The Wild – Joseph Carrabis, Author Blog

First Turkey of the Year

Every year should have some Firsts in it.

Preferably one a week. More often if they’re welcome Firsts. Less often if they’re not.

Here we see the first Turkey of the year, and a fine specimen this joyous creature is!

We always wonder if, when we see the first of something in The Wild, is it a scout or a harbinger.

Considering the number of turkeys we’ve entertained at any one moment, we suspect neither.

More like someone getting to the table early, better to get the best seat and the tastiest offerings.

We’ll let you know.

Fenwick Dines

I mentioned in Smart Critters, Each and Every One both male and female Raccoons are glorifying us with their presence.

To prove my point, behold Fenwick, a might male raccoon.

A rather direct and focused eater, Fenwick doesn’t entertain small talk. He prefers Two-Legs get to the point ASAP.

Said point being, “Here’s your peanuts, Fenwick.”

I like that about The Wild.

Not a lot of putzin’ around. Let’s do it, get things done, there’ll be time for chatting later.

Yeah, right, most of them take off after they’ve filled their bellies.

How male, huh?

A Hawk Waits

The patience of The Wild always impresses me.

Especially when waiting for a meal.

I’ve seen creatures from the very small to the very large become quiet, become so still they are whispers against the wind…

then move with a ferocity and tenacity which is terrifying.

One of my proudest (read “most vain”) moments was realizing I could move faster than a wild animal could follow.

Part of which came from realizing what types of motion their eyes were designed to capture, something which goes back to my studies of Jerome Lettvin’s Frog’s Eye Concept, a fascinating discovery probably lost in time (MIT 1959 What the Frog’s Eyes Tells the Frog’s Brain).

Basically, we see what we’re trained to see.

In some ways, this is obvious. A trained surgeon sees disease where untrained people don’t, a trained plumber sees a leak in the making where the untrained see a sweating pipe.

Take this a step further and we learn our training affects our decision making; the brain changes incoming sensory data to fit expectations, likewise, our expectations cause us to only perceive certain data.

Adds a whole new level to Believing is Seeing, doesn’t it?

I make use of Dr. Lettvin’s Frog’s Eye Concept in The Inheritors

The Librarian closed the hatch. She reached over and opened it again. “Bertrand?”
The Librarian’s pale, hairless, babe-like head and pulsing eyes poked up through again. “Yes, Resa?”
“You can see after images, can’t you, when something’s hot enough?”
“Yes, Resa.”
“Can you see anything here?”
“No, Resa.”
“Are you sure? I think…I thought…someone was here, something which produced enough heat to keep me warm in the night.”
“No, Resa. Who do you think it was?”
She hesitated. “I thought it was the Christian Devil.”
“I would not be able to see it, real or not, Resa.”
Resa focused on Bertrand’s eyes, looking to see if the Librarian joked or not. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t be able to see him, real or not?”
“That creature’s origins are from a belief system different than our own. It cannot exist for us because we have no reason for it to exist.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course. You wouldn’t react to him. You have different mythical systems and no meme to contain it. The Frog’s Eye Concept.”
“Dr. Jerome Lettvin. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 1959. “What the Frog’s Eye Tells the Frog’s Brain.”

As noted earlier, Believing is Seeing.

The Scout

Last time I mentioned the need for broad attention in The Wild.

Often there’s a lot going on and even those who’re trained in situational awareness techniques need help from their friends.

In The Wild, this often takes the form of scouts.

Any predator species which recognizes group identity sends out scouts who report back what’s going on where. Doesn’t matter if it’s ants, bees, coyotes, wolves, …

Group survival requires a pooling of knowledge, of information, of what happened where, when, and if possible, why.

Humans, for the most part, do not employ scouts. We call ourselves a predator species, we like to think of ourselves as apex predators, and that’s an amusing deceit we employ. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent of the population doesn’t know how to monitor situations beyond what’s for dinner, what do you want to watch tonight, how’s my job going, who’s picking up the kids when, …

These are nice, yes, and hardly qualify as survival issues.

Unless you’re under fire or threat.

Repeatedly.

Ask someone who’s a war zone, or works undercover, or in espionage, or intelligence.

They well know the value of scouts.

And as a species, as we learn more of what’s in our universe, as we discover more potential threats real or imagined, the number of scouts multiplies.

Until everyone is a scout.

Scouting on each other.

Ala 1984 or McCarthyism or … umm … (and dare I say it?) … Trump?