Asis Likes Opera (and he owns the yard)

It’s wonderful when you share joys with your neighbors.

One of my joys is music. Can’t get enough and there’s not much I don’t like. Or at least recognize cultural value in.

I noticed Asis the Hawk a’bobbin and a’weavin’ to some classic tunes.

Opera.

I enjoy a good opera. A good Gilbert and Sullivan.

Evidently Asis does, too.

Enjoy.

 

Discussions with Asis the Hawk

Picking up from last week’s Abis the Hawk, we continue our daily hawking.

This time with a male, Asis.

Asis spends much time in our trees, observing.

I wonder if he remembers being a tyrannosaur? Of feeling the blood to lesser behemoths flow down his sides, of hearing their death cries as his mighty raptorous teeth ripped from them hunks of flesh the size of buffalo.

You’ll note that Asis is not camera shy.

Even preens.

Says, “Go ahead, take your shot. I’ll put on a show for you.”

What a glorious lad.

 

Abis the Hawk

We are seeing more hawks this season than usual.

Meaning, we are aware of more hawks. It could be the same number as always, we’re simply recognizing them.

Doubtful, that.

If we’re blithely ignorant, other Old Ones are not. Most birds and small mammals scatter, hide. Except for turkeys who won’t scatter, instead cloistering to protect their young.

Abis is new to us. I didn’t know her name at first. Took a few encounters before she’d share.

Hawks tend to be guarded creatures. Not wary so much as watchful, waiting, wanting to make sure things are safe. For them.

Most predators are that way, wanting to make sure things are safe for them before they act.

I can’t imagine it’s a happy existence, being a predator. The Laws of Equilibrium dictate that if you are a predator then you must be something else’s prey. Even apex predators are prey, although their nemeses are often the tiniest of things (think HG Wells’ The War of the Worlds), those and old age, death, who comes to us all at some point in time.

But then, as Borges said, “To be immortal is commonplace; except for man, all creatures are immortal, for they are ignorant of death.”

 

Turkeys Between the Holidays

Safety and Rest

Ever wonder what turkeys do between the holidays?

Well, you shouldn’t.

Two-leggers have holidays. The Wild doesn’t do holidays.

But imagine what a holiday would be like?

No predators.

Or ample prey.

Or ample seeds. Whatever your chosen food source, it’s abundant to the point there’s no confrontations over it.

If you’re female, males only approach when you want them to, not when they decide to.

(translation: males get smart)

If you’re male, females don’t say no.

(translation: sexual selection is gone)

It’s warm or cold. It’s whatever temperature you’re best designed for.

And you can rest.

That’s the big one, because sleep as modern, western civilization humans understand it doesn’t exist in The Wild. Your pet sleeping beside you can get into such a deep sleep it’s possible they dream, possibly woof, tweet, meow, or whatever in their sleep.

Do that in The Wild and you’ve revealed your resting location, ie, you’ve become food. Even apex predators don’t sleep as modern humans do. Far too dangerous.

But here are some turkeys, safe between the holidays.

Not sleeping, although we do make sure there’s plenty of seed for them.

Happy Holidays (after the fact), all.

 

A Possible Agnes Sighting?

The Old Girl’s Still Got It

I wrote in Safe for Another Year that we had not seen Agnes for a while.

We may have been premature.

True, we had not seen that glorious hen in a bit. Perhaps she rested. Perhaps she attended to to her matronly duties.

One can never be sure with matron hens.

But then we saw her. We think we saw her. In all her matronly glory. We’re pretty sure it’s her from her markings and more so because she’s standing where we often put seed for her, where she first performed her Chippie War Dance, and is staring at me, basically saying “Come on, Two-Legs! Gimme some!”

We’re glad.

We like to be with our friends for as long as we can.

And the Old Ones…they are the truest of friends.