Area Locals.

And…they’re all against me…

Okay, not really; but each animal encountered thus far has proven ornery in his or her unique way.

  1. I was nearly stampeded by a disturbingly stealthy sounder of wild boar in a clearing (where there was fire going) at like 5:30am; after some initial screaming and table climbing, my (much more outdoorsy) relatives came and essentially shooed the lot of them through our camp.hogs
  2. The local bird situation: We all know how I feel about birds…but I realize that I am in their’ territory so it’s not been too bad, all things considered. There is a woodpecker however, who insists on pecking away at the acorn tree right over MY head for hours on end, which is super annoying at first but you learn to tune it out. Acorn WoodpeckerAnd there are the California Condors, who fly overhead because they have a preserve at the Pinnacles; I had no idea how fucking ugly those things are in the face, wow…condor pinns
  3. A few Grey Foxes have been scampering and playing in the distance, one is much more curious about our camp than his mates.greyfox
  4. There are big cats all over the place – Mountain Lions and Bobcats, at least…and they have evolved into very ballsy beasts that fear no human. The curiosity trait supposedly akin to all cats is definitely present in the wild cats in this area; they keep you on your toes at all times.bobcatMountain Lion
  5. THE OLD SAYING “They are more afraid of you than you’re afraid of them.” DOES NOT STAND HERE.

In short, the local wildlife is engaging enough in collective behavior to render any trip out here to “relax” totally out of the question, which is fine with me – I have ADHD and PTSD so relaxing is an elusive idea to me under any circumstances.

 

 

 

We.

The weather has turned,
into a Rogue of Nature;
surprising us all…

the oceans standstill,
the deserts seeping moisture;
confusing our minds…

a wind with no chill,
a sun that shines ruthlessly;
burning our eyelids…

but the carbon-based,
sentient beings of “we”;
still staunchly refuse to see.

Taken Me.

Eyes closed
face poised in pleasure
tension dissolving from its hold
unwrapping the tightly woven coils
of muscles around the bones,
clothes on the floor
tan-lines exposed
hazy tendrils floating lazily
heaven bound
nobody to tell you “no”
fingers clenching
time hard pressing
against a passion
a love story
without the love
the smoothness of
a liquid glove
I breathe you in deep
all the way to my feet
excite me
I am yours to keep
until you fail to please
for now the ember
burns white hot in these sheets
no need to wonder
just be
I surrender
myself at your feet
take me under
besiege me
rough and tender
do what you may please
sweat spilled
droplets of evidence
of the elements
to your ownership
of my willing body
paid-in-full
push and pull
you leave me on my knees
I’m yours
to throw or to hold
you have taken me.

We.

The weather has turned,
into a Rogue of Nature;
surprising us all…

the oceans standstill,
the deserts seeping moisture;
confusing our minds…

a wind with no chill,
a sun that shines ruthlessly;
burning our eyelids…

but the carbon-based,
sentient beings of “we”;
still refuse to see.

Ten Examples of Empathy in Wild Animals.

  1. The pack of buffalo (or whatever they were) from the viral footage from Kruger Park in Africa;
  2. The Lion Whisperer;
  3. Christian;
  4. Post-Earthquake PTSD Pandas;
  5. An unexpected adoption;
  6. My kind of dolphins;
  7. A HUGE (but motherly) giant beneath the ice;
  8. The little nudge that made a big difference;
  9. Koko and her kitten;
  10. The Notorious Blackfish scene;

Thirsty.

He is angry with me,
iridescently,
he buzzes past my face,
a flutter for a pace,
he suspends himself, it seems,
right in front of me,
we make eye contact –
two little black,
sweet and innocent b.b.’s,
it’s like he’s yelling at me:
“Why don’t you leave?”
through angry buzzing,
of his lightning-fast wings,
he is little, indeed,
for a bird of his breed,
but I am taken by,
the look in his little, black eyes,
and such a show of bravery.
he is not afraid of me,
not today, anyway…
he just wants to drink,
and his fearlessness,
the buzzing messages –
that he communicates to me,
leave me no other choice,
but to respect,
the hum of his voice.

Blessings Everywhere.

Blessings Everywhere.

Blessings Everywhere.

The Blues

 Image

Yesterday, I saw a lone bluebird high in the pomegranate tree, apparently eating her own emptied nest. Upon seeing this, I immediately felt a kinship with the little, winged creature. It almost gave me the inclination to go inside and start taking bites out of my own reminders of my former life as a mom – to somehow find my own way to gobble up the residual evidence of my daughter’s days at home. I envied the bird for being able to erase the pain of such a life-altering flight; she must have been so proud and disappointed all at once to see the small, blue blur of motion as it fluttered into the distant sky on its own – finally after so much effort and concern; the mother bird must have been so torn on that day, the day that she later consumed the very twigs and fibers that her small family had been living in since September.

I watched…out of nothing more than my own curious and empathic nature, I continued to observe this odd avian ritual. Eventually, the bird poked and picked at the bunch of sticks until the few remaining in design simply collapsed and appeared to dissolve into the air below her. She bleated out strange and un-birdly sounds then, looking all around in a seemingly obvious desperation to understand why she ate her home; I couldn’t watch any more after that and went inside, getting myself lost in other varying household chore projects for the next few hours.

I’ve noticed since then, that the beautiful bluebird has not vacated the pomegranate tree since the demolition of her own nest; instead, she has taken to the very tips of a sturdy branch that juts out among the furthest reaches of the tree’s skeletal form – unnaturally exposed, but wanting to be apparent to her children should they happen to pass by in the frenzied high of flight. My heart sinks today as I watched her – droplets beading around and down iridescent, azure feathers slicked to her stubborn shape perched in the rainy grey world – cold and alone and rapidly losing hope of ever being anyone’s mom again. I guess “human” nature does not stop at the perimeter of our species’ existence at all…