It happened this summer at least three or four times. I'm cruising along a quiet road by myself early on a Saturday morning, drinking in the air and sun. They are usually perched in a low bush -- maybe 5 or 6. Male goldfinches. I roll by their hangout, and they must recognize me. Except for the bike, and a helmet that would make a bald head sunburn like Darth Maul, I look just like them. I have on all black, and a bright yellow "breast" (easy now).
So these little guys all jump out of the bush and fly alongside me for (I'm not making this up) at least 200 yards. They bob up and down like poppers on big waves, but they stay with me. I have convinced myself that these birds, being pretty and everything, get harassed by larger, uglier male birds. They hit jackpot when they see a 165lb goldfinch. "Steve! Did you see the size of that guy? He'd make a crow crap the nest! See if he wants to hang out." Then they figure it out, and shoot off to the right.
Every time I go riding, something unusual happens. When something unusual doesn't happen, it seems weird. Most often it's just the person I meet mid-way through the ride. Cyclists as a group are friendly, talkative, and interesting. That, of course is true of almost everyone (if you ask them questions), but the bike-comrade factor is powerful. We have a common enemy: rednecks in pickups who hug curbs and yell profanity.
Today I rode past a huge potato relaxing in the middle of the road. He wasn't sunning -- there was too much shade. I really don't know what got in to me, but I stopped and relocated the spud to the side so it wouldn't get plastered. Why the hell did I do that? I felt embarrassed as soon as I got back on. The thing is a root. Was I actually trying to save a root? I suppose that's better than aiming for the squirrels that jump out in the road. I do that sometimes too. Go figure.
The paradox of insular language
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We often develop slang or codewords to keep the others from understanding
what we’re saying. Here’s an example (thanks BK) of the lengths that some
are goi...
7 months ago
2 comments:
It makes perfect sense to me, a potato has never done anything wrong to anyone (except make Dan Quayle look like an idiot). Squirrels are a mischievious lot. It is funny though, friend of tubor, foe of squirrel.
i loved the bit about the birds flying alongside you. they make us part of their flock. my bird tiberius, a conure, seems far more human and worthy of saving to me than most people or potatoes. and as a german/irish girl, i have a healthy respect for potatoes. i just returned from a brief trip to toronto with my parents, who live in georgia- where i grew up and they still reside. we native georgians know all about the not so insidious evil that is the common redneck. one of the first things that attracted me to the north was the impressive size of it's squirrels. in canada, they have black squirrels- bold, black squirrels that are more than willing to eat the grapes you just bought. i highly recommend a trip to toronto if you are interested in fostering a love for our bushy-tailed friends. did you see the movie Winged Migration? i was a bird for a little while when i watched that film. nice. i hope your flying friends continue to accept you as their feathered friend. the "mr. universe" of their flock and their last hope for salvation.
sorry to leave such a disjointed comment. you just touched on so many subjects of interest to me: potatoes, squirrels, birds, cyclists(more on those later)
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