Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Hashawa Observations IN CLASS

There are two catbirds which zip above my head. I’ve chosen a small break in the trees to rest and observe. At first, I thought they were both announcing my presenc with their cat calls, but then I realized there were precisely two. What I thought was the catbird’s harassment was really them courting each other between two trees. They’re a beautiful gray color, the color of dark storm clouds, not mottled or patchy, but solid, like a steel guard.

In front of me stands the skeleton of a pine. The bark is starting to peel from the offwhite bones beneath like paper or dead skin, revealing the smooth wood that looks just like bone.

To my right, I hear a gentle whisper of a call which I cannot identify in the bushes. The two catbirds call in such a fashion that it is difficult to identify what the you-who sound might be.

And then there is a third catbird. I wonder if perhaps I had disturbing a next. They have me surrounded -one chirping incessantly behind me, another to my left and one to my right. I think if I listen closely I can hear a woodpecker in a tree top, but over these catbirds, who can hear anything? Is it just in their nature to harass? Are they Hashawa’s jesters? Are they the centries wom I must impress to observe another other natural occurrences? There’s no fooling them now that they’ve spotted me. I think they’ve even chased off all the other birds who might share my company. They’re getting so close, I think I might just start to take offense out their yelling at me.

I’m just sitting here, after all. I want to yell back at them as they scream and yell at me “HEY HEY HEY!” But if I do, I might miss something, like whatever it is that whistling a you-who to me. There are two of them -coming from two different sections. I think maybe they are tormenting me too, like some horrible game of marco-polo. I think they’re red-winged blackbirds, but I can only guess.

And then I hear a frog, but at first, I thought it was the growling of my stomach or a mourning dove, but it became clear it was coming from in the marsh. It must be a frog. And then there is another … woooahh—awooo… deep and low.

They’ve got me surrounded. I’d better give up soon or face the agony of defeat which constitutes as arms pocked with mosquito bites.

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