I trace the lines of the mask which names me21:46 Oct 26 2011
Times Read: 483
Twenty minutes ago now, the moon was new. About an hour ago now, I left the house (despite the cloud cover and patiently continuous drizzle) to make my observance.
I made my way to one of the tiny and out of the way patches of Waterloo which are little pockets of untended wilderness somehow overlooked by, or perhaps unavailable to, the endlessly efficacious condo builders swarming over the rest of the city. Despite rarely stretching wide enough to completely obscure at least the sounds of civilization, these little retreats of mine are completely untended and largely untracked; hundreds of people walk by them each day, and I severely doubt almost any of them have bent a branch aside to venture within. For most of them, I imagine the notion of doing so would be entirely novel and strange. But I digress.
I made my exit from the sidewalk (provoking the usual odd looks from other pedestrians), traversed a hilly stretch of scrubby growth, and navigated the slightly muddy inner slope of a hill sculpted out by the flow of a creek. There I crouched at the water's edge, watching drops of water collect beneath the leaves and berry bunches of the vines which huddled in a slouching pile beside to me, to enjoy a little peace as the eye of the moon shut behind the clouds.
Now, there is something we in the tracker community refer to as the concentric rings... it is the ripples and waves that run out from almost everything as the environment around it responds. Animals and particularly birds alert each other, often in a manner quite laden with context, to the presence of other animals (as well as people, changes in the air pressure, falling sticks...)... other animals repeat the alerts or modify their behaviour accordingly. The spread of information and response diffuses outward in a very real ripple effect of concentric rings, which, if one knows how to pay attention, suggest a great deal of information and appropriate response to the attentive. Often, because the many cues and signals are so diverse and dispersed, this knowledge will first manifest in a very intuitive, gut-feeling sort of way.
At any rate, in my stillness and fascination, I felt the presence of a predator move across the rings... lines of drops of water across the creek where a squirrel scampered to a higher branch above, abrupt rustle in the pile of vines as some other creature sought deeper cover, a sudden silence from certain birds... at first, I assumed a dog had accompanied the passer-by I'd recently noticed, but pet dogs are about as stealthy as a rutting moose and after listening uncovered no brash-sounding pawfalls, I soon abandoned that notion and thought little more of it, returning to my more general observance.
After I felt sufficient time had passed, I tipped two fingers into the water, symbolically painted my lower eyelids, and stood to depart. Luckily for me, my calmness of spirit engendered a calmness of stride, and I chose not to crash my way out noisily.
And as I came around the corner of that shoulder-high heap of vines, there I saw just on the other side, in the middle of the creek, the reason for that ripple I'd felt... a great blue heron, neck stretched high, looking at me as if to say "well, it took you long enough." These birds are gorgeous, reclusive, and notoriously nervous of people. I felt truley honoured to have been joined by one.
COMMENTS
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NikkiAidyn
02:18 Jun 28 2012
Herons are very majestic.. I often observe them when I wander in the forest behind my house. Alot of beauty there. You have the mind of a predator.
Joli
10:57 Oct 21 2024
I remember this. Loved walking it with you again, old friend.