Field note no. 9
on the trail with fledglings
Dearest ones,
Today our valley is not on fire as we walk through wildlands, where battle scars surround us.
The cool of the morning reminds us that days are starting later, growing shorter. And the nights longer.
The quiet is soon broken by—fledglings! These two young acorn woodpeckers balk and linger. A parent has just made a demo flight and turned back with loud, harsh calls, as in, “Come on, make the leap.”
These young ’uns don’t look the least bit tempted. “What if I tumble down, down, down?” They sit for a long time. We never do see them move, but we know those kids are all right. They will hang in awhile yet; they’re still getting fed. They have days and days in which to learn.
Onward to watch the ants, for whom preparation is all, perhaps one reason they’ve been inheriting the world for the last 100 million years.1 As they tote grass seeds underground, you can just about hear them singing the “oreo song” with the Wicked Witch’s Winkie Guard in the Wizard of Oz, so faithfully do they serve the commons.2 They’re astounding in their discipline.
Near the ant-cave, at a human-made pond, we find another fledgling. A young black phoebe awaits feeding from an adult who is on the opposite shore catching insects. The young ’un sits and sits as her elders do not.
All of this happens among northwest breezes with an ocean feel. Even though cool, they’re powerfully unsettling. Many folks live at the urban-wild interface, vulnerable to the fire next time. Winds heighten our awareness of danger and the necessity to prepare.
We’re not kidding ourselves. Our bags are packed, fire margins cleared, neighborhood aware. We’re holding attachment to place as lightly as we can. For the good of ourselves and the commons, we’re as prepared as the ants.
And, if called, we’ll be brave like these fledglings and leap.
À bientôt, with love and care,
“Ants are arguably the greatest success story in the history of terrestrial metazoa,” writes Ted R. Schultz in “In search of ant ancestors.” Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2000 Dec 19;97(26):14028-9. doi: 10.1073/pnas.011513798. PMID: 11106367; PMCID: PMC34089. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC34089/.
According to the Oz Museum in Wamego, Kansas, “The phrase to which the Winkies parade after Dorothy melts the Wicked Witch is a simple series of nonsense syllables: ‘O-Ee-Yah! Ee-oh-Ah!’” They are not singing “oreo,” as much as it sounds like it.
What a beautiful essay. The knowing can be exquisitely painful. Hoping for cooler temps and somehow, someway—water.
❤️ wishing for rain, safety, and thank you for these beautiful reflections grounded in presence, which is always a balm. 🌱