If life is pressing in on you, and you feel the need for a mini-vacation, then a walk or ride down the Rock Island Trail is the ticket. Either direction, from Alta, towards Dunlap, or towards Peoria, where the trail abruptly stops at Pioneer Parkway in North Peoria where the new section will soon continue, is wild and beautiful.
Sunlight filters around gently fluttering leaves to make dappled kinetic art on the pathway. Wildflowers abound, serving as magnets to myriads of butterflies. These floating flowers of every imaginable color glide quietly by, infusing a sense of peace.
Birds are everywhere, filling the air with exuberant song. Indigo Buntings flash by, their tiny iridescent blue bodies reflecting the mottled sunlight like sparks of flame in the shrubbery. The ubiquitous Robins conduct their daily lives with their usual good cheer as they regularly cross your path. Woodpeckers, cardinals, ducks, swallows, wrens, and catbirds, are just a few of the birds commonly seen along the trail. During migration times, the greenway explodes with warblers and other migrants of every ilk, stopping by for a respite on their long journeys.
The scenery is diverse along the trail, encompassing everything from forests and ravines, to farm fields and meadows of wildflowers. There are streams, and babbling brooks with schools of tiny fish darting among the rocks. There are bridges to cross, and even a cool and dark tunnel to explore.
Development, however, marches on, and encroaches on the wildness of the trail. Subdivisions are popping up like mushrooms along the corridor, greedily pushing against the greenway both sides, squishing it into a tiny ribbon of nature.
Fortunately, they can’t erase it, and so the trail remains a slash of sanity through the artificial living space that is suburbia.
I know insidious sprawl will continue unchecked. My husband and I moved to the country to enjoy nature, and the peace and quiet of rural living. Picturesque farm fields, wildlife, and old barns were the backdrops to the gorgeous sunsets we could view from our front windows. Now, a subdivision, earth berms, and a maintenance shed for a golf course block the sunsets. The wildlife we enjoyed when we first moved here has mostly disappeared. The glow from a plethora of yard and house lights, vapor lights, security lights, and landscaping lights has wiped out any enjoyment of the night sky.
Since the old cliché, “You can’t stop progress” is unfortunately true; I guess the best you can hope for is to continue to find nature as God intended it, enjoy it, and protect it as best you can, as long as possible. It’s the best therapy in the world.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
You Decide
Most birds are amazing parents.
There are exceptions of course, such as the cowbird that sneaks in and lays her eggs in other birds nest so that they can raise them. In her defense this was a survival technique developed when cowbirds followed the buffalo herds and couldn’t sit on a nest long enough to raise their babies without them starving to death. So, technically, she is exhibiting good parenting behavior by assuring her chicks survival.
The male hummingbird is an absentee dad, but mom more than makes up for his boorish behavior.
But, like I said, most birds are dedicated caregivers, working day and night against great odds, until their little family can make it on their own. A couple years ago, one such dedicated parent made the local paper by defending his nest in downtown Peoria.
It seems that a pair of red-wings raised a family in a tree on Hamilton by the Caterpillar Inc. headquarters building. As the chicks fledged, dad became very protective, warning humans away from his family with loud calls and aggressive territorial protection behavior. For the people who ignored his warnings, he reinforced his position with a whack or two on their head.
Signs were erected warning people about the situation, and for the most part, downtown walkers were taking it in stride. After all, it’s a temporary situation.
However, one man felt the need to say to the reporter, “If I had my gun, I’d shoot it.”
How special.
Of course, he couldn’t legally shoot the bird on so many levels. It’s illegal to discharge a firearm in the city limits, carry a concealed weapon, or shoot a Migratory Bird protected by the US Migratory Bird Act, and I’m grateful for that.
Many folks think that the government shouldn’t interfere in our lives by enacting environmental, endangered species, or gun regulations. They think that people, or corporations, can be trusted to do the right thing. When I hear that, I wonder if a living, functioning, human could possibly be that naïve, and if they’ve lived under a rock all their lives.
Does anyone really think that a corporation, given a chance, would hesitate to drain a wetland, and fill it in, to build a plant or another ubiquitous strip mall? Would industry hold up their plans to make more profits for fear of causing the extinction of some critter on the endangered species list? Would people allowed to carry concealed weapons use them only for self defense?
“If I had my gun, I’d shoot it.”
You decide.
There are exceptions of course, such as the cowbird that sneaks in and lays her eggs in other birds nest so that they can raise them. In her defense this was a survival technique developed when cowbirds followed the buffalo herds and couldn’t sit on a nest long enough to raise their babies without them starving to death. So, technically, she is exhibiting good parenting behavior by assuring her chicks survival.
The male hummingbird is an absentee dad, but mom more than makes up for his boorish behavior.
But, like I said, most birds are dedicated caregivers, working day and night against great odds, until their little family can make it on their own. A couple years ago, one such dedicated parent made the local paper by defending his nest in downtown Peoria.
It seems that a pair of red-wings raised a family in a tree on Hamilton by the Caterpillar Inc. headquarters building. As the chicks fledged, dad became very protective, warning humans away from his family with loud calls and aggressive territorial protection behavior. For the people who ignored his warnings, he reinforced his position with a whack or two on their head.
Signs were erected warning people about the situation, and for the most part, downtown walkers were taking it in stride. After all, it’s a temporary situation.
However, one man felt the need to say to the reporter, “If I had my gun, I’d shoot it.”
How special.
Of course, he couldn’t legally shoot the bird on so many levels. It’s illegal to discharge a firearm in the city limits, carry a concealed weapon, or shoot a Migratory Bird protected by the US Migratory Bird Act, and I’m grateful for that.
Many folks think that the government shouldn’t interfere in our lives by enacting environmental, endangered species, or gun regulations. They think that people, or corporations, can be trusted to do the right thing. When I hear that, I wonder if a living, functioning, human could possibly be that naïve, and if they’ve lived under a rock all their lives.
Does anyone really think that a corporation, given a chance, would hesitate to drain a wetland, and fill it in, to build a plant or another ubiquitous strip mall? Would industry hold up their plans to make more profits for fear of causing the extinction of some critter on the endangered species list? Would people allowed to carry concealed weapons use them only for self defense?
“If I had my gun, I’d shoot it.”
You decide.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Waste Not, Want Not
Recently, my cousin received an award from a charitable organization, and I attended the banquet. The event was beautifully done, and the food was surprisingly good.
During the salad course, I noticed several people at my table letting their lovely bowls of greens sit untouched. The person next to me said, “There are funny things in there I don’t recognize, I’m not eating it.” Another said, “I don’t like purple stuff in my salad.” Others didn’t care for the dressing choices.
So, the people bussing the table collected piles of untouched produce and dumped it in the garbage pans.
The main course presentation was lovely, with mounds of wild and brown rice, and spinach-stuffed chicken arranged on china, with paprika sprinkled around the rim.
Again, my fellow diners let most of the food go untouched. Only two people at my table ate the delightful rice, which was well seasoned and perfectly cooked. I heard, “I don’t do rice,” “There are specks in it,” and “Yuck.”
Apparently, my table wasn’t the only one with a bunch of picky eaters. As the employees collected the plates, I was appalled to see the mounds of rice piled on the carts ready to fill the trash bins.
All I could think about was the news reports of food shortages around the world, and mass starvation. In some villages, children live on a cup of rice a day. There were over three hundred people at that banquet, most of whom didn’t eat their rice. The food in that garbage pile could have fed a third world community for a week.
I don’t know the solution to that kind of revolting waste. Maybe there could be a way for people who won’t eat certain things not to get them on their plate. Or, maybe banquets could serve family style, and if you don’t want something, you wouldn’t have to take it.
If people can afford to be so picky, then maybe it’s proof that as Americans we are used to excesses, and it’s no wonder many people around the world hate us.
In the United States, we not only produce an abundance of food, we waste an enormous amount of it. Americans toss out at least $75 billion in food each year, according to an extensive study.
At home, the average American family throws away 14 percent of their food.
I know I feel guilty about that every day. My husband and I throw away more things than we should, such as bags of lettuce that go to waste before we eat them. I’m also often sucked into buying things on sale we don’t need, and letting them go to waste.
I don’t know the answer, except to try to be more cognizant of our wasteful nature. As the old proverb says, ‘Waste not, want not.”
During the salad course, I noticed several people at my table letting their lovely bowls of greens sit untouched. The person next to me said, “There are funny things in there I don’t recognize, I’m not eating it.” Another said, “I don’t like purple stuff in my salad.” Others didn’t care for the dressing choices.
So, the people bussing the table collected piles of untouched produce and dumped it in the garbage pans.
The main course presentation was lovely, with mounds of wild and brown rice, and spinach-stuffed chicken arranged on china, with paprika sprinkled around the rim.
Again, my fellow diners let most of the food go untouched. Only two people at my table ate the delightful rice, which was well seasoned and perfectly cooked. I heard, “I don’t do rice,” “There are specks in it,” and “Yuck.”
Apparently, my table wasn’t the only one with a bunch of picky eaters. As the employees collected the plates, I was appalled to see the mounds of rice piled on the carts ready to fill the trash bins.
All I could think about was the news reports of food shortages around the world, and mass starvation. In some villages, children live on a cup of rice a day. There were over three hundred people at that banquet, most of whom didn’t eat their rice. The food in that garbage pile could have fed a third world community for a week.
I don’t know the solution to that kind of revolting waste. Maybe there could be a way for people who won’t eat certain things not to get them on their plate. Or, maybe banquets could serve family style, and if you don’t want something, you wouldn’t have to take it.
If people can afford to be so picky, then maybe it’s proof that as Americans we are used to excesses, and it’s no wonder many people around the world hate us.
In the United States, we not only produce an abundance of food, we waste an enormous amount of it. Americans toss out at least $75 billion in food each year, according to an extensive study.
At home, the average American family throws away 14 percent of their food.
I know I feel guilty about that every day. My husband and I throw away more things than we should, such as bags of lettuce that go to waste before we eat them. I’m also often sucked into buying things on sale we don’t need, and letting them go to waste.
I don’t know the answer, except to try to be more cognizant of our wasteful nature. As the old proverb says, ‘Waste not, want not.”
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Happy Poison Ivy
Have you noticed the vigorous and healthy crop of poison ivy that seems to be everywhere again this year? It’s beautiful, with glossy dark green leaves and huge clumps of berries. The ivy is looking better than most of the purchased nursery annuals and perennials that I diligently care for.
It’s all over my yard; flower beds, garden, wrapped around trees, even poking its scary little three leaved clusters into my patio.
The noxious vine has lined every walking path I’ve been on this spring and summer. I’ve seen it climb a tree and spread out so densely that it looks like a tree itself.
The walking path at Alpha Park in Bartonville has it everywhere back by the woods, if you look off the beaten trail. So does the Rock Island Trail, Forest Park, the bicycle path in East Peoria, and down by the Riverfront in Peoria. Your best defense is to be familiar with it, teach your children to recognize it, and keep away from it.
I’m lucky that I’m not very allergic to it. I get a bump or two on occasion, never a big deal. But, I still made a point to learn to identify it, and avoid it just in case.
If you think you’ve never seen poison ivy this severe before, you’re right. It’s a direct byproduct of climate change.
According to USA Today, another reason to worry about global warming: more and itchier poison ivy. The noxious vine grows faster and bigger as carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere rise. Also, with the warmer air, and the longer growing season, it has a longer time to grow.
A CO2-driven vine also produces more of its rash-causing chemical, urushiol, according to experiments conducted in a forest at Duke University where scientists increased carbon-dioxide levels to those expected in 2050. In addition, poison ivy growth surged some 150 percent in the carbon dioxide-rich forest plots.
Researchers suspect that woody vines, [including poison ivy] are going to multiply rapidly with increased atmospheric levels of CO2.
They don’t have to convince me, but recent studies in temperate and tropical forests already report dramatic increases in these plants.
That’s not news around my house.
Not only are the poison ivy vines a health concern for humans, but the increased growth of woody vines could dramatically alter future forests; for instance, by choking new tree growth. Woody vines can grow over the tops of large trees and shade out juvenile trees.
So, if you think that poison ivy is more prevalent now than when you were a kid, you’re right. If you haven’t noticed, for your own sake, you’d better learn to recognize it.
It’s all over my yard; flower beds, garden, wrapped around trees, even poking its scary little three leaved clusters into my patio.
The noxious vine has lined every walking path I’ve been on this spring and summer. I’ve seen it climb a tree and spread out so densely that it looks like a tree itself.
The walking path at Alpha Park in Bartonville has it everywhere back by the woods, if you look off the beaten trail. So does the Rock Island Trail, Forest Park, the bicycle path in East Peoria, and down by the Riverfront in Peoria. Your best defense is to be familiar with it, teach your children to recognize it, and keep away from it.
I’m lucky that I’m not very allergic to it. I get a bump or two on occasion, never a big deal. But, I still made a point to learn to identify it, and avoid it just in case.
If you think you’ve never seen poison ivy this severe before, you’re right. It’s a direct byproduct of climate change.
According to USA Today, another reason to worry about global warming: more and itchier poison ivy. The noxious vine grows faster and bigger as carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere rise. Also, with the warmer air, and the longer growing season, it has a longer time to grow.
A CO2-driven vine also produces more of its rash-causing chemical, urushiol, according to experiments conducted in a forest at Duke University where scientists increased carbon-dioxide levels to those expected in 2050. In addition, poison ivy growth surged some 150 percent in the carbon dioxide-rich forest plots.
Researchers suspect that woody vines, [including poison ivy] are going to multiply rapidly with increased atmospheric levels of CO2.
They don’t have to convince me, but recent studies in temperate and tropical forests already report dramatic increases in these plants.
That’s not news around my house.
Not only are the poison ivy vines a health concern for humans, but the increased growth of woody vines could dramatically alter future forests; for instance, by choking new tree growth. Woody vines can grow over the tops of large trees and shade out juvenile trees.
So, if you think that poison ivy is more prevalent now than when you were a kid, you’re right. If you haven’t noticed, for your own sake, you’d better learn to recognize it.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Let's have Another Cup of Coffee
Ah, that first cup of coffee in the morning is just what my middle aged body needs to get the ‘ol brain and appendages moving. Some folks would say that I’m addicted to caffeine. I plead guilty. I inhaled; then I drank it and poured another.
As a child I said I’d never “do coffee”, but relentless pushers in college beat down my resistance and got me hooked. I continue to feed my habit as a mature adult.
An enabling factor in my addiction is my church. Yes, I’m a Lutheran, and coffee greases the machinery that runs the church. The pots are perking at every function, and on Sunday mornings, there are so many cups and travel mugs attached to hands, they look like part of people’s anatomy.
After learning some disquieting facts about the living conditions of the farmers that produce coffee, and the effect huge commercial plantations have on wildlife, particularly neotropical migrants, our church, like many others is planning to switch to Fair Trade Coffee. As a people with a mandate not to purposely cause harm, to other people or the planet, we need to make the switch.
What is Fair Trade and Shade Grown Coffee?
Even though Americans are the largest consumer of coffee in the world, few realize that coffee agriculture workers often toil in virtual "sweatshops in the fields." Many small farmers receive prices for their coffee that are less than the costs of production, forcing them into a cycle of poverty and debt.
If the coffee we drink has the certification “Fair Trade”, it assures us that the purchase happened under fair conditions. To become certified, an importer must meet stringent international criteria; paying a minimum price per pound of $1.26, providing credit to farmers, and providing help transitioning to organic farming. For coffee farmers this means community development, health, education, and environmental stewardship.
Also, in the name of the almighty dollar, many corporate coffee farms converted to tree-free, bird barren monocultures in recent years to increase production.
The coffee plant evolved in Africa under the rainforest canopy and grows best in the shade. A traditional shade grown coffee farm can provide habitat not only to birds, but many varied forms of wildlife. As many farms turn into monotonous rows of intensely managed shrubs, they become wastelands that are devastating to wildlife.
Neotropical migrants, otherwise known as our familiar summer songbirds, depend on the rainforest to survive. They breed in the habitat and backyards of North America and then migrate south for the winter.
Some birds affected by the deforestation for coffee plantations that you may recognize are: Sharp-shinned and Broad winged Hawks, American Kestrels, Nighthawks, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, various vireos, swallows, warblers, tanagers, Indigo Buntings, Western Kingbirds, and Baltimore Orioles.
If a coffee has a “Shade Grown” designation it’s certified better for the environment.
Many outlets in Central Illinois sell both Fair Trade and Shade Grown coffee, and though it’s more expensive in some cases, you can find it at reasonable prices at many retailers, including, if you must, Sam’s Clubs. My personal opinion is that it tastes better.
So, I still plan on enjoying my coffee, but I’ll try to be a good steward of the planet and its people while sipping. It’ll go down smoother.
As a child I said I’d never “do coffee”, but relentless pushers in college beat down my resistance and got me hooked. I continue to feed my habit as a mature adult.
An enabling factor in my addiction is my church. Yes, I’m a Lutheran, and coffee greases the machinery that runs the church. The pots are perking at every function, and on Sunday mornings, there are so many cups and travel mugs attached to hands, they look like part of people’s anatomy.
After learning some disquieting facts about the living conditions of the farmers that produce coffee, and the effect huge commercial plantations have on wildlife, particularly neotropical migrants, our church, like many others is planning to switch to Fair Trade Coffee. As a people with a mandate not to purposely cause harm, to other people or the planet, we need to make the switch.
What is Fair Trade and Shade Grown Coffee?
Even though Americans are the largest consumer of coffee in the world, few realize that coffee agriculture workers often toil in virtual "sweatshops in the fields." Many small farmers receive prices for their coffee that are less than the costs of production, forcing them into a cycle of poverty and debt.
If the coffee we drink has the certification “Fair Trade”, it assures us that the purchase happened under fair conditions. To become certified, an importer must meet stringent international criteria; paying a minimum price per pound of $1.26, providing credit to farmers, and providing help transitioning to organic farming. For coffee farmers this means community development, health, education, and environmental stewardship.
Also, in the name of the almighty dollar, many corporate coffee farms converted to tree-free, bird barren monocultures in recent years to increase production.
The coffee plant evolved in Africa under the rainforest canopy and grows best in the shade. A traditional shade grown coffee farm can provide habitat not only to birds, but many varied forms of wildlife. As many farms turn into monotonous rows of intensely managed shrubs, they become wastelands that are devastating to wildlife.
Neotropical migrants, otherwise known as our familiar summer songbirds, depend on the rainforest to survive. They breed in the habitat and backyards of North America and then migrate south for the winter.
Some birds affected by the deforestation for coffee plantations that you may recognize are: Sharp-shinned and Broad winged Hawks, American Kestrels, Nighthawks, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, various vireos, swallows, warblers, tanagers, Indigo Buntings, Western Kingbirds, and Baltimore Orioles.
If a coffee has a “Shade Grown” designation it’s certified better for the environment.
Many outlets in Central Illinois sell both Fair Trade and Shade Grown coffee, and though it’s more expensive in some cases, you can find it at reasonable prices at many retailers, including, if you must, Sam’s Clubs. My personal opinion is that it tastes better.
So, I still plan on enjoying my coffee, but I’ll try to be a good steward of the planet and its people while sipping. It’ll go down smoother.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Happy Father's Day
Sonora Dodd, of Washington, thought of the first "Father's Day" while listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909.
She wanted a special day to honor her father, William Smart, a Civil War veteran. Her mother died while giving birth to their sixth child, and left him to raise the newborn and five other children by himself on a rural farm in eastern Washington State.
Sonora appreciated the selflessness her father had shown in raising his children as a single parent.
Mr. Smart’s birthday was in June, so Sonora chose to hold the first Father's Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.
President Calvin Coolidge, in 1924, supported the idea of a national Father's Day. Then in 1966, President Lyndon Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the 3rd Sunday of June as Father's Day.
Once, an educator friend of mine told me of a young male student strutting around the school and bragging that he was about to become a father, and there was “nothing to it”. He planned no involvement with the child, ‘cause he had already done the “important” part.
But, had he?
Is contributing your DNA to the procreation process the most significant part of being a father? Fatherhood, as a vocation, goes far deeper and is more complicated than just being involved in the conception.
Fathers come in many in many different packages: biological, adoptive, stepfathers, grandpas. Many non-traditional extended families have father figures that are uncles, brothers, Godfathers, or friends. Let’s face it, with fertility clinics; women don’t even need a partner to conceive any more.
So, what makes a man a real father? I know I have precious memories of my own dad that are special and help color my picture of what makes a father “real”. I’ll share just a few.
A Father Is Someone Who:
• Carries you into the house and puts you to bed when you fall asleep in the car.
• Gets dressed and goes searching for an all night grocery store at 1:00 AM because you’re throwing up and want some 7UP.
• Notices that you’re upset because everyone but you caught a fish on a camping trip. He sends you back to the camper to get him a cold drink while he watches your pole, then calls for you to hurry back because a fish bit your hook as soon as you left. It’s a small one (and sort of looks like one of the blue gills that were on his stringer) but you’re still happy.
• Firmly believes that no boy alive is good enough to date you, but is nice to your boyfriends anyway.
• Takes your training wheels off your bike because you want to ride like the big kids, then has to run beside you all afternoon until you get the hang of it.
• Drives you from the family campsite all the way to church for confirmation classes every Saturday because he doesn’t want you to miss class.
I hope my ramblings have sparked some memories of your own dad. If you’re lucky enough to have a “real” father and he’s still around, be sure to give him a big hug, and tell him why he’s special.
Happy Father’s Day!
Sonora Dodd, of Washington, thought of the first "Father's Day" while listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909.
She wanted a special day to honor her father, William Smart, a Civil War veteran. Her mother died while giving birth to their sixth child, and left him to raise the newborn and five other children by himself on a rural farm in eastern Washington State.
Sonora appreciated the selflessness her father had shown in raising his children as a single parent.
Mr. Smart’s birthday was in June, so Sonora chose to hold the first Father's Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.
President Calvin Coolidge, in 1924, supported the idea of a national Father's Day. Then in 1966, President Lyndon Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the 3rd Sunday of June as Father's Day.
Once, an educator friend of mine told me of a young male student strutting around the school and bragging that he was about to become a father, and there was “nothing to it”. He planned no involvement with the child, ‘cause he had already done the “important” part.
But, had he?
Is contributing your DNA to the procreation process the most significant part of being a father? Fatherhood, as a vocation, goes far deeper and is more complicated than just being involved in the conception.
Fathers come in many in many different packages: biological, adoptive, stepfathers, grandpas. Many non-traditional extended families have father figures that are uncles, brothers, Godfathers, or friends. Let’s face it, with fertility clinics; women don’t even need a partner to conceive any more.
So, what makes a man a real father? I know I have precious memories of my own dad that are special and help color my picture of what makes a father “real”. I’ll share just a few.
A Father Is Someone Who:
• Carries you into the house and puts you to bed when you fall asleep in the car.
• Gets dressed and goes searching for an all night grocery store at 1:00 AM because you’re throwing up and want some 7UP.
• Notices that you’re upset because everyone but you caught a fish on a camping trip. He sends you back to the camper to get him a cold drink while he watches your pole, then calls for you to hurry back because a fish bit your hook as soon as you left. It’s a small one (and sort of looks like one of the blue gills that were on his stringer) but you’re still happy.
• Firmly believes that no boy alive is good enough to date you, but is nice to your boyfriends anyway.
• Takes your training wheels off your bike because you want to ride like the big kids, then has to run beside you all afternoon until you get the hang of it.
• Drives you from the family campsite all the way to church for confirmation classes every Saturday because he doesn’t want you to miss class.
I hope my ramblings have sparked some memories of your own dad. If you’re lucky enough to have a “real” father and he’s still around, be sure to give him a big hug, and tell him why he’s special.
Happy Father’s Day!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
HUMMINGBIRD WARS
My husband and I have six bird feeders, three birdbaths, and seven hummingbird feeders on our property, but at this time of year the hummingbird feeders are the hot spots in our yard.
The feisty little flying jewels are everywhere. They buzz past our heads in raucous pursuit of one another, just missing us by inches as we’re outside enjoying our yard. They squeak as they suck down the sweet mixture in the feeders, fattening back up after their long trip north.
But, mostly they fight. They guard their food sources jealously, and face off all interlopers with all the spirit and bravery of a much larger creature. They fight with each other, bees, wasps, and other birds. Those tiny bodies seem to have no room for fear.
I once saw a hummingbird chasing an American Kestrel falcon across our backyard, all-abuzz with self-righteous indignation.
We often look at them and think that they could build up those all-important fat reserves faster if they didn’t spend so much time brawling. It seems like they expend more energy flying around like miniature demolition derby drivers than they’re getting from the syrup. There are plenty of feeders to go around and enough nectar for everyone, if they’d only learn to share. Every feeder could hold a couple hummers at a time, and they all could drink their fill.
That’s not how the petite pugilists see it. Instead of living in harmony, each bird feels the need to claim all the resources, and to burn up precious energy guarding them.
We laugh and shake our heads at how silly these little creatures are, but seriously, are humans any different?
The planet is big enough for everyone to live on in harmony, practice their religions and lifestyles, and share its vast assets. Instead, some hoard resources, guarding them jealously. Others brawl every chance they get, burning up more capital than they receive.
We squeak and squawk at each other, threaten and posture. We’re paranoid, territorial, and aggressive.
As the top of the food chain, and as an enlightened species, one would hope that maybe we had evolved beyond that kind of “law of the jungle” nonsense, and were a little more civilized than a hummingbird. Unfortunately, I’m not so sure.
My husband and I have six bird feeders, three birdbaths, and seven hummingbird feeders on our property, but at this time of year the hummingbird feeders are the hot spots in our yard.
The feisty little flying jewels are everywhere. They buzz past our heads in raucous pursuit of one another, just missing us by inches as we’re outside enjoying our yard. They squeak as they suck down the sweet mixture in the feeders, fattening back up after their long trip north.
But, mostly they fight. They guard their food sources jealously, and face off all interlopers with all the spirit and bravery of a much larger creature. They fight with each other, bees, wasps, and other birds. Those tiny bodies seem to have no room for fear.
I once saw a hummingbird chasing an American Kestrel falcon across our backyard, all-abuzz with self-righteous indignation.
We often look at them and think that they could build up those all-important fat reserves faster if they didn’t spend so much time brawling. It seems like they expend more energy flying around like miniature demolition derby drivers than they’re getting from the syrup. There are plenty of feeders to go around and enough nectar for everyone, if they’d only learn to share. Every feeder could hold a couple hummers at a time, and they all could drink their fill.
That’s not how the petite pugilists see it. Instead of living in harmony, each bird feels the need to claim all the resources, and to burn up precious energy guarding them.
We laugh and shake our heads at how silly these little creatures are, but seriously, are humans any different?
The planet is big enough for everyone to live on in harmony, practice their religions and lifestyles, and share its vast assets. Instead, some hoard resources, guarding them jealously. Others brawl every chance they get, burning up more capital than they receive.
We squeak and squawk at each other, threaten and posture. We’re paranoid, territorial, and aggressive.
As the top of the food chain, and as an enlightened species, one would hope that maybe we had evolved beyond that kind of “law of the jungle” nonsense, and were a little more civilized than a hummingbird. Unfortunately, I’m not so sure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
