Aros, The Love Hawk

Watchful, patient, attentive. Anybody notice that Love is a lot like Predation?

Earlier this week we were graced by Aros. At first I thought he was saying “Eros” so we called him “The Love Hawk.”

Turns out we couldn’t quite make out his dialect. Aros, not Eros. For a while we thought he was saying “Aeros” and to be honest, that might be correct.
Swyrlian, the Hawk language, is not the easiest language for humans to understand. At least not this human. And for that matter, his dialect is Northeast Woodlands, making it a little more difficult. It’s like Portuguese to me; quite fast. Everything slurs together. I keep waiting for someone to take a breath.

We did learn that Hawks always start their names with “A”. We spent time with Avis, Aris, and Avid. Opossums always start their names with the “O”. Don’t know which language came first. Probably Opossum. Predators always evolve once prey exists to prey upon. Evolve before there’s prey and evolution’s screwed up, not doing its job. Not a chance, that.

Notice that “A” pattern in the Hawk names? Avis, Aris, Avid, Aros? No idea why. It’s not obvious in the Swyrlian. Maybe Lower Swyrlian but not Standard.

Once we got the name right and tuned our ears, we apologized for the “Love Hawk” reference and Aros laughed (Hawk laughter can be chilling if you’re unprepared. They stare at you intently, their beak opens, their rasper tongue darts in and out. Sometimes their talons strengthen their hold) and said we were spot on, he is known as The Love Hawk among his aerial peers.

Spend more time making yourself someone somebody would want. You can’t be a predator unless you’re willing to be the prey. Especially in love.

That’s when he pointed out that humans are confusing to Hawk and, indeed, most Old Ones. Being in love is an act of predation. You are going after something, hunting something, tracking something, not for food but for that other great need, procreation. The skills used for one are the skills used for another.

Where humans – as usual – muck it up is not knowing the limits of one or the other. Love becoming stalking is no longer love and the hunter becomes the prey of their own confused desires.

“I’ve often heard humans say, ‘If I can’t have you then nobody can’,” he said. “Few say, ‘If you can’t have me then nobody can’ and the truth is ‘If you don’t want me somebody else will.’ Spend more time making yourself someone somebody would want. You can’t be a predator unless you’re willing to be the prey. Especially in love.”

Wisdom of the Old Ones, that.

Meanwhile, Aros…


So Rude

Turning your back on your guests! And at the dinner table!

Life continues.

It may be the New Year according to at least one human calendar, The Wild doesn’t notice. Critters still must eat, Republicans and Democrats still must be hostile to each other.

One wonders how we Two-Leggers are from our non-human forebears. I mean, have you ever seen the childish behavior that gets in the way of getting things done along lawmakers and business leaders?

You have to wonder, are these really the people making the laws? Are these the people really keeping business running?

Case in point, dining.

Historically, meal time is where the most powergames occur. Not just in diplomatic and business circles, even among families.

Want to know a family’s true dynamic? Sit them around a table, see who gets to eat first, who gets to take the biggest helpings, who helps who with their food.

Want to know a nation’s dynamic? Go to a state dinner. Want to know a company’s dynamic? Go to a staff lunch or dinner.

I find such things fascinating. People spend more time figuring out the social signals than exchanging actionable information or eating.

Not so in The Wild.

You don’t want to talk to someone? Turn your back to them. Much easier and easily understood.


Thankful Turkeys Celebrate – Turkey Day of Infamy 2018

Did you celebrate the Turkey Day of Infamy?

Hello, World.

Non-USA readers may know that yesterday was the USA Thanksgiving, also known as Turkey Day of Infamy.

Oh? You’ve never heard of the Turkey Day of Infamy?

It’s widely known around these parts. Turkeys gather, flock, peck, commiserate, consolidate, and those who remain celebrate making it through another season of bloodshed and horror.

I mean, consider Thanksgiving from the turkeys’ point of view.

Oh, the turkanity!

Yesterday, before we took off to feast (to our everlasting shame!), we took a moment to thank the turkeys who remained with us.

We interviewed a few. Can’t share those. Such fowl language, you’ve never heard. (ha)

But quite the flock, folks.

Such is life in The Wild.

The Return of the Seven

Ham with a side of Cranberry? Really?

I haven’t shared notes about our resident turkeys since The Chuckster and then to mention we hadn’t seen them in a bit. Prior to that, I wrote about Two Toms a’ Struttin’ and noted that, with that much testosterone hanging, turklets (we’ve been instructed they’re not “hatchlings” or some such. The proper translation from Toiga, the primary Turkey language, is “turklet”) were sure to be around.

We’d been hearing turkeys calling each other for a while. Hadn’t seen anyone, though. No turkey signs, either. You know, those signs they carry. Ban Thanksgiving!, Humans are Turkeys, Too!, Support the Turkey Lobby!, and Try Ham with a Side of Cranberry! So Good and So Good for You!.

Anyway, one day as I was working on Gable Smiled and had a sense I was being Turkied. Sure enough, lifting my eyes from my monitor, what do I behold?

There were more than seven, of course. I counted fourteen at one point (they came three times. Wanted to be sure I understood this was to be a turkey-less Thanksgiving this season).

And there were turklets. More like turkteens but still turklets.


Chester and Sylvie

The kits are out and about

A few weeks back I wrote Vasch and Euste Join Us for Some Casual Dining. I have mentioned the possibility of fox kits in Vasch the Fox. We knew kits were out there (we’d heard them crying more than one night) and waited patiently until they made their presence known.

Sure enough, a few nights back that’s just what they did.

Welcome Chester and Sylvie, Vasch and Euste’s kits from earlier this year (we think).

We, of course, are thrilled that Chester and Sylvie have human-pronounceable names.

But they are fox.

They could be foolin’ us.