Spring Thoughts (perhaps characteristically inappropriate)

So today, regardless of what the calendar says, I consider the official confirmation of Spring. First I was on a busy street in Salem and I had to stop in a long line of cars because of the great number of Canadian Geese crossing the four lane road with their babies, all of them together in a line. Usually I would be rather irritated because the geese have to stop and honk at a particular car that they are offended by, and stand and flap their wings while my timeframe for an appointment I’d like to keep is steadily expiring. But this time I took great joy in observing the fluffy, grey, and adorable babies follow their parents all bunched together with their funny backwards-oriented knees bouncing them around, able by the sheer force of their cuteness and their will to cross the street to bring a great number of adults in large, heavy cars to a standstill at the geese’s own pleasure. So I didn’t mind watching these wonderful birds bounce their way across the street. And I should add that they were crossing from the little bird park where people drive in and pull over to feed a large number of the Greater Fowl in the Mid-Willamette Valley bread crumbs and sometimes (maybe) their children. The park is just next to the busy street, and a little stream or creek runs right next to it. And on the other side of that creek, the chain link fencing and razor wire of the State Prison. On State Street and not far from our own golden-topped Capital building. On the other side of the street, the Geese’s destination, was a grassy knoll in front of the State Parks Administration or State Forestry building, you know, some government conservancy type thing or whatever. Lots of grass and nature and water running around in front of it.

Later on, I am in my Aunt’s back yard checking in on a dog and I pause to look up at a songbird. He’s got a red-flecked head and he’s quite small but making quite a mellifluous racket and at the same time exerting himself, hopping and flapping all up and down a power line. Then I noticed that he’s surrounded by a veritable harem of “chicks” spending a great amount of effort to appear as if they are completely disinterested in this vulgar display of machismo. Yet these ladies, less flagrantly colored to say the least, dowdy to say even more, were doing nothing but listen and quite brazenly judging him. It turns out that all of his activity was focused on one particular bird at the center of his hopping and flapping. How did I pinpoint the lass? Well, at a certain point he stopped flapping and flopping and alighted quite deliberately on her back, straining his wings quite rapidly and ...bouncing right on her. Which she responded with a casual shrug, causing him to reposition himself next to her. My inner Voyeur being piqued, I continued to watch them. The male bird tried again. This second time, I observed quite scientifically, the female seemed to try and steady him, as if they were acrobatic birds at the Cirque du Soleil in the center ring. (Do they have the three rings at Cirque? I’ve never been.) So then this attempt, seemingly more successful than the first, ended rather quickly and I thought, “Is that normal for birds to be so fast? ...I mean, they do have short lifespans but damn....” Then they both turned around and looked at me alternating eyes at me, first the left and then the right. Actually, I think each bird looked with a different eye, one with the left and the other with a right and then they traded, never moving except for their heads. I felt like they were saying, “WhaaaaAAAAaaaat, it’s love.” They were kind of treating me like I was their kid and I had caught them. I got the feeling that nothing was going to proceed and I could personally hold myself responsible for interrupting the continuation of the Finches if I remained. So I walked back inside, determined to write it up.