The birds act stranger still.

January 15, 2004

The birds act stranger still. The dog bolted up to all fours from a dead sleep and threw out one of those deep barks. It was a bark that said, “I’m serious and we have to act fast”. Generally I ignore most of her barks because if I paid attention to more than 5% of them I would do nothing else. I stood up from my studio chair and looked through the blinds to my narrow view of the lawn, the cherry tree and the columns of cedars that run up the other side of the yard. They were blanketed by spotty and undulating brown masses. It must have been a thousand starlings. Madly pecking at the lawn while others waited their turn in the trees. The drone of ceaseless rain had ceased so their cumulative squeaking could be heard through the double paned glass. Whenever I see these massive clouds of birds I wonder what bountiful food could be close by. At this second my lawn must be a Lion’s Club Pancake Breakfast of worms. Worms had come to Mecca and the street rats of all birds had followed. Starlings with their ruddy indistinct markings, tiny black bead eyes and sharp, slightly too long yellow beaks hacked away at the mucky turf. I did what any good dog owner would do. I silently opened the studio door and crouched with her behind the door to the outside. We were but two feet from the bubbling carpet of frenzied feathered gluttons. I whispered in her ear, “have fun girlie” and popped the door open. She almost went completely vertical with excitement but forward just enough to land in the centre of the thickest patch of birds. This 60 lb black hairy dog with long legs and plenty of hybrid vigour can easily jump high enough for her head to clear the top of my own head. The birds spread out into the air in a controlled explosion. It was as if a dump truck had been dropped in a lake filled with hockey pucks. Brown aerodynamic ovals shot up as if in a wave of displaced water. Like schools of fish this flock managed to remain equidistant each from each despite conditions that would precipitate high speed collisions in slower species. Oh...and the sound. The sound was as if one pair of 200 foot wings had thrust downward in one desperate push. After that one big whoosh of air the trailers of tiny individual efforts could be heard. The tidal wave and then the trickles of water tracing their own paths down through the rubble of the seaside town. I turned my eyes back down to see the dogs breath in the humid air and her rib cage moving in and out over that adrenaline soaked heart. She ran a fast lap, head up, around the yard hoping that she might get the chance again somewhere else nearby. She returned to sit beside me and look up at the same patch of sky the birds seemed to still occupy. When something is gone so fast your eyes can almost still see it. The instance of its presence hasn’t had time to leave yet and become memory. Its the pleasant side of shock. Nobody gets hurt and we get to see the beauty of natural action. Maybe there is more tranquility possible in the vacuum that follows frenzy than in any other situation. The worms are free to worship in safety. The starlings gorge somewhere down the block.