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Birds At War – One Crow Sorrow

 I don’t know how it started – I heard it, but didn’t see it.


There was a harsh thud against the window. If you are used to it (I have heard it enough) you know that a bird has struck the glass. Generally  hard enough to stun or kill. Break their necks. When he was a child, my father saw a bird hit a window so hard that it smashed the glass and ended inside the room. It was dead.


So I got out of my chair and pulled the blinds open and took a look. By the sidewalk was a blackbird, dead enough looking for me to assume it was dead. As it proved to be. But, also on the scene were  five or six blackbirds, calling and fluttering and diving and raising right hell .I thought it an unusual commotion even for the death of one of their own,
And then I looked up into the fir tree on the corner of the property. A third of the way from the ground was a crow. A very cautious crow. A crow twisting its head every which way it could.


Now, I did not see what made the blackbird crash into the window. It is reasonable to assume the crow was somehow the cause. Blackbirds chase crows, and dive bomb them, and worry them, and harry them, and do so with the help of other blackbirds. Crows like to raid their nests and eat their eggs or their young. A crow is a big bird compared to a blackbird. Strength in numbers.


So, I suspect the dead blackbird made an in flight miscalculation while chasing the crow. It got too close. Then, as it tried to get out of range, it crashed into the window. I was quick to look out the window, and the crow was already in the tree. It may have lunged at the blackbird, or spread its wings. or aimed its beak. The blackbird moved too quickly in its attempt to get out of the way.


But the crow was not out of the woods yet. It wasn’t going to take to the sky and attempt an escape. A half dozen blackbirds could inflict injury on the crow. It was going to stay put.


I had the unusual experience of being nearly level with the crow. I watched it. I watched its head. I watched its eyes. Birds have active, cautious, suspicious eyes. Their eyes are large in relation to their heads. Their eyes are jammed into their eye sockets, so they are generally  unmovable. Consequently, when they want to move their eyes, they have to move their head.


So, this crow was moving its head a lot.

Five or six blackbirds kept hovering and diving. Even two blue jays joined in the ruckus, screeching in the background at all the commotion.

This went on about five minutes, then the other birds departed. A couple of minutes later, the crow lifted from the branch. It had murder in its eyes.

Birds Of A Feather / Loons Of The Water

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The surface of the lake is so smooth, the flow of the differing currents are clearly seen as shimmering streaks reflecting the sunshine.

Breaking through these jewelled bands, like shadows over unrecognized borders, are three loons. Two black-capped Common and one red-throated.  They stray apart, become lost in shafts of sparkling water, and as unexpectedly re-appear further along the shore.

The red-throated loon keeps a slight distance from the other two. Usually, it is the first to dive. Dive and disappear so cleanly there is only the barest ripple to betray it.

The other two then quickly go without a sound, a liquid dive that leaves the water empty, save for the dancing sunshine.

And then a head.

And then two more bodies break the surface, far from where they went under. They move with an ease that makes them seem part of the water.

One of them wallows slightly on its side, then reaches far down its breast to preen. After a few nibbles, it rights itself and unhurriedly joins its companions.

They become a distant trio of sleek shapes, and disappear in the haze of horizon and glinting sun.

Happy Earth Day

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Happy Earth Day!
Except
(If I may intrude
With the slightest touch
Of a cat’s paw)

 

The Earth is NOT happy.
The earth has not been happy
For
Oh, let’s say,
Two hundred (200) years,
Give or take..
Two hundred years ago
(Give or take)
Is when Humans started
Fucking up the place
Big Time
(No cat’s paw here)
And all this is known,
And all this is getting worse.
(Everybody knows)
(That’s how it goes)
Leonard Cohen knew.
Though there might be
(Right now)
Just the slightest
Smile
On the face
Of the Earth.
For the air is getting better.
The water is getting clearer.
And animals
(Yes, Homo sapiens sapiens included)
Breathe a little easier.
Do we thank
The killer virus
For shutting down
The killer economy?
Or
Will we,
In celebration,
Have a killer flight
On a killer air plane?
Or
Take a killer cruise
On a killer
Cruise ship?
That cat’s paw
Has claws.

Venus and the Moon Shine Down at End Times

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What sights indeed are these
 
That turn all tunes to dirges
 
And make the moon attempt to spear
 
Venus with a protective hook
 
To keep it
 
Protected
 
And safe
(photo NASA)

Trump And Death Walk Into A Bar

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~ Donald, you’re making my work easier.
 
~ It’s good for the economy.
 
~ Oh, I do love money. It’s great fuel for my business.
 
~ What’s good for business is good for the country. Believe me!
 
~ Oh, Donald – I believe everything you say.
 
~ You do?
 
~ Yes.  Death be not proud.
 
~ Aren’t you supposed to be on a horse?
 
~ Pestilence rode on ahead, and the other two went with him.
 
~ Scary guys. Very spooky.
 
~ Pestilence is preparing the way.
 
~ Ah, it isn’t that bad.
 
~ You know better, Donald.
 
~ Yeh. But I am a bit worried.
 
~ Why?
 
~ What if you guys kill off too many of the dupes who voted for me?
 
~ You’re afraid to lose the election?
 
~ Nah – that part is a bore. A snoozer.
 
~ Then what?
 
~ Buddy can’t buy my shit if he’s dead.

Black Death and End Times

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Their world was ending.

They knew that from the toll of the church bells. They knew that from the stink of death. They knew that from the carts of seeping corpses being pushed through the streets. It was The Terrible Pox.

The Black Death.

Heat made the stink worse. The screams themselves became more terrible in the summer heat. Screams caused by the boils, and the black blood flowing through veins. The fetid vapours rose, and the drivers of the Death Carts puked from the stench.

There was nowhere to go, and no one to help. The monarch, the nobles, the bishops, and the wealthy, all fled to the country. They locked themselves into grand castles, yet they still died. The doctors, who knew no remedy, also died from their futile efforts.

Neither the poor nor the rich, the young nor the old, women nor men, were spared. They screamed and clawed to their death, and rats fed from their bloated bodies.

Towns and villages became armed camps. Strangers were turned back at the outer limits. Those suspected of the Plague were locked in their homes, sometimes to be burned. People were clubbed, a few were shot, many were buried before they were dead. There was no sorrow, and no mercy shown to any who were a threat.

The living were frantic to prove they still had life.

They ate and drank and danced and fucked as often as their bodies would allow. They were afraid to sleep, so terrified of that fake death with the real all around. They beat on drums, rang the bells frantically, shouted and sang and swore and cried. They rode horses wildly through the streets, until the beasts fell from exhaustion. They pillaged the vacant homes of the rich, looted stores and wine shops, and paraded in the jewels and fine clothes they had stolen. Women and girls and boys were raped and sodomised by strangers and kinfolk alike.

They did anything for action, anything to prove they were different from the rotting corpses in the carts, which trundled through the streets toward mass graves. They played all the more, and when some fell slavering in their midst, they were kicked into the gutters and forgotten.

It was a time for witches and charlatans. People would believe anything, take any quackish product, if it promised to save their lives. Ghosts walked the land while crops rotted from neglect. It was the end of the world for those who knew no better.

The Power Of Women

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In my novel, The Fifth Corner Of The Earth (which I class as a contemporary history) five people, decedents of five people through the centuries, must come together to decide whether it is time to end the Earth – the proverbial End Times. But this time, one of those chosen is a woman.  And women’s power is described.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She went along the hallway, turned down a longer, narrower corridor, and came to her brother’s room.

“Markos?”

She knocked on the door, but when there was no reply, she called again.

“Markos?”

“Please, Atropos. Come in.”

She lifted the latch and walked into the darkened room. She went down a few steps, and crossed the stone floor, until she came to the thick wool rug which covered the area beneath the bed. Her brother stretched his hand along the bedclothes.

“It is almost time for you to leave?”

“In the half hour.”

“You’ve been troubled.” He sat higher in the bed. “How are you feeling now?”

“That’s supposed to be my question.” She laughed nervously.

“I feel as I am – closer to death.” Markos pulled at the bedclothes. “We must not pretend anything different.”

“There’s always the chance – ”

“You’re talking to your brother – your younger brother to whom you have taught so much. Of course I know of `chance’.”

Markos started to cough, and doubled over as the sound filled the room.

“You see.” He forced a laugh. “As if on cue.” He held up his hand as she came closer. “They would have to give me new lungs, to do any good now. There is no place for `chance’.”

“Do you want a drink?” She reached for the pitcher of water.

“I want to talk.” As he again sat up, he pointed past the water on the table. “Get it for me, please.”

She stretched and took the black envelope in her hand. As she gave it to Markos, the sun insignia on the back glowed in the dimness of the room.

“Thank you, Atropos.” He lay it on the covers in front of him. “And thank you for the honour of asking my council.”

“Markos, I – ”

“It means a lot to me.” He held up her hand to stop her words. “You still have confidence in the advice I can give.”

“Of course I have – ”

“Ah, my sister.” He spoke slowly. “The dead and near dead have one thing in common. They no longer need to be humoured.” He touched her hand. “I don’t want to be a weight on your mind when you’re away.”

“How can I stop thinking about you?”

“I don’t ask that.” He smiled. “I hope I’m always in your thoughts. That’s how I’ll keep alive.”

“Oh, Markos.”

“You feel too much, sometimes, Atropos. Is that part of being a woman?”

“I don’t know.” She forced a smile.

“I think it is.” He pushed one of the pillows more firmly beneath him. “I think it’s because you can bring life into existence – you can actually feel a soul develop inside you. Women have a touch of God within them because of that.”

Markos hesitated, his breathing more laboured. He looked at his sister intently, his eyes hot from fever.

“Men will always envy you that power. We envy you the power to create life, and the feelings it must give.” He smiled abruptly. “Our duty done, we really become quite superfluous.”

“You surprise me.” Atropos spoke softly.

“What have I got to lose by letting you know of my primordial envy? My fears and inferiority mean nothing at death’s door.” He looked away. “I no longer dread you will turn them against me, and look upon me with contempt.”

“Markos. I would never have done that.”

“I am like all humans, Atropos. I have doubt of my own worth held within me like an insoluble capsule. Your words can’t dissolve it – even the knowledge of death leaves it untouched.” He stroked his chest. “Death just puts it in perspective.”

“I don’t feel that way.”

“No, you don’t.” His hand stopped moving. “And I suspect the others whom you are soon to meet are spared this most human failing.” He closed his eyes. “I want to make certain you understand. We humans are forced to carry this sense of worthlessness around like a curse. Remember that when you decide about us.”

“But where does it come from?”

“That question … ”

Markos turned his head. He opened his eyes, and looked out at the blue sky framed by the small window. Sunlight would soon be streaming through.

“I am not going to live long enough to answer that question.” He looked back at her. “Come closer.”

“What is it?” She leaned over the bed.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He clasped her hands in a strong grip. “I’m prepared for what it to happen to me – and accept it. Tell me you do the same.”

“I know you are going to die.” She searched for words. “I’m not sure I can accept it.”

“Then believe me, my honest sister, when I say I am content.” Markos stared at her face. “Tell me that my death will not cloud your mind on your journey.”

“I’ll keep you in my mind and heart.” She momentarily lost her breath. “Always. My sadness won’t distract me.”

Markos sighed, and his hands relaxed. He then picked up the envelope which had fallen beside him, and handed it to her.

“Here.”

She took it, then bent and kissed him.

“Good bye, Markos.”

“God guard you, Atropos.”

[Image} http://i.pinimg.com/originals/fb/48/ad/fb48adcbaf691feeb5b0c9484c44ff7f.jpg

Circles Are The Answer – Let The Universe Prove It

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For some reason, this observation (from – perhaps – an unreliable observer from one of my short stories) has been the most popular post of the last couple of years. Yes – even beating out Kafka. So I’ll give it another turn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Circles are the answer.

“Just look at any circle and you’ll see what I mean. Of course, no one else is to know about the circles. They must be very stupid if they can’t see something so obvious.

“Yet, you get hints, don’t you – all the time out there. And in your own life – the way things happen so you never get anywhere. Never change.

“The earth, of course, and the sun – well, that’s something you can see. Either way you look at it, the one goes around the other in a big circle that takes in the whole sky. And the earth and the sun and the moon are round  – all circles in their own right. So you have circles which are going around in circles, if you get my meaning.

“And if you look further – reach out into the universe as far as you can go – they tell us that everything is going around everything else. Smaller circles and elongated circles which take in such large distances that numbers become forgotten.

“Now, this means that everything, eventually, comes back upon itself. The beginning is really the end. That’s what most people would think – and that’s where they make their mistake.

“You see, things don’t start by beginning – they start by ending. It’s the end which comes first in a circle, so, instead of going back to where it started, it comes back to its end.

“That explains it.”

 

(image) https:////g2.img-dpreview.com/5E9006CB86C3456BA85963CCC03183D9.jpg

A Storm of Wind and Rain and God and An Elephant

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From: The Elephant Talks To God

The elephant surveyed the remnants of shattered trees, the gouged earth, and the still turbulent waves.

“You know,” he said, looking up at the storm cloud hovering overhead, “A herd of us on the rampage have got nothing on you, when the mood strikes. You trying to tear down in one night what it took seven days to create?”

“Six days,” noted the cloud. “On the seventh … ”

” … day you rested,” finished the elephant. “You gotta be patient with us lumbering beasts; after all, you didn’t give us fingers so we could count.”

“But I did give you memories.” said the cloud.

“I know,” said the elephant. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“And this display,” added God, “Looks far worse than it is.

Natural forces occur to keep my earth in a happy balance. Life is already reviving and reasserting itself.”

“Could you not be a bit more gentle?”

“My winds must go somewhere,” said God. “As you already mentioned, even elephants go upon the occasional rampage.”

“I’ve never done anything like this,” said the elephant.

“You’ve not seen yourself from the ant’s point of view,” answered God.

[Image] https://www.hindustantimes.com/rf/image_size_960x540/HT/p2/2018/02/02/Pictures/_6e2719ec-0809-11e8-90ea-37dc70df54a3.JPG

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