Five For Lunch

                                                                                                                                                 

    Buzzards, Turkey Vultures, Chicken Hawks, and carrion crows.  These summer present birds in our skies are called by many names.  I usually call them “Turkey Vultures” and their flying amuses me each time I see them.  One can almost imagine what the wind looks like by just watching how their wings wend their ways through the sky.  They seem to be following each nuance in the air currents.

     One day I came across a single Turkey Vulture.  He had located a dead raccoon just a few feet from the road, landed, and was about to investigate.  Road kill is a common thing in the rural areas of this country.  These birds are one way the ecosystem deals with the abundance of no longer living animals.  Research has shown each one of these big black birds will eat over one hundred pounds of carrion each year.  I just noticed the Turkey Vulture and assumed he would go about his natural task.

     It must have been about one half hour later when I had to return by the same path.  To my surprise there were now five Turkey Vultures around the expired Raccoon.  It was as if they were sitting around a table, equally spaced along the circumference.  Closer inspection revealed a sixth bird, only it was not the same kind.  The single sixth bird was a Red Tail Hawk and it was sitting on the raccoon.  The Hawk’s body language gave no doubt that he was in control of the masked feast.  Five poor Turkey Vultures could only sit patiently, at a safe distance, perhaps thinking, “Just wait, my turn will come.”

     I felt lucky to have witnessed this event.  Not only did I see the dominance of the hawk, but I was interested in the strategies of the vultures.  All of the birds were roughly the same size.  What did the hawk have that allowed it to claim the prize?  The thought occurred to me that the superior number of   vultures should have had something to do with who was in control.  Then I realized each individual was acting on its own capabilities.  A single bird knew that the hawk could inflict serious damage to body and wing.  It would not have known the group could work together to win.  I suppose the hawk knew it had the sharpest beak or the most vicious talons.

     The source of food, for energy was a strong driving force for all of the participants.  Each individual needed to survive and finding food was a key to that endeavor.  The choicest first meat or the dwindling remains were all important.  Every consumed bit added to the sum of energy gained that day.  That would be one explanation for the apparent patience of the vultures.  Their past experiences probably had shown them that a turn at the table would come.  The wait was well worth the risk, especially if just the right distance was maintained.  I even imagined that the hawk with a full stomach would be much less of a threat than when hungry.

     At this point I wondered what parallel might happen in my life.  What kind of food did I search for diligently?  One apparent need that I compete for is attention.  I require someone telling me, regularly, that I did well, or that I’m a satisfactory person.  I noticed a need to accomplish something.  As folks age it becomes more important for them to realize they accomplished something during their life.  When going after what is required to survive, I don’t work with other individuals.  Each effort is thought of as an individual one.  

     Some folks require more attention than others.  I can stay on the edge of the fray and let the attention predators feast on whatever is available.  Knowing what my capabilities are, and having experienced enough attention in the past, allows me to get by with less and wait patiently for left overs.  I try very hard to avoid being ripped into by those whose needs are greater than mine.  The need is still there for someone to notice what I’ve done. 

     One thing that appears important, when I think about these needs, is for folks to feel validated.  We all seem to require at least a feeling that something we did was valuable.  A step beyond this is to realize we also need to validate others.  The animals don’t realize they should team up or share.  People have the capability to see needs in others and, from our own abundance, supply those needs.

    

Heron Wisdom

      We have an interesting bird in this part of the country.  It is called the Great Blue Heron.  For me, it is always a treat to see one flying.  In fact, I enjoy seeing one poised motionless in a stream or pond.  They are large birds and very easy for the casual observer to spot.  Often they can be seen flying just above treetop level.  Herons flying have their feet straight back in a most streamlined position.  Their necks make an “s” shape bringing heads closer to bodies.  It appears as if this neck and head position is also more aerodynamic.

     Once, while bicycle riding with a friend, a heron took off from the drainage ditch below the road level, and flew across our path.  We were both surprised as this huge bird began to rise just in front and to our right.  The wing span appeared about the width of the road as it flew before us, just a few yards away.  This bird easily exceeded our speed and flew swiftly away.  I suspect it seemed larger than it was, but it was delightful to behold such a spectacle.

     One windy day, about mid-morning, I watched another peculiar flight.  There was a heron, already higher than I normally saw them, when I spotted it.  As I continued to look, it became obvious that the big bird was making large circles in the sky.  Closer observation revealed there was a gain in altitude as each circle was completed.  Then I noticed there was a steady wind from the west, and each time the heron swung its path into the wind it climbed higher.  For several minutes this circular maneuver was executed until the heron had attained a considerable altitude.  Then, as effortlessly as a feather floating in the breeze, this great bird stopped flapping its wings and began a glide into the westward wind.  As I contemplated what I had witnessed it occurred to me that it was a great energy saving strategy.  Rather than fight the wind continuously, the heron had used it in an alternating work / rest cycle to gain altitude, and then coast for an extended period.  My heron was out of sight in the western sky before it had lost enough altitude to need flapping wings.

     On several occasions, since seeing the climbing / gliding maneuver, I have watched herons flying into the wind at the end of the day.  I wonder if they know which way the prevailing winds are from.  Are they using their strength, gained by feeding through the day, to position their bodies where wind can provide energy for movement to alternate feeding places the next day?  I have seen this behavior enough times to believe herons are that smart, or that instinctive.

     An analogy, I can see, would be to use these techniques when faced with problems in our lives.  We could expend energy against the troubling situation in intermittent bursts.  First, we can try to solve the problem to the best of our ability.  Secondly, our problem solving efforts could be interrupted to analyze what has been accomplished and briefly rest from the strains.  This process can be repeated until we have enough understanding to glide into the problematic situation knowing our previous efforts have taught us how to deal with the situation. 

   When we are strong, we can position ourselves where we will be assisted in moving between future nourishing places, which help us grow, by the very things that hinder growth.   Problems can push us to solutions.

Fourth Dimension

Today it started out rain, the temperature dropped, the wind intensified, and we ended up with snow.  The snow covered the trees as it sometimes does.  There was kind of a fluff on each branch.  The edges were hard to discern, I really couldn't tell where height, width, and depth started, or ended.  Looking into a woods, the dimensions seemed to have changed.  I suppose since it was a rare phenomenon, this snow covered scenery, that my senses had trouble taking it in.  The view was almost unreal.  My mind tried familiar references to understand it and found none.  I knew the three dimensions; height, width, and depth.  A snow covered woods seemed to me as if it was a fourth dimension.  All I could consistently do was wonder at the beauty.

Skid Mark

Yesterday evening I was fortunate enough to be able to ride on a nice January day.  I passed a runner just as I turned the first corner from my house.  Riding my short town route, I saw a friend outside with his daughter, and stopped to say hello.  I was probably about one mile into the ride by then.  We spoke briefly and, as I turned to continue the ride, there went the same jogger.  We had both used the same route.  I overtook her and complimented her pace.  "I'm not keeping up very well, this is the second time I passed you," I said.  She smiled and we encouraged each other to enjoy the day.

My ride only lasted about a half an hour because the sun was nearly down before I started.  When I climbed onto the bicycle I was still in work clothes except for a helmet and a reflective vest.  This time of year one has to hurry, after working a full day, to get in any evening ride at all.  I suppose that is what the squirrel I saw was doing.  He was trying to get in just a few moments of food gathering while the sun was shinning and temperatures were moderate.

The unfortunate thing about the squirrel was that he was flat.  I could tell a car driver had tried to stop before hitting the little creature.  The poor four legged fellow could not have had less fortunate timing and managed to get under the wheel just as it was stopping.  There was a gooey skid mark, about two feet long, that ended with the flat, dead, squirrel.  I had never seen such a skid mark.  When thinking about the situation it occurred to me that both the driver and the animal were trying to do what they thought right.  The squirrel was hurrying to keep from being caught, and the driver stopped to avoid hitting the animal.  Sometimes even when we try to do the right thing the outcome is not what we seek. We still must try to do what we have learned is the right thing. Only when we discover it isn't right can we change.

New Year - Old Instincts

The year 2011 was full of so much.  Bicycle tours, travel with friends, work, family and gifts from God.  I could hardly take it all in.  Now there is another year to fill.  The first bicycle ride was a mere seventeen miles, but it had some fillers.  Robins flitted from branches to earth and back.  The westerly winds continued to be prominent. 

The second ride of the year, on January 2nd, was even better than the first.  Robins again, the sound of a jay, and several Cardinals.  The red flashes of these beautiful birds were uplifting.  The Cardinals often pair up and stay in this area all winter.  Today's ride had a community that was three pairs of Cardinals.  They seemed to be keeping up with me for a while.  Some flying ahead a short distance to wait and others perched in the branches next to where I was.  Short flights took them back and forth across my field ov vision.  I don't know if they were just curious, hoping I would flush out a bit of something to eat, or just playful.  It was a delightful experience.

The trail was covered with a small amount of snow.  My tires have enough tread on them that they were picking up the snow.  It packed between fender and wheels.  At one time I looked down at the front fender.  It seemed as if the fender had grown since the snow, molded by the shape of the fender, was being slowly pushed out the front.  This snow packing made it seem I was riding with my brakes on, there was so much resistance.  Snow even began to push out the sides of the fenders.  But, these were the same problems anyone faces when riding in winter snow.  After the ride I parked the bicycle where melting snow would not harm the floor.  Then I cleaned the frame and chain, relubricated the chain, and made a few adjustments.  The snow had produced some good excuses to maintain my bicycle.