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May 30th, 2009

The eagle has flown.

It happened in the wee hours of the morning.

Walking back from catsitting at the neighbors, I saw a baby robin hopping along in my yard, cheeping, flapping wings. Sure didn't look like a creature who could fly. I stepped within 5 or 6 feet of it a couple of times, and each time it'd hop hop hop off. Then I saw a grown robin, a way's away, with a beak fulla worm. I couldn't help but herd the little one in that direction. Grown bird and baby soon hopped closer and closer to each other, and lunch was passed on.

The ducks, who'd been waddling right up around neighbor Tom as he fed them this morning, did a beautiful synchronized fly-off a bit ago, skimming no more than 3 feet above the ground, quite horizontally, all the way down the alley, while the cats and I turned our heads to follow.

Long-time nest watchers watching my eagles' nest suggest Hidey (the baby fledgling!) will return to the nest, probably with a big crash landing the first few times, and hang around for a few weeks, furthering her education, if she's okay, and if she behaves somewhat typically for her kind. They also point out that she's been an only child, which is not typical, and her 11 weeks have been with no sibling competition, a possible reason for variance.

What we all speculate about the reasons and motives for the eagles' behavior is probably just as informative about us as it is about them. Lately I've been thinking on how they communicate with each other. Wordlessness. It's terribly attractive.

Karaoke tonight. I'm in an eight of wands time, but I don't know that that sensibility will come across in my choice of number. Maybe I oughta give some thought to what I might sing, but I'm more of a mind to wing it.


Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists


"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.


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