On Crows

Outside my mini-office window a pair of crows are nesting. I'll have to buy peanuts for them. They are birds I've long admired for their intelligence and myriad ways of communicating. If you enbiggen you can see the crow awaiting her tour of duty on the eggs on the wire on the left.

It is said they have the intelligence of a 7 year old human.

In the past I've watched them negotiate traffic lights and, imitating seagulls, drop crustaceans from a great height in order to smash them.

And I had an extraordinary experience once where about 5 km from my home I killed a crow in my car. I felt awful, pulled over to the side of the road, looked at the lovely rainbow-on-black wings and was glad it was dead because if it was in pain I don't know what I would have done.

The following morning I woke up to this terrible cawing and screeching and looked out my bedroom window to see all these crows congregated on the trees in my garden. I went outside in my pajamas and I was close to tears. I told them I was sorry. And begged forgiveness. And as sure as I'm typing this, they settled down but continued to glare at me. They knew my car, they knew where I lived. It truly freaked me out. I remember Ansa looking up at them and literally skulking back into the house. The shame of her companion murdering a crow and now having a murder of crows circling our house. I have no doubt she knew what they were saying as she had been a witness in my car to the dastardly act.

In honour of their cleverness, I love this National Geographic snippet of crows trained to pick up and dispose of garbage.



And I'll leave you with this witty cartoon:

Crows

I have six crows lined up on the wire outside my window at the moment and I was reminded of that old poem I knew as a child.

One for sorrow,
two for joy,
three for a girl,
four for a boy,
five for silver,
six for gold,
seven for a secret never to be told,
eight for a wish,
nine for a kiss,
ten for a time of joyful bliss.

I don't view such things as portents but I am reminded that I can see that for the past few days that gold has sprinkled my life.

I've had so much support in your comments and personal emails. I took an entire day off and contemplated what I should do.

And the answer as midnight struck was very simple indeed: Absolutely nothing.

Why worry this person unnecessarily with my observations of deteriorating health?

It would serve no purpose whatsoever apart from adding to their already huge stress and other health issues. And what can they do?

What can I do?

Be loving and supportive and work my way around whatever presents itself. I have had practice with my dear friend Lana and prior to her with Chuck.

Staying in the moment. Counting crows. Cherishing the gold - particularly with the support I get from all of you out there. Your words meant so much in a time of terrible distress and worry.

Thank you seems hugely inadequate.

On Crows

 Painting by Deborah Stock.

I like that they scream at me if I leave my building on my way to the car when I don't have any food for them that particular day. I have no idea how they sense it's me in my brief hike of ten steps from the door to the handicapped spot as I unlock the car door. But they assemble, waiting. Patient. A little frightening. No wonder their collective noun is a murder of crows. They sound as if they could like to murder me. Above me, they gossip in their language. Chastising, berating. Reminding me to buy the bag of peanuts. When I do distribute their preferred food choice they (I like to think) drop a fir cone near my car. A gift, an encouragement. An odd white feather (a murdered gull?) another day.

I have a few crow stories. 

And yes, I love them, their intelligence, their fearless behaviour on streets and parking lots, eyeing cars, dodging them, their massive assembly at night before they take off to various rookeries. The way they quickly learned to imitate the gulls in front of my house by catching oysters and mussels and dropping them from great heights onto the rocks to break them open.

Pandemics

I was riveted by this recent article in The Tyee. You can read the complete article here. The major points of the effects of pandemics:

(1) Immutable Forces of History

(2) Pandemics Thrive on Upheaval

(3) Pandemics are Social Accelerators

(4) Pandemics Reflect the Civilization in Which they Flourish

(5) Pandemics Erode Trust

(6) Pandemics Always Discriminate

(7) Pandemics Spawn Irrational Social Movements

(8) Pandemics Possess Long Tails

(9) Pandemics are Biological Icebergs

(10) Pandemics don't End with a Political Command or vaccine

Excerpt:

"The technosphere represents a quasi-autonomous metabolizing system composed of concrete, plastic and steel infrastructure. It runs on fossil fuels, and its ever-growing complexity now requires artificial intelligence. Unlike the biosphere which generates no waste, the technosphere gobbles energy, water and resources only to spew out continuous streams of poisonous waste such as carbon dioxide, mine tailings and plastic garbage. The technosphere’s human-created components now weigh more than all living creatures on Earth.

Pandemics, which can play the role of constraining rapidly growing populations of any kind, act as a sort of biological blowback to this relentless conquest.

Moreover, they are not random. They remain critical barometers of our social and economic fragilities. They accompany ages of discord like crows and coyotes on a rotting elk carcass. Disorder and violence follow in their wake. They accelerate every bad trend in society, whether it be political disintegration, inequality or the rapid advance of dangerous technologies such as AI. And they unleash dangerous social movements."

The whole article is well worth the read. The multiple upheavals on our planet right now are merely a symptom of massive and dangerous underlying symptoms which we ignore at our peril.

Words for Wednesday

I am hosting for the month of July 2019.

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago. Computer issues led her to bow out for a while. The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write. Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image. What we do with those prompts is up to us: a short story, prose, a song, a poem, what have you. We can use some or all of the prompts.

Some of us put our creations in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog - please provide the link to your blog in the comments. I would really like it if as many people as possible joined in this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants. If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Huge thanks to everyone who joins in the fun and/or comments.

This week's prompts are a photo followed by 2 lists of 4 words each:

(1)
School
Highway
Redhead
Crow

(2)
Yarn
Spider
Knife
Beer

Have fun!

Posted later - my story using the picture and all the words.
__________________________________________________________________________

Mrs. Martin, widow woman, had run the private school there. A faded redhead, she would have been in her late fifties then, Caroline reflected. The curriculum had been excellent with the emphasis on the arts. The tower had been a well stocked library, another room was an art studio, yet another was for needle crafts, the colourful yarns seemed to dance on the walls in the morning sun. All so long ago, now Caroline was the same age as Mrs. Martin was way back then. Nearly fifty years ago.

Mrs. Martin would have been horrified at the new bypass from the highway that ran across the house grounds, obliterating all that had been there, the trees where the morning crows would gather, the lavender bushes and the spring bulbs and those intricate pathways. And the fountain!

On impulse, Caroline stopped the car and pulled over. She knew she shouldn't but she grabbed a can of light beer from the six pack on the floor beside her and cracked it open and made a toast to long gone Mrs. Martin and her encouragement of her students. She let the warm liquid slide down her throat and feeling fortified, exited the car and went up to the house. Gosh, sadly, it looked fated for demolition.

She took a pocket knife from her purse and brushing a spider and its web off the door, twisted the blade into the old lock and popped the door open.

This is where it all began, her successful life as a sculptor. Perhaps there was some way of saving this building and making it an art gallery?

Mrs. Martin would be pleased.

Perfect Moments

A long line fishing: women, men, children, rods high.
Silent.
The fish are biting. The creels are full.
Gannets dive deep into the water, competing.
Wild roses everywhere. Breathe.
Perfumed air.

The loons call their loneliness
Into the slipping sun.
The dog paddles into the water, sniffing.
I watch the raven black crows smash
Crabs on the rocks.
The seagulls taught them this.

Evolution.

Joy and Inspiration.

What does it for you, what brings you either or both of these gifts? It's the small stuff for me. Never the large.

I watch my African violets carefully for signs of buds. I get an unbelievable amount of joy from these tiny pleasures.

I don't think of the vast gardens of my past, I concentrate on the now of my life. What is one thing I can do today that will bring me joy?

Often I look through old knitting designs I created and work out something new, something to give away, something someone would like.

Othertimes, my energy is depleted. I never take a good energy day for granted as it fluctuates, as does the pain. Poor energy and I roll with it.

I take joy from a good coffee bean like this one, which is locally roasted and just how I like it.

I read, I learn. I write. I ponder the news, which isn't that great lately is it? I honestly feel that the planet, or Gaia, is on its last legs, howling in pain as us humans destroy it.

I stare at the dichotomy of all those unfortunate emigrants, leaving desperation, at the mercy of traffickers, drowning off an overloaded wreck of a boat, 750 crammed on board, women and children abandoned to the harsh sea and dying and those millionaires in their submersible getting all the news coverage. Was it ever thus?

I look to what inspires me. The diligent crows outside my window feeding their young. Sensing when I arrive with little tidbits for them. Just about tame as they land not too far from my feet. They know me.

I look at the bravery of some in my building, who are challenged in many ways but still get out of bed and get their exercise every day in the gyms we are blessed with or walk the halls like I do. I appreciate this building I live in for many reasons, not least of it in that I can see the ocean and the nearby lake and so many trees outside. And it's so quiet it's easy to climb into my thoughts and jot them down as I roll through my day.

Staying where my hands are, knowing how safe we are here on this island off the edge of Canada surrounded by breathtaking seascapes which inspire me every single day.

Small is beautiful

Sometimes I tend to overlook the small stuff. But today, on my daily constitutional I brought the camera along. I love walking by the shore in the evenings, watching the light play on the water, the crows who line the shore learning new tricks (picking up the leftover crabs from the seagulls and dropping them from a great height to crack the shells), an errant seal bobbing up and down in play, rabbits, shrews, and flowers. Oh, the flowers that dance up when the sun has been kind. Like today.

The wild roses (dog roses my Granny called them) were brought over from Ireland back in the day and they proliferate everywhere here. I make rosehip jam from them in the fall - a jam I introduced to here.

Then these little purple flowers emerge:

The irises and lupines are on their way.

The outburst of green has been sudden here. Overnight we go from maybe-winter to full-fledged spring. Summer comes in July. And I hear the whales are in.

I must track them down. Tomorrow.

Sunday Smatterings

Question

Aferlife

What is your concept of an afterlife if you believe in such a thing?

I find out here on the Edge, for the most part, the concept is of a life just like ours here on planet earth, bingo is still played, pubs still attended, birthdays (the earthly variety) still celebrated and Facebook is used as a message centre for the Great Beyond. As in "Happy birthday Dad in heaven, I know they have your favourite beer up there!". "Happy anniversary Mom, are you now baking your pies for God/Jesus?" I have yet to see a response, but it would be lovely just to see the reaction.

As for me, I believe we live on after we die in our very original form, as in stardust, I can't ever imagine us rising from the dead on Judgement Day and the concept actually gives me the willies.

This one wild and wonderful precious life is all we have I think. But I am always interested in others' beliefs.

But I also believe there are billions of other planets, like ours, many far more evolved where time travel exists and I like playing around with that concept in my head. As in our planet keeps going back to square one and a massive culling takes place every couple of hundred thousand years and yes, time travellers from the past walk amongst us watching in disbelief as we continue to eff everything up yet again.

I look out my window tonight at a sunset of rose, the wise crows perch on the wires and the gulls soar overhead, with a pink blush drowning the white of their wings and I am gobsmacked at the beauty. And I wonder if the Trumps and the Johnsons and the Putins et al were forced to watch such magnificence would it change their view of this world. But somewhere deep inside, I know it wouldn't. We are accelerating towards climate collapse at an ever faster rate and the kings will stay in their counting houses. And yes, they would shoot those goddamned birds for sport.

Sunday Smatterings

Two words I don't see anymore and I am sure the two generations in my life don't know their meanings.

I remember a counterpane on my grandparents' bed.

What a wonderful word.

coun·ter·pane
/ˈkoun(t)ərˌpān/
Learn to pronounce
nounDATED
a bedspread.
synonyms: bedspread, cover, coverlet, throw-over, blanket, afghan, quilt; More
++++++++

There was crockery in their simple homemade cupboard beside the open range.

crock·er·y
/ˈkräk(ə)rē/
Learn to pronounce
noun
plates, dishes, cups, and other similar items, especially ones made of earthenware or china.
synonyms: dishes, pots, crocks, plates, bowls, cups, saucers; More
+++++++++
My daughter's cat Mango. He has a full time job catching mice and shrews for his bosses, the local crows, who scream and yell at him if they are not happy with his overnight haul. He crashes out during the day, exhausted. The odd time, he talks back at them in a strange chirpy language they seem to understand and they shut up. We like to imagine what he says.

+++++++++
The last time I was in Paris I took this picture from the wee balcony of our tiny hotel. Some pictures bring back a flood of memories. This one does it for me.

To be continued

LARGE
-----
In response to an article on the crises in the Middle East and commentators still behaving as if there is a free electoral system in the states, I write:
>>snip
You're all behaving as if a free electoral system still exists...
[Report this comment] Posted by: wisewebwoman on Aug 15, 2006 5:01 PM

And it doesn't. Not with the evidence of Florida in 2000 and the Diebold Debacle of 2004 in Ohio and of course the millions of blacks who could change the outcome all in prison for minor offences and with no audit trails on any of the supposedly "free" elections, they were/are and will be stolen. The only way out, in my humble opinion is a revolution and civil disobedience. Democracy has fallen and it can't get up. This is frightening beyond measure. I, for one, am terror-stricken that the world has come to this.
>>end of snip.

I'm SO frightened for the world of my granddaughter and her generation.

small
-----
and I walk 5 kilmetres by the shore and listen to the waves lap and the sunset so brilliant and am reminded of the old Simon & Garfunkle song:
"The Sun is Burning in the Sky" about a wonderful sunset such as I was seeing, with dragon-flies swooping among the trees and crows cawking as they come to rest and the gulls and cormorants fighting over a scallop shell and the sandpiper teasing my dog as she does every night and I think, this could all leave in a flash. And there is no other "Rapture", THIS is the rapture.
So I stay in the moment and celebrate the now and leave the mulling to others, just for now.