Nobody here but us cows!

"No. What if they're scouting for McDonalds?"

"Yeah, and what if the sky's falling in - Clara, sometimes you can be such a hayseed! Ask them already. Ask the one who keeps staring at us. He doesn't look so smart, but he does look friendly - well, harmless."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"OK, here goes... hey buddy, what are you doing in our pasture?"

"Shhhh... we're bird listening."

"Gesssh... you're right Belle, not too smart. . . You mean bird watching, don't you buddy?"

"No, I mean bird listening. I haven't seen a thing to watch yet - well, a quick glance at that Coopers hawk, but he was here and gone before I could raise my binoculars."

"So what are you hearing?"

"Me? Not much. Well, I know the chickadee there, but that's about it. These folks are talking about things like chipping sparrows, several varieties of warblers, goldfinches, vireos, and a pair of towhees challenging one another from one side of the meadow to the other. "

"Really. They hear all that? I always thought it was just background music."

"Well, I guess it is in a sense. But if it's a concert they're hearing, they not only can pick out the individual instruments, they know the players - and where they're sitting. Not me. This is all new to me. Fascinating, but bewildering."

"Yeah, well does it lead to greener pastures?"

"You mean will someone get rich doing this? Not on your life. They do this for fun. Seems like they have this ten-year project to keep track of the bird life on selected property along the river. "

"And no one pays them for this?"

"Well, I guess that depends on what you consider pay. We're here aren't we? I mean this is about as nice as it gets - meadow all around, woods on either side, a pond down at that end - and the river. What more could you ask?"

"Taller grass. Greener grass. More of it. Fewer cow flops. Brighter companions."

"You mean you don't like it here?"

"I mean, I see it every day. "

"Uh huh. And it wouldn't excite you if you ambled down to the river and saw a flight of five oystercatchers come by?"

"What are they?"

"Gorgeous birds that had I been alone I would have mistakened for laughing gulls. At a distance all I could see were black heads and light grey bodies. But as they got closer those black heads had heavy, curved, beaks that were bright red - and they flew right over us and gave us a terrific look."

"And did they tell you how to find greener grass?"

"No. They were the greener grass. Why am I trying to explain this to a cow."

"Because you're in my field and I asked. So what else is here?"

"Lots of stuff - and even more in the woods. "

"Oh yeah. I've been there. Nice place to get out of the sun on a hot day."

"And did you hear the red-eyed vireo?"

"I dunno."

"Here-I-am - where-are-you."

"Two feet in front of you. . . Geeeesh, Belle, you were right! This guy isn't the brightest bulb on the circuit."

"No, 'here-I-am - where-are-you' is what it sounds like the vireo is saying. "

"Go onnnn!"

"Like the ovenbird - teacher-teacher-teacher. "

"Teacher? Is there a school in the woods?"

"No - that's just the way the ovenbird sounds. Though some say it's 'chertee-chertee-chertee' - guess that's the dyslexic variety."

"If you say so. I suppose that's what passes for humor among humans?"

"Well surely you noticed that piercing cry of the acadian flycatcher?'

"Surely I didn't. What did it pierce."

"The woods. They're heavy, they're thick and they absorb sound. The acadian flycatcher lives in deep woods. So while he's just a little guy, he's developed one heck of a voice. "

"Never heard him."

"Well, I guess he's kinda unusual."

"But had you ever heard him before?"

"No. Yes. Well, I don't know. I'm just learning. It's all like background music to me."

"Like they play in elevators?"

"What would you know about elevators? You're a cow."

"Oh that's right. Get snobby with me."

"No - I just mean if you're really alive you hear these things. You get excited. You let every moment tickle you. You appreciate the miracle in the sudden sound of a dove's rapid wing beat as it takes off, startled. And you stand silently in awe as the heavy, slow beat of the swan's wings passes overhead and you let the sound envelop you like a soft blanket. You don't have to look up. You can see them in all their majesty in your mind as you have so many times before.

"In the end we're pattern makers, you see. That's what turns us on - colors, shapes, sounds, that fall into familiar, identifiable patterns. It's what we do best."

And I paused and thought and got a little inspiration because suddenly I didn't feel that far removed from my heavy, four-footed companion. I tried to explain.

"If you knew how very little difference there is between the DNA of a swan and the DNA of an ovenbird, or the DNA of a cow and the DNA of the self-congratulatory homo sapiens, well. . . then you'd be truly alive. You'd understand and know your place in the universe - the ultimate of patterns."

"So that's what you're doing in my meadow? Finding your place in the ultimate pattern."

"Hadn't put it together 'til now, but maybe. Maybe I'm just having fun. . ."

"Well, either way it's all right with me - just don't eat the grass."

---

Yes, this was another field trup with the Westport River Bird Count folks. (See "playing by ear.") This time Mike Boucher was leading and Betty Slade was recording finds - and it was just as fantastic as the first trip. Can't wait until next month.

Meanwhile, if you have Quicktime installed you can get a 360-degree panoramic look at Clara and Belle's pasture, the surrounding woods, and river by clicking on this link. When you do so expect a long download time - and while you'll see an image pretty quickly, if you try putting your cursor in it and scrolling, you'll also see a black box with white grid lines at first. If you do, that means the image is still downloading. It's about 1.2 megabytes.

It will eventually fill up the box and you will be able to scroll horizontally and vertically and even zoom in and out a bit. Not great photography, but it conveys a little of the visual sense of being there. Doesn't show you the barred owl feather Mike picked up, or the flies gathered on the south side of a small building, nor can you smell the skunk cabbage we traipsed through, nor see the brooks and hand-quarried rocks deep in the woods where we spotted both the acadian flycatcher and the overbird on the same branches - and of course you don't hear a thing. But then, that kind of silent birding is what I'm used to.. . . and afterall, this is virtual reality, not reality reality. Or is it? ;-)

Posted by Greg Stone at June 24, 2003 12:05 AM