking are some of the books that mom & dad have sitting around here. The Soul of an Octopus is the clear Ian-choice:
but resting just nearby is another consciousness-themed text. Inner Engineering: A Yogi’s Guide to Joy. I would type the description of that one but it’s too long, and this baby over here is murmuring/moving in his sleep.
Be back soon
“haha Ian I love being in public with you it’s so funny and weird”
“what’s THAT supposed to mean”
“the way you just yell up at crows and talk to them”
“i talk AT them I do not talk TO them”
“i’m serious. i talk AT them. i can’t talk to animals”
“uh huh. i’m suspicious”
Sunbathing. Never thought I’d say or do that seriously but here I am. Am with Juliette, Steph, & DAD. Nathan is allegedly possibly supposedly on his way. At the moment a breeze- tank top & shorts aren’t enough. Just a moment later (as I write) – no breeze, sun ambles out from behind a cloud. Grass itchy, flag whipping, flagpole ding-ing as the cord slaps against it. I hear the bus lowering at the bus stops – the hydraulics hiss, the bus beeps.
Grady’s birthday. With quite the gift to me, actually- phone call earlier. Was really nice. Finding myself now in an Art Space. Warsaw gallery (?) on campus. That prickly person-y perturbed silence of imperceptible voices; speech bouncing off of skull-cracking flatness. It’s a calming type of roar, ebbing and dissolving into/out of loudness like waves. It’s the senior art show & that is pretty cool – Juliette’s work has been a big part of her life lately & it’s so nice to see the completed work, her smiling about it, people admiring it. This space is certainly occupied in the verbal sense. Also adding to auditory anomaly and attention is the tapping-off to my right a little art exhibit (?) where you turn your shoes into tap-dancing shoes. There are instructions, straps w/individual metal plates on them. The smaller one the size of a quarter, the larger the size of a silver dollar or a bit larger – and a space for dancing. Dancing space is perhaps 15 by 20 feet (12 by 15?) with purple/pink sheer drapes above & on sides. One side is against wall. Opposite wall is a projector, throwing white shadow-fodder onto the wall. Just in writing this 2 parties of ppl have entered & left. NO way to keep up (as a written description) w their movements.
Taps like glass, stalagtites, dripping and ploppingploppingplopping but not shattering, one of her laces is undone–
Lots of grimaces here. Yknow, that smile that white people have when they see you. It’s posturing, not unlike how students briefly sit up straight when a principal or authority figure enters – the erector muscles in the eager & concerned backs, holding @ attention out of obligation, but not for one minute longer – act in tandem w the muscles of the face in these separate circumstances. The lips tighten, mouth burps upward into an almost-wannabe grin (those w/dimples will falsely proclaim them) – sometimes the eyebrows go up. Mine do, at least.
Baby consciousness. It’s now 4/23/2017 but I have to share some thoughts retroactively. Babysat a very special boy for some very special friends last week. As someone who loves littles more than bigs in this human world it was an absolute gift. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to take notes but had zero opportunity to take notes. So I jotted down what I could with the inkwell of my hippocampus and later wrote them down. Just a few moments/observations (These are not written in order, and are not representative of any overall sequence of behavior, as they were put on paper down some hours after the actual experience)