Digression Day
The other day I pulled up in the school parking lot and watched a small flock of House Sparrows pecking through the grass. They were so cute. I was a few minutes early for class and didn't feel like scaring them all away. So I watched.
One of the first things I noticed was that male House Sparrows have markings very similar to male-patterned baldness; that, combined with their dark beards, makes them all look so old and distinguished. They look like they should have British accents.
Digression: I have a tendency to over-anthromorphize because I find animal behavior so simultaneously similar to and different from human behavior. Some human behavior is more animal than others, but for the most part, we can determine the probable motives of our own species. That is not true of other species, and I am continually wondering why that bird does always does that. In order to observe them fully, I have to find some common ground with the birdies, probably because of the direct correllation between my interest in something and its bearing on myself.
A Rock Pigeon flew over and sent them all (simultaneously--how do birds do that?) to the side of a planter. After a few moments they returned, one by one, to the grass harvest.
Digression: I don't see many pigeons in Stephenville, so it was odd to see several of them hanging out on top of the humanities building. I never really observed before how huge they are either. It seems like they'd have more meat than the other doves the hunters around here are so interested in. Dove hunting season looms, and all I know about it is that it keeps many of our otherwise assiduous young scholars out of school. I hope they have fun with their life-threatening toys.
Eventually, they finished up that patch of grass and flew away of their own accord so I didn't have to scare them. Their work was done.
Digression: Why did God make me the one whose concerns do not lie with finding enough food every day? Sometimes I think it would have been better for me to be a sparrow or a lily of the field; my faith should be like theirs, but they don't have the same burden of worries that always seems to choke it out for me. What if I don't want to pay the cost for a higher consciousness? Wait--this isn't an original thought. Back to Dickinson:
One of the first things I noticed was that male House Sparrows have markings very similar to male-patterned baldness; that, combined with their dark beards, makes them all look so old and distinguished. They look like they should have British accents.
Digression: I have a tendency to over-anthromorphize because I find animal behavior so simultaneously similar to and different from human behavior. Some human behavior is more animal than others, but for the most part, we can determine the probable motives of our own species. That is not true of other species, and I am continually wondering why that bird does always does that. In order to observe them fully, I have to find some common ground with the birdies, probably because of the direct correllation between my interest in something and its bearing on myself.
A Rock Pigeon flew over and sent them all (simultaneously--how do birds do that?) to the side of a planter. After a few moments they returned, one by one, to the grass harvest.
Digression: I don't see many pigeons in Stephenville, so it was odd to see several of them hanging out on top of the humanities building. I never really observed before how huge they are either. It seems like they'd have more meat than the other doves the hunters around here are so interested in. Dove hunting season looms, and all I know about it is that it keeps many of our otherwise assiduous young scholars out of school. I hope they have fun with their life-threatening toys.
Eventually, they finished up that patch of grass and flew away of their own accord so I didn't have to scare them. Their work was done.
Digression: Why did God make me the one whose concerns do not lie with finding enough food every day? Sometimes I think it would have been better for me to be a sparrow or a lily of the field; my faith should be like theirs, but they don't have the same burden of worries that always seems to choke it out for me. What if I don't want to pay the cost for a higher consciousness? Wait--this isn't an original thought. Back to Dickinson:
My Reason—Life—
I had not had—but for Yourself—
’Twere better Charity
To leave me in the Atom’s Tomb—
Merry, and Nought, and gay and numb—
Than this smart Misery.
Hmm. When you put it that way, maybe it is worth it just to do the best you can with the mustard seed you've got. That's what the birds do anyway.
2 Comments:
House sparrows really are fun little birds, even if they're considered a nuisance.
My little brother is rather fond of them: "Those are my favorite!"
Yeah, I like them too, especially when they hop around on parked cars eating the bugs off the grills.
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