Crows are high up in the eucalyptus trees, rocking back and
forth, making a racket.
4 birds, 2 each on opposing branches, cawing at the same
time, very loudly, a unison of screaming calls, and with each caw, each bird
rocks. Rocking pairs shouting at each
other.
They pause at exactly the same time, and then, there they go
again, as Reagan said in one of his debates, “There you go again.” And they do, back and forth for at least a
quarter of an hour. Feels like an
eternity.
What are they going on about?
I am out on the apartment complex grounds walking my cat
Nobiya on a leash for his daily constitutional.
He is hunched down on the ground staring forward, tense in his body, as
the sounds jangle both our nerves. We
stay rooted to the spot. I’m trying to
withstand the noise and find some semblance of peace, get to the quiet
underneath. I’m not sure what he’s
trying to do.
Then Harley, the Australian shepherd puppy new to the
apartment complex, comes out of the stairwell close to us. Normally Nobiya and Harley are respectfully
curious of one another. But this time,
Nobiya puffs up huge and screams at Harley, warning her off.
The Crows keep screaming too.
And still a hummingbird hovers over the highest reaches of
the eucalyptus tree and darts in quickly for a sip of nectar, just feet away
from the Crows, who completely ignore the tiny, swift, delicate bird, as they
rock and caw back and forth, big and solid and black on lower, thicker branches.
It is January 5, 2018, and so far 2018 has been a year of
action. The natives are restless this
morning. Downright riled up by the
sounds of it.
We don’t know what’s going to happen, but something is
definitely up, and it is up to us to make it something we want, to make it good
and light and powerful and happy.
On my Facebook feed, I see a post from YouTube of an Ivy
League professor of political science talking about how the problem in American
politics these days is the tone, how we treat those with whom we disagree with
disdain, deepening the divide.
I am no stranger to disdain, both giving and receiving, like
the crows.
It’s time to get off my high horse and plant my feet on
solid ground.
I tell Nobiya he is scaring Harley, that he knows Harley,
that Harley is cool. But he doesn’t
listen.
Even once inside, he doesn’t calm down, but keeps yelling at
the door, “Let me at ‘em!”
I tell him I have to go to work and pay for our home.
Don’t we all?
