balance

I desperately needed time in the woods today. Lately there had been too much time spent in urban centers, too much time spent in cars, too much plane travel, too much time away. I find it necessary to stay in tune with what the birds are doing. I find comfort in their activities. The simple beauty of their lifestyle makes sense to me. I hear the sweet rhythm in how they live. But when I turn my ear to my fellow human beings I hear erratic discordant noise. The unpredictability of it all sets me on edge. I watch the birds search for food and then I watch people drive faster and faster in metal boxes along strips of pavement. Where is the sense in that? Birds seek food and shelter, they travel to warmer climes for winter, and back north again to raise families. People walk through the woods, coarse and loud, talking crassly on their cell phones. We violate the places where wildlife struggle to make their homes, over and over in increasingly egregious ways. When I enter the woods, I think of it as a chapel. Here we are silent, here we are respectful, here we do our best to make a minimal impact. Here we observe quietly. The birds are easier to see in the fall as the trees shed their leaves. But it’s harder to sneak up on them, when you are crunching on those fallen leaves. It was a perfect day to be in the woods. The golden light spread through the trees and fell upon everything below. I soaked it up. I rested and recovered. I breathed deep. And then I strode unwillingly back out into the madness.

chicago

Chicago was failed planning, and thus subsequent testing of my adaptability. I passed, but not without a few pinholes in my psyche. Chicago sometimes made me question my desire to travel. Chicago was awkward networking with persons interested in alternative media and, hopefully, the quality indexing of such media. Goose Island Harvest Ale failed to lubricate the pipes much, but it sure tasted good. Chicago was actually full of many moments of awkward social interaction or lack thereof, thus proving once again that I usually think too much and speak too little. Chicago was gray, except when it was occasionally sunny. Chicago was the Harold Washington Library, nice but not what I expected. Chicago was a man complaining loudly on the El about delays: “Every time it’s apologies. We don’t want your apologies!” I wish you could’ve heard the inflection in his voice. It was impressive. Chicago was me stuffing my face at the Chicago Diner and then washing it down with a vegan milkshake. Chicago was walking along Lake Michigan. Chicago was the humidity of primeval ferns. Chicago involved a lot of walking, and some use of public transportation. Chicago made me wish I had my bike with me. Chicago meant finally making it to Quimby’s. Chicago was a cup of good green tea. Chicago was a board meeting. Chicago was this bakery. Chicago was spending time with old zine friends and their amazing son. Chicago was a Viking warrior on the Red Line. Chicago was way too big to see much of in two days. But it made me want to go back.

illegal dumping

This morning I tried to wrap my head around the concept of illegal dumping. Why do people dump trash illegally on the side of the road? Of course we all have things in our basement we’d like to throw out, but there are typically many different systems in place to deal with these things: bulk trash days, open hours at the landfill, private trash collection services, the free page on Craig’s List, etc. As I rode down one of the less traveled roads of my commute this morning, I came upon some city sanitation workers cleaning up a large pile of trash that had been sitting just off the shoulder for a few weeks. They were using a big dump truck and a tiny front-end loader. How many of my city tax dollars go toward this sort of thing? If you are going to take the trouble to drive to some deserted location in order to dump some trash, why not go a few miles further and take it to the dump? What I also find fascinating is that once one person dumps a few things in one spot, more items begin to appear almost instantly. An old stove is soon joined by a beat-up sofa, then a stained mattress box-spring, and so on. It’s like the first person’s criminal activity validates the next person’s. I want to interview these people and explore their reasoning. Is it that they have no problem with breaking the law, but they are considerate enough to keep all the trash in one sprawling pile as opposed to multiple piles spread out over a several-mile stretch of road? Or do they think that the trash itself has acquired squatter’s rights, and that this is now an official mini-landfill?

There are very few businesses on this road I ride on. One of them is a roofing company. Suddenly one day a pile of trash appeared next to their facility. Within a few days, the pile had grown quite high. Eventually they cleaned it up and posted a big sign proclaiming no illegal dumping, and warning that the location was under police surveillance. I was dubious about the potential of this sign to ward off dumpers, given that it was scrawled in childlike writing with blue spray paint, and that they gravely misspelled the word “surveillance.” Sure enough, recently I noticed that a discarded child’s car seat along with some other trash had appeared next to the roofing company. Soon these items welcomed a soiled mattress into their midst, and once again the pile has begun to grow.

another apocalyptic dream

This time it was a massive flood. I was not among people I knew. Everyone was really poor. I seemed to have some type of mental deficiency. I almost drowned several times. There seemed to be no way out. Every time I thought I’d gotten to safe ground, another wave of water came crashing toward me. Eventually I found myself up above it all with some others. A woman came and told us that there were Army trucks nearby to take us to safety. But that they were charging each person $10. The people I was with responded with snarky remarks like, “Well, isn’t that typical.”

Another dream: I was working at my old library. The director told me and a coworker we had to go down to these branches in the southern part of the county (my old library didn’t have branches), and perform a variety of tasks, including giving people their evaluations and teaching classes on some computer program that I’ve never even heard of. My coworker was given other tasks to do at other branches. I was like, how are we going to get all this done when I don’t even have a car? And how can I give someone an evaluation when I don’t even know them or work with them? And how can I teach a computer class on a program I’ve never even heard of?

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker

There was a family of Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers in the yard yesterday! Three of them to be exact. Sapsuckers drill holes in trees and lick the sap that flows out, as well as eating the cambium of the tree. Other bird species make use of the sapsuckers’ handiwork, making them a “keystone” species. Some eat the insects that are drawn to the flowing sap. BTS and I had just spotted a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker for the first time the other day while birding in the park nearby, so it was exciting to find them in the yard a week later.

derailed

I’ve been assaulted all week by a horrid cold that is reluctant to unhand me. Today I’d hoped to make the recovery needed to take a birding trip tomorrow, but instead I woke to find that the cold had triggered my asthma, which had been lying quietly dormant since early summer. Hooray. I haven’t ridden my bike since last Friday, and that was only a quick jaunt down to the post office and back. I haven’t commuted on it in over a week, and I haven’t taken it on one of my mandatory restorative rides into the country for two weeks. No wonder I am out of sorts. I have been sickly and stagnant and increasingly cranky. The antidote applied this afternoon was good mail read in the sunny post office parking lot. Just in the nick of time.

i’ve often thought about this…

From Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham:

“It was one of the queer things of life that you saw a person every day for months and were so intimate with him that you could not imagine existence without him; then separation came and everything went on in the same way, and the companion who had seemed essential proved unnecessary. Your life proceeded and you did not even miss him.”

clever nuthatch

Awhile back I reported on the Red-bellied Woodpecker that pecked a small hole into a tree in order to crack seeds open to feed his young charge. Well, this morning I saw a White-breasted Nuthatch grab a seed from the feeder and fly over to that tree, drop the seed in the same hole, and hammer it open. I wonder if the nuthatch saw the woodpecker create this little hole and decided to use it himself? Or if he just discovered it at another time while creeping up and down the tree in his usual manner. Either way, this was a fine illustration of how different species utilize the previous enterprising work of other species.

well, it’s september now…

and it feels like August, which seems about right seeing as August felt like September. Although it’s messing up my internal clock, which was preparing for Autumn. There have been a lot of goldfinches around lately, singing their sweet songs. We got a new feeder that accommodates even more birds. The clinging birds like it. I saw a squirrel out there and yelled at it to get off the feeder. It ran down the side of the house and started to go toward the nearest tree. But I had finally hung the squirrel feeder in the next tree over, and so I yelled at it to go over to that tree. It twitched its nose and then headed over, climbed up and found the feeder, then started nibbling on the super dense corn log I had stuck out there. Those squirrels are pretty smart.

This may well be my last week of employment. Ahead is the dark yawning abyss. I’m ready to make the leap into it.

owlish

While making dinner in the kitchen last night, I heard a great commotion among the songbirds in the side yard. It’s probably that owl again, I thought. Sure enough, when I pulled back the curtain and peered out the window I saw a large barred owl perched in literally the same exact place on the same exact branch as last time. Likely to be the same owl, I figured. The tufted titmice were leading the mob, as usual, sounding the alarm for all the other birds in the area. There is something about these tiny birds banding together in the face of danger that really gets to me. They are so brave! Here is a giant predator many, many times larger than they are, and yet they boldly confront it with no sign of fear! If only all of us humans displayed such bravado. Perhaps then there wouldn’t be so many downtrodden among us. It’s staggering to think of a world in which everyone refused to be bullied, and instead stood proud and defiant in the face of abusive authority.

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