Hey, sue me, but I just wanted to bump this thread again, cuz I like the notions I played with when I wrote it.
In a feeble attempt to justify this "spamming," I'll say that Kirk's bristling about his MIU history reminds me of the cult mentality of birds who have their own ideas about the caste system, group psychology, morality in close quarters, what a friend is, etc. Edg --- In [email protected], Duveyoung <no_re...@...> wrote: Re: Question regarding TMO view on Pets I've seen many animals in the wild, but it hardly counts as an experience of them -- why?, cuz it's hard to see their minds working without a long period of observation -- and the closer the better -- watching a grizzly from an SUV won't cut it as well. I like to get inside their lives. I remember, living on Glasgow Road, and letting my cat out and watching him entering the woods. A tiger couldn't have done it with more feline intent. A mouse or antelope -- doesn't matter what's being hunted, the hunter's mind is the same. That's why I love Meercat Manor and other animal series on TV. The psychological dynamics of any species can be a world-entered if one has the patience to project anthropomorphically again and again until the human-only flavors are dropped and one can see what one REALLY has in common with a species. I lived three years on a cove fifteen feet outside my window, and watched the micro-ecological play of over 60 species that I saw on an almost daily basis, say, about 20 species would be spotted on any given day. Mostly birds, but mink, muskrats, turtles, rabbits, squirrels, field mice, chipmunks, groundhogs, and dragonflies. All of these animals' lives can be vicarious thrillers that can match anything Hollywood sells. These animals are warriors each and all, and the tiniest finch will show immense ferocity if required. Want a deep thrill? Watch crows having a group meeting. See how four crows decide who is going to be the first, the "sucker," who dares to risk a peck at a dead-thing, then after proven dead, who shoves all the others aside, who thinks they're allowed to sneak closer for a quick peck while the top-bird is slavering down hunks, who waits on the sidelines forever until the entire pecking order has full tummies only to be able to grab a couple good mouthfuls before the whole murder flies elsewhere. Watch crows do this and become a believer in animal telepathy. Same deal for muskrats fighting it out for sex and territory, or minks racing along logs like furry snakes, or squirrels chasing each other up and down a tree until it's like a living barbershop pole, or chipmunks chirping as loudly as crickets with bullhorns. Want to know what it's like to meet an alien stepping out of a UFO, watch a dragonfly hanging around a branch tip for 30 minutes. Want to know how God's mind works? Watch a flock of birds wheel as one mid-flight with not a trace of signal-lag between the first to turn and the last to turn -- telepathy I tell ya! Small wonder then that we love our pets and see their minds with such intimacy. When my last pet died, it was crushing. I just cannot take such a loss again and haven't had a domesticated animal since, but the wild things take me on their flights, let me scurry with them, let me see their destinies unfold, and that has proven to be a spiritual instruction of some merit. Edg PS. Below another piece, written to Diane Porter the Birding Lady of Fairfield, when I was living in Detroit where I was feeding birds in my backyard. I describe a spiritual epiphany I had while watching starlings feed in the rain. Diane, You know, you really can't tell anyone about birding...the emotions are so subtle. I've been watching the birds here -- I'm putting out 15 pounds of seed a day to 200 sparrows, 40 mourning doves, one pigeon, 50 starlings, 4 purple finches, one downy woodpecker, one red headed woodpecker, two mallard ducks, ONE junco, four blue jays, four cardinals, one chickadee, one titmouse, and 9 different squirrels who do not fly so good but insist that they be fed. It is amazing how subtle my observations have become. I swear I know the FEELINGS of each bird. EACH one. And I am absolutely certain that they all know each other to a very intimate degree too....."pecking order" doesn't even begin to compass how well they all know each other, and I'm not talking about these animals knowing their same species' ways and means -- they know the psychology of the other species that hang out at "Edg's Eatery" too. I have four mini-tables, about two feet in diameter and two feet high that I put seed on. I move these tables around from time to time, and depending on distance between them, the birds will feed on each table differently. The closest to the bushes and trees gets emptied first, of course, but NOT if I put a can of dog food on it for the starlings, and NOT if, say, table one is so close to another, table two, that a squirrel eating on table two is able to jump from table two to table one. The birds KNOW how far a squirrel can jump, and so they don't eat at a nearby table, because they know that squirrel is coming there to get the sunflower seeds. Once the seeds are gone, they eat at the nearby tables! Amazing! If I change anything about a feeding table, then that becomes table four -- emptied last until it has been observed for about three days -- it might be a trap you see. The starlings will eat dog food in the hanging feeders that I put up for them, but they'll let the much more accessible can-shaped hunk of food on the table sit there until the feeders are emptied -- why? -- because the can is NEW and the feeders are absolutes which only vary slightly in appearance (by how the dog food is shaped inside them.) Amazing stuff. Once, I had an epiphany watching the starlings. These tables are only two feet wide, so there's not much room on them for starlings who fight each other more than an Irish family at dinner. They've got the pecking order down, and they see to it that any challenge to that order is immediately answered. But when the feeders are empty and only the one can of food is on a table, they're really pushed to their limits, because each one thinks he DESERVES a place on that table and is bound to discover if it is at all possible to adjust himself UP the pecking order by at least one bird. Now there's 50 starlings who come to our yard, but only about three can fit onto that table before a fight starts between them. They need about 12 inches of personal space which is maintained by them doing very subtle body postures to threaten each other. Get less than 12 inches between any two of them and they get a lot more obvious -- squawks and open mouths and wings spreading, but if only three or four are on the table, they're pretty subtle, but you can tell, YOU CAN TELL, that they're huffin' and puffin' in their little birdy ways. Now the above is standard for days when only seeds are there for the starlings....four bird max on a table. But, when only a single can of dog food is on the table and the feeders are empty, then the rules get rewritten. Scarcity seems to make them all braver, and funnily enough, more compromising.....if only by default. Here's how it works: The big guys come flying in after the hungrier-braver guys have started eating. The big guys shoo away the "early adopters" who proved the food wasn't dangerous. But, because there's 50 birds, each with two eyes on the only food in town (as far as their emotions are concerned -- immediacy precludes searching for food elsewhere, and they all go into this mode that is like "this is the only food in the universe left." You get, say, about 10 birds who all think they can muscle in on that table -- the pecking order be damned! So down they come, and at first, the biggest four bullies squawk and flap themselves sick to keep the six other semi-bullies away, but the number 10 - 20 birds (who are all around on the ground looking for scraps flung off of the table in the battles and feeding frenzy going on on the table) take advantage of the fighting and fly up to the table and land on the very very very edge of the table and wait there until a scrap fly outwards from the center or they see a chance to dart in while two bullies are fighting and thus get a beakful without getting pecked. And they're very good at this darting. Now the bullies see that they're getting ripped off, and they STOP FIGHTING so that they can have time to eat. Amazing! Suddenly a phase transition occurs and there's up to 20 birds on this small table eating EXACTLY LIKE you've seen sharks eating on a National Geographic feeding frenzy clip. Dog food flies off the table like it's being mowed by a Briggs and Stratten, and the other 20 - 50 numbered birds are all around the table pecking up these bits on the ground. The king bully bird usually stands on top of the dog food and pecks at what's beneath his feet. It is an amazing sight. A pound of dog food goes in about 10 minutes. Once, while it was raining pretty hard, I put out a can. Down they came. All of them soaked -- their feathers obviously matting up a bit, and it looked like each one was some sort of ancient cloaked warrior unconcernedly roughing it while feasting upon a fresh kill. It was no different from a pride of lions around a fallen zebra. If you remember the music that played when the chimps first saw the obelisk in A Space Odyssey 2001, you know the FEELING of those birds in that rain circle. Each a fierce fighter -- ounce for ounce a son-of-a-bitch, and all of them eating as fast as they possibly could....while the pecking order was "called off." Yet, of course, it wasn't called off, but was manifested differently in that it seemed like the food was "too hot to eat," because the lesser ordered birds would get a beakful and immediately back off because of the social pressure, say, one or two steps towards the outer part of the table, then change their minds and go back again while the getting was good. That's when I had my epiphany -- I was IN that circle, listening to that chimp music, shouldering against them as if I were 8 inches high and yet an invisible ghost bird witnessing their reverie, feeling the grunting lust of their chomps and stabs, smelling the carcass, seeing the karate precise placing of feet with everyone perfectly balanced, knowing that all minds were agreed and intending one pointedly, ignoring the rain pounding down and the wind gusts, believing that the pointed beak-swords of each would be used only for feeding despite their being flashed dangerously close to the tender eyeballs of lesser birds, and being in the ONENESS of the group's DNA as it was perfectly expressed. It was wonderful. I was an unseen ninja at their feast. I felt tough, lean, steel sinewed, intense, AND FREE. I am a strange person indeed to have had one of my strongest spiritual experiences identifying with a ravenous mob of carnivores. Edg
