Life Out This Way

July 12, 2012July 12, 2012 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

I was determined this morning to get some time out on one of my porches before the onslaught of work began. There’s plenty on my desk plus a scheduled quick trip to the vet. It’s easy to get up and take care of the necessary house stuff then dive into work with nary a moment of peace on these still-cool mornings.

So I put off making breakfast and brought my coffee to the shady back porch and sketched a bit. Then I closed my eyes and just listened. I heard the gentle gurgling of the neighbor’s pond which is partially behind my home; the GUNK! of one of the froggy residents; I distinctly recognized a cat bird and a sparrow singing, and at least 5 others that I was not able to identify. There was some machine humming in the distance, an occasional vehicle some blocks away, but these were barely noticeable. There was not one human to be heard. It was peaceful.

In looking about me I saw two goldfinches zipping back and forth in tandem and a few chimney swifts flitting about high in the sky. At the edge of the porch, bumblebees were pushing their way into the lavender hosta flowers. A medium size rust beetle was seemingly trying to bury himself – or perhaps burrow – in the corner by the back door, an impossibility, of course. I couldn’t imagine his purpose but he was way off course, so I took a piece of paper and transported him down into the hosta, where at least it was a more natural environment for him.

When I did get to breakfast, I made sure to include one of the fresh peaches from my local farm stand. This quiet morning was a great start. The only downside? I couldn’t stay for hours.

The Photo I’ll Never Get

March 31, 2012March 31, 2012 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

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.

A Disdain for Flash

March 23, 2012 / still a dreamer / 5 Comments

This morning I watched a female cardinal on my front porch railing. With the warmer weather having arrived early, she is already quite sleek. As she hopped along the rail I couldn’t help but admire the beauty in the subtlety of her coloration … the muted olives and golds edged with red and the bright persimmon of her beak.

I went along my morning and was still thinking … now of the beautiful coloration of the peahen. She may pale alongside the brilliant shades of turquoise and green of her male counterpart, the peacock, much as the female cardinal does when compared to the bright red male, but her beauty isn’t in the flashiness of her color. It’s in the quiet richness, with just a necklace of iridescent aquamarine.

There’s a certain pleasure in subtle beauty. In our media-driven culture, the biggest, brightest and flashiest is always being foisted upon us and honestly? I sometimes find it draining. Don’t you? Admittedly, I can be distracted by shiny objects … nothing wrong with that from time to time, but as a steady diet, the loud, the bold and the dazzling wears thin.

I will always take delight in the bright plumage of a male Cardinal or Peacock. But I also appreciate the ladies. They have a disdain for flash. And yet are undeniably beautiful. Maybe they’re a bit more like most of us.

Photos: Cardinal courtesy of Wikipedia Commons, Penelope Peahen courtesy of Popcorn Park