A Sense of Wonder

Chickadee2Some might also call this a sense of awe. Today, as I’m sure you’re aware, one of the most commonly used word to describe what someone really likes is awesome. I use it myself. But nowadays everything is awesome. When everything is awesome, then really, nothing is awesome.

But semantics aside, how wonderful is it to find that sense of awe, of true wonder, much like a child. It’s a gift. I stumbled across it just the other morning. I was sitting by the front windows journaling and I happened to look up to see a flutter of chickadees and a male cardinal hopping about the porch railing and in and out of an adjacent yew. The chickadees were puffed up to keep warm and quite busy with whatever they were doing.

Without moving, I just watched them, yes, in awe, of their singular beauty. I became aware that I was smiling and just sending that reverential feeling to them. And then they stopped, cardinal included, and looked directly at me. I don’t know quite what a bird can perceive through glass, but I have no doubt that it was my energy that spoke to them. And for brief moments we all seemed as one, just being, time suspended. Now that … was truly awesome.  Then time and motion resumed, them hopping, me watching.

I believe we have far too few moments like this in our lives. We are too busy, too fractured, too distracted, but the moments are there, waiting. Ask any child. And all it takes is being still, stopping and looking. Really looking.

Here’s Looking at You, Kid!

Finally! Work subsided sufficiently that my blogging brain returned and I knew what I was going to write for a post as soon as I got the chance. But in the meantime, something else happened.

 

In the afternoon, the western sun bathes my office and upstairs bedrooms in warmth and light. Great in cooler weather, not so much in the summer. Anyway, about noon or so each day I go upstairs and open all the windows facing that way so as to soak up as much heat as possible to stave off the chill of the cooler autumn evenings and nights. In the back bedroom, Claude was soaking up that sun on top of a piece of furniture, too, but seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being closely watched!

Then he realized … it moved! As I moved with my camera, the praying mantis got into prayer/attack position and rotated his head to keep an eye on me. Claude was interested only when he moved, which I suspect has something to do with an animal’s depth perception or ability to comprehend something on the other side of both screen and glass.

These creatures are so bizarre looking, but so fascinating. If they are symbols of good luck, which has been said to me, then I ought to be in for one big bucket-o-luck anytime soon!

Claude, below, not quite knowing what to make of this slow-moving creature. (I’ll get to that other post real soon. This was too good to pass up!)

 

Waiting for the Apples to Come In

It’s gonna be a long wait, Mama Doe; it’s only June!

Mama has made herself quite comfortable weaving in and out of neighbors’ yards as of late. Sunday she appeared with her two yearlings who were not nearly as brave as she. While they stood somewhat apprehensively in the roadway, Mama casually chowed down a couple of  my neighbor’s hostas, grazed thoughtfully on their lawn, and then jumped the picket fence of the folks across from them to see what other delicacy she might find.

I understand her under the apple tree. Once the apples come in, you can watch any number of deer and other wildlife feasting on those apples already fallen and those on the lower branches. But considering that there is so much browse available surrounding our neighborhood streets, I wonder why she chooses to come so close to humans. I’m guessing she has simply acclimated and is in her comfort zone.

The small irony which I could not get any closer to capture lest she run, is the child-size scarecrow sitting at the edge of my neighbor’s very well-fenced garden not 20′ away from Mama Doe grazing under the apple tree. I do not believe deer to be cunning animals, but I wondered … could her apparent search for apples have really been a sly stake-out of the garden?

The Photo I’ll Never Get

Something unusual has been happening on my back porch. I’d love to get a photograph of it, but it’s not going to happen. Well, not unless I suddenly have the time to sit out there stock-still for extended periods of time. But first let me show you the photo I can get. Not very exciting, I know. But to know what I can’t photograph, you can see the other half of the picture – the stationary items.

These are the food and water bowls on my back porch adjacent to my back door. They’re there to feed aforementioned feral cat, Little Fee, and the cats next door whenever they’re inspired. The other day while busy working, I heard a nasal, one syllable, repeated caw. I knew it was a crow, but he sounded mighty close. Where was he?

I tip-toed slowly back to the kitchen, and there he was, sitting on the railing, eyeing the cat food. I stationed myself at the back door and watched as he, after surveying his surroundings for safety, dropped to the porch deck and ate a few pieces of food. This was new! And then he flew away. That’s one of the photographs I would like to have gotten. Maybe a week earlier, I had spotted a blue jay – same routine – but he took one piece and flew away, and returned some time later for more. Whether or not it was the same jay, I’ll never know, but that was also a great shot I’ll never get.

The day following the first crow’s appearance, I heard more crow chat on the back porch, and now there were two – one eating from the bowl, and another on the railing. The latter soon hopped down, pushed the other aside, and ate a bunch. I guess the word is out, so I may have to adjust what I do with the food – I don’t really need to be feeding high quality, holistic cat food to the local crow population, nor do I need them on my porch, as much as I love crows.

Did you know that crows have the highest brain-to-skull ratio of any living bird? They are considered one of the most intelligent birds alive with several species topping the avian IQ scale and as demonstrated by their construction and use of tools, creation of mid-air games such as jousting and “air-chicken” to determine the pecking order, and other feats. It is reported that although humans cannot generally tell individual crows apart, crows have been shown to have the ability to visually recognize individual humans, and to transmit information about “bad” humans by squawking to one another.

Although crows are, and have been, viewed in many different ways throughout history to the present, their presence is often thought to be symbolic of magic and creativity. (Ted Andrews discusses this at length in Animal Speak.)

Will I ever get a photograph of the crows on my porch? I’m sure not, but maybe someday I’ll be in the right spot at the right time in some other location to get just the right photo. Meanwhile, I think I have to look out for Little Fee, and make sure his food supply is not commandeered by these opportunistic black beauties.