Babblelog January
28, 2006
Dear Diary,
January 2006, geese
flying and crying overhead at 2 am, why
Been watching bird
TV in birch tree outside window. Enjoy social eavesdropping… like
sitting in airport trying to suss out bio of person across from you:
clothes? book? Coke or Pepsi? Mac or PC? Red or blue?
It seems a basic
fact of nature that we put things into kinds, this is like that, and
this other thing is not…. Leads to lots of “us vs. them” conflicts, as
we do not all agree about what the meaning of “us” is.
So here I sit,
sorting avian regulars outside my window. Sunflower or millet? Migrant
or resident? For daylight savings or against it?
Scene pretty much
like English tea party … truly well dressed birds, eating and
twittering. Then, I added a suet cake to the scene… channel changed
instantly from PBS to ESPN extreme. In came a rogue squad of starlings….
tea cups went crashing, lots of “a hems” or “well I nevers” as starlings
headed for food. No sign of disciplined Brits-type queue either but
blitz sacking any poor bird in their path…did not even have to look up
to know they were there, as they squealed like the unoiled machine they
were.
Took me a day or so
to realize I was watching two or more bands ----some starlings had beaks
of winter black and some already sported spring yellow. Beak colors a
matter of testosterone; maybe the yellow beaks jumped the gun with
visits to tanning salon? Started to compare winterbeaks and springbeaks:
latter could dominate former with so much as a stare. But winterbeaks
hung in groups with lots of schmoozing: springbeaks seemed to stay to
themselves, lonely at the top I guess.
At some point, a
piece of suet fell loose and landed on ground,
and something like football and ultimate Frisbee overtook the crowd.
Lots of running and colliding and tossing the suet, which was about the
size of a quarter. “Fight ! Fight!”, shouted the cardinals from the
sidelines. “Definitely afoul” whistled the Downy Woodpecker patrolling
area as designated referee. Some fast TV time outs as Goodyear blimp
turned out to be a hawk.
Then, for some
reason, my brain changed the channel to DISNEY—this was not a fight,
this was play. It was what we all used to mean by a game before big
sports and the powers-that-be turned fun into funds. If what I was
watching was not fun, the suet would be getting smaller and the
springbeaks would be hammering the winterbeaks but there they were,
shoulder to shoulder, suet going from beak to beak, no worse for wear.
Lots of cheers, sort of like last chorus my modem makes before yielding
up a connection.
As
kids, we played games for the heck of it, making up crazy rules, arguing
about those rules longer than we played the game governed by those
rules, ending up dirty, tired, and happy. When my kids played organized
sports, found myself fearful for unlucky kid who had made a mistake
during game: knew he would have to answer to coach and dad later who was
videotaping whole thing,
The suet game ended when one of the
groundskeepers, our dog, Dakota, ate the ball. OK with starlings, as
they need to rest up for nesting season just ahead. Next day, saw two
starlings arguing all by themselves under dogwood tree over ownership of
old breakfast cereals I had thrown out for refreshments at yesterdays
game.Sort of a “he said,
she said” tone to quarrel. …both have almost springbeaks, one was
pinkish at the yellow base and one was blue-ish (believe it not, that’s
how you tell male and female starlings apart). A preview of Lifetime TV,
maybe, true romance sealed with an ancient Froot Loop.
