Last night was warm enough that I kept the window open. Before sunrise I was gently wakened by the sound of small birds singing. What a beautiful way to wake up. As the light increased so did the volume and the number in the chorus. I indulged myself by sitting by the window with my morning coffee and just listening for a while. I could hear one of the cardinals with that sharp peep and the grackles making their squeaky hinge noises and others I am not sure of singing away. I am a firm believer that many of the ills of the modern world arise because the human race is becoming more and more separated from the natural world. I am most certainly not a city person. Skye was chattering away in the windowsill at all that prey so close yet so inaccessible. Of all the cats she is the real hunter. The others finished their breakfast and went off to chose their nap spot.
I don’t get to nap though. Saturdays are usually busy. Nothing is open on Sundays here except the major chain stores out by the highway and many places are also closed Saturday, the bank and post office to name two. So Saturdays are when I drive to the city or work on my storage unit or the yard. Sunday morning is the best time for the laundry. It’s always deserted first thing on Sunday. The yard doesn’t need work yet and my need for firewood is hopefully done for the season so today is a storage day. I would have preferred sun but it will be cloudy most of the day. Still, with temperatures in the mid seventies I will not complain.
Charli, our foster visitor remains apprehensive and still hisses a lot. I am not sure what upset her yesterday but she was upset. I have worked in a very large rescue shelter and dealt with a lot of cats but I have never had a cat do what Charli does. When particularly upset, one of her front paws comes out and hits the cage bottom. She is not jumping at me and it is not the normal paw swat I have seen cats give each other, dogs and people. It looks for all the world like she is stamping her foot! This morning she was calmer but still hissed when I reached in to get her food dish. Still, I can put my hand fairly close to her without getting growls. I know it will be a long time before she can be touched but I still routinely lay my hand near her and hold it still. She doesn’t try to get away, but she is wary. And she still likes to lurk in her den, so a good picture is not yet available.
I just saw a small bird dart into a knot hole in the tree in my neighbor’s yard. Nesting season must be getting under way. Birds are lucky. They don’t need to deal with skin flint landlords and anal retentive HOA boards. They don’t have to be hamstrung by vampiric lenders and mortgage companies. They are not seduced into building McMansions in the attempt to impress others or convince themselves they are a success. I spent a lot of time in the industry, working for a large developer and builder and for a property management company. I also did a stint as a general contractor. There is not one aspect of it that does not infuriate me somehow. Shelter is a basic human need and I think we could do better. But I can’t and don’t just blame the industry. They say the sprawling developments full of cloned McMansions are what buyers want and buy. I don’t doubt them. It’s the culture, the culture of believing possessions will validate you, giving you status, respect and happiness. You need that big house to stuff in all your stuff.
I would say all that was for the birds, but that is exactly what it’s not. Birds don’t strip endless acres, burn energy like there was no consequence, or think swaths of sterile, Round-Up soaked lawn are what the world needs. Bird homes are compact, environmentally sound, individual and creative in design. They are also affordable. Just the sort of characteristics I want in a house. Once again I am at odds with the majority. Ah well, I wake up to the sound of birds so you know I must be crazy.