| birds | |||||||||||
| still under construction | |||||||||||
| i have this kind of totemistic habit of picking up feathers i randomly find. IMO the smudge fan you make becomes more personal with "found" feathers than ugly dyed storebought ones. i also tend to keep feathers in "arrangements" in the house. this started eons ago when i found an interesting chunk of wood with a hole in it--the only thing to do at the time seemed to be stick feathers in it. the fact that i also had a piece of petrified wood nearby (useful for past life exploration) may help explain acquiring my tribal tendencies. now i have a large gnarled root on my coffee table that acts as a prop for some long pheasant feathers. so here's a recent story: i have a group of mockingbirds who've been hanging around since last winter, mostly for the free apples left on the tree. one of them has finally decided to take an interest in me: to be truthful he's better at imitating my whistle calls than i am at his. but i'm kind of like teaching a parrot, only it's a wild mockingbird. he has a couple of good friends paying attention too, but they don't try to talk to me. now, i tend to get scolded by the main group because i am allies with the evil cat. they have made this perfectly plain. this got driven home when i found feathers on the back porch. yep, the evil cat struck again. fortunately they were not mockingbird feathers. (i have told nimue not to hunt the birds. i'm sure her excuse is, well, i couldn't find any mice or gophers, so... i have heard this before from her, that there was nothing to hunt. poor kitty. think i'll come in for my dish of milk now). anyway as soon as i find the remains i get dive-bombed by a swallow. he no doubt reports to the entire bird neighborhood that i'm an accomplice to the crime. (btw the swallow group normally flies low circles over me when i'm bashing up rocks for my tumbler. maybe they like quartz or something?). well, not a mockingbird to be seen for miles, until my feathered friend's best buddy showed up. he however stayed perched on a wire far away from the crime scene. well, i knew i was in for it. but i whistled the call my "friend" imitates. he repeated it back to me from a great distance but couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day. bad human, to be allies with their avowed enemy. fortunately i think the spat has mostly blown over by now--they're finally back in the elm in front of the house. but they all gave me a piece of their mind over the evil cat-- especially when she joined me outside. bad, bad human. my "friend" at least was halfway patient w/ me: it sounded like he was telling the other birds you have to make allowances for humans. we have a lousy accent apparently :P |
|||||||||||
| back to animal communications page: animal visions page: |
|||||||||||
| home | |||||||||||