Tag: Birds

The Little Bird

The Wild brings me gifts.

Sometimes the gifts are great ones; a long, deep snow whitening the darkness of Winter, my Brother Orion striding across the skies.

Sometimes the gifts are small ones; bright green buds announcing Spring’s arrival, the first web of a spider awakening from a long winter nap.

Sometimes the gift is a small bird curious as to the boundaries of one world and another, human and not-human, inside and outside, wild and tame.

Given my druthers, give me The Wild. There the rules are clear, the rules are known. They are not subject to whimsy, to one or a few people’s whim, to last night’s bad piece of beef or undercooked potato.

I appreciate the tame warmth when The Wild is cold. I appreciate the tame light when The Wild is dark.

But I do not appreciate the undecisive future of the tame. There are many factors determining the path of The Wild and even the most extreme are known, recognized, and understood.

The tame’s path’s undecisiveness is uncalculable by all but the most advanced mathematics using tools few tame understand or can wield, effectively making The Wild the safer bet for natural longevity.

So if push comes to shove, look for me in The Wild. All are predator, all are prey, …

And all are welcome.

 

Chowing Down at Chez Carrabis

Sometimes The Wild blesses us in ways unexpected.

Here we have an example.

Food placed in trays for raccoons is snarfed up by birds.

All sorts of birds.

Okay, not pterodactyls.

Okay, pterodactyls are not birds.

Bird wannabees, maybe?

Bird forerunners.

Yeah, that’s better. Bird forerunners.

Doesn’t matter, really.

Except I’d rather have trays full of birds than pterodactyls.

(but imagine the videos that’d make…)

 

Susan’s Birds

My beloved Susan (wife/partner/Princess) loves birds.

Doesn’t matter the kind, size, shape, or call. All birds are her friends.

It’s something that’s been in her life as long as she remembers.

When we first courted, I visited her when she worked with horses (she’s quite the equestrian). I mention to her that the horses she worked with didn’t know her as “Susan” and instead recognized her as “Feather.”

I thought because she rode such a light saddle, hence “light as a feather” and quickly realized that’s a Two-Legger concept, not equine, so I did what any red-blooded American male raised in the latter half of the 20th century in a land of great promise and wealth and technological mastery of the universe would do…

I asked the horses.

“She is the same as they,” the horses explained, and by “they” their thoughts referenced birds.

So my wife, my Beloved, is Feather to those who carry her through woods and down country paths.

Enjoy!

ps) she takes pictures, not videos)