Simple Things

 

Bird on the solar panels

 

There are more birds around for the past few days.  Maybe migrating through?  I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of Jays we have, I think they’re Pinyon.  Interesting that their name is spelled with a ‘y’ not with an n, with a tilde.  The Pinyon Jays, as you might expect, collect and eat the nuts of the Pinyon tree.  

 

Right now, there’s a woodpecker calling off to my left, perched at the top of a Pinyon.  I still can’t tell if there are two species of woodpeckers here or if one is a male and the other a female. And the two I've been seeing lately both are different in coloration and body shape from the pair I remember seeing here last fall.  Are they just passing through? Will they hang around for the winter?

The dog runs up the driveway, tail and head at alert.  He’s likely chasing a cottontail. There are many small ones in and on the edge of the yard the last few weeks.  When we walk past them on our way down the road, they freeze, just a few feet away from us, even when the cat accompanies us.  The cat is old and slow, though she's still an excellent mouser.  No match for a young cottontail, though. 

I see other bird types too that I can’t identity.  Some kind of small robust bird, that gathers on the ground.  Hummingbirds, not as many as earlier in the summer, but still a few, enough to compete for the feeder and to buzz and chase one another in what appear to be kamikaze flights that at the last moment veer away from our heads.  

I’m sitting about five feet from the seed feeder and the birds are bothered.  They want the seeds but don’t want to come too close to me. Will they become accustomed and eventually go for the seeds anyway?

We still have not seen any tarantulas, though there are many tarantula hawks.  There are burrows the appropriate size for tarantulas. 

 

A Jay tries to land on the bird feeder.  Quickly darts away with an annoyed squawk.  The pegs are too close to the body of the feeder. They seem to be learning how to balance while reaching for seeds from the holes in the feeders.  I saw one that was able to hold still and eat this morning.  Usually they have to flutter one or both wings to balance in place while they reach for the seeds.  I saw another that perched on the pole while the bird feeder swung back and forth.  Every time the feeder reached the point closest to it, the Jay would reach out and try to grab a seed.  It wasn't successful and eventually gave up.  They are clever birds.  I'm interested to see that they are eating the seeds as they go, rather than gathering them to store for the winter.

Now a bird with a tufted rust colored crest is hopping on the ground in front of the house, in the area where the ants pass through.  We've also seen the cause of the medium sized burrows that are scattered around the yard:  Spotted Ground Squirrels.  They, too, are enjoying the sunflower seeds and have made a fresh burrow about a foot away from the base of the bird feeder. 

I watched a nest of Harvester Ants yesterday. It seems odd to be doing such things while the Earth shakes, burns, and floods, but that's one of the reasons I enjoy it so much here.  I can choose to learn about these events and decide if and how to respond, but I'm not surrounded by constant cultural reminders of them, with my body suffering from the stress that comes from exposure to the 24 hour news cycle.  

 

I saw the ants coming and going from the main hole.  The ones entering did not always have a seed that they were bringing back.  I’m not sure why they were returning and entering.  Some of the ones leaving had small stones that they carried out and deposited away from the opening. Some of the mounds on the property are quite large, I'd estimate almost two feet in height.  Apparently the height is a clue to the age of the colony.  There are several taller mounds in the area, but they appear to be deserted.

 

They choose to build their nests in odd places. The ones I was watching are right on the main pathway between the house and the car.  There are other nests all down the driveway.  Their stings are nasty, the pain lasts for almost 24 hours.  Both the dog and I have been stung this summer and we take care to avoid them.  But as long as you don't disrupt their activity or get one caught in your clothing or shoes, or under your toes, they'll let you be. 

Harvester Ant Mound

 

Just now I see a shadow of a bird that lands on the metal hook that holds the bird feeder.  It makes the feeder squeak when it quickly takes off again.  I hear the flutter of wings behind me, either that one leaving or another who approaches and then decides to leave before it moves into my field of vision. The feeder is just at the edge of my field of vision.  If I swivel to see it better, I worry that I’ll scare the birds away. I could move my chair to face the feeder.  I’d have a better chance of birds approaching and seeing them do so, but then I’d be facing the sun and it would be glaring into my eyes making it difficult to type.  Life's little dilemmas.  

I've been trying to write more and to ignore the inner critic who always has something critical to say and who demands to know why I would bother.  I'm re-reading Natalie Goldberg for motivation. 

It helps me to when I see her affirm something that I know: Writing is a way of being in the world and when I am caught up in this way of being--that is when I feel that my life is most worth living.  

Importantly, this way of being happens not only when you are recording the words, at those moments when the writing is taking place:  

“When you are not writing, you are a writer too. It doesn’t leave you. ”

 For to be a good writer, 

“We have to walk in the world in touch with that present, alert part of ourselves, that animal sense part that looks, sees, and notices—street signs, corners, fire hydrants, newspaper stands.”

This way of being in the world, being a writer, is a way of valuing the world in all its details.  

“What is important is not just what you do—'I am writing a book'—but how you do it, how you approach it, and what you come to value.

A friend living upstairs from me once said, 'Natalie, you have relationships with everything, not just with people. You have a relationship with the stairs, your porch, the car, the cornfields, and the clouds.' We are a part of everything. When we understand this, we see that we are not writing, but everything is writing through us.”

And we need to ignore that part of us, the inner voice that encourages us to remain passive, to be silent and float along the surface of things:

 “Take out another notebook, pick up another pen, and just write, just write, just write. In the middle of the world, make one positive step. In the center of chaos, make one definitive act. Just write. Say yes, stay alive, be awake. Just write. Just write. Just write.”

All quotations are from Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones.