One day when Lola once again lands on this satellite dish it may dawn on us what destructive fools we are to chop down food-bearing trees to erect useless instruments like these.|
Lola doesn't really care, and by right she shouldn't since the unlucky slob who is at home watching TV fed from this instrument and eating potato chips and drinking soda is missing out on the beauty of life in the open sky under the rays of sunlight and most of all in the wonderful company of her beloved mate.
Our latest little Stinker near Summer Stage.
Palemale spent the last few hours of the day at the east 79th Street park entrance where he caught a rat very late in the evening.
To all the innocent animals who lost their humble lives from the calling of the powerful voice of Nature; rest quietly and be assured that the burden which we still bear makes your situation one to be envied. To the loved ones which you left behind awaiting your return; know now that they are under the care and watchful eye of the Sun. The Wind and Rain and Trees and Stars are all pruning and fixing and testing and obliterating as They slowly tune the Earth into a planet of wonder for all the Universe to admire.
If I were to forecast a future for this magnificent work of art I can easily tell you which of us will be frolicking in peace and happiness and which will be obliterated without a trace.
There was a bewitching moment today in the company with a little girl squirrel at the top of Cedar Hill who had an insatiable appetite for raw organic walnuts. And why not? As she munched away her treat under the protection of a sturdy old pine tree I imagined that we were all alone in a world that had everything pleasing. I turned around in that moment or two and all I saw were pine trees and gentle sloping hills and large rocks with patches of blue sky and a Sun peering out from behind a mischievous cloud. I didn’t want to turn around a second time to risk seeing something which I wouldn’t like, so I closed my eyes and fancied that all there was in the world were free animals with blue skies and cozy pine trees set happily at the foot of gentle sloping hills with rocks and grass and squirrels with healthy appetites.
But it was my own fault for opening my eyes too soon and suffered the misfortune of catching sight of that dreadful white van labeled ‘Geese Police’ going up the East Drive with those poor dogs conditioned to perform such an unholy task of chasing away beautiful animals which live in such peace and harmony with the Earth.
My little fanciful world crumbled as the sordid images of earlier in the day came back to me. Images of the half dozen diesel generators blasting away in the Rumsey Playfield where some drug company is pitching their goods, of putrid park vehicles fouling the only precious bit of breathable air in this city. I thought of all the unwholesome personnel of the Central Park Conservancy with whom I had dealings and of their successful plot of cunningly taking over this beautiful park from the people of New York City to use it as a forum for advertising products and services for big businesses all of whom has the least care or regard for my little wild friends.
I looked up at the Sun and wondered if it really can see what is happening and asked myself if anything really matters enough to be concerned about.
I thought of all the false heroes I encountered throughout my life and whether or not the big pine tree in front of me would be just another one of them.
But in the midst of my thoughts that mischievous cloud drifted toward the Atlantic and the Sun lit up the needles of the pine tree’s handsome branches where my little friend sat so comfortably. By the gentle, caring way which that short branch held my precious friend I knew that big ole tree will never disappoint me.
Unusual to blue jays noisy entrances, this one hopped silently onto an upper branch of the very pine tree and gradually descended to a lower branch where she could affix an unobstructed gaze at my face. That gaze was short lived when, common to my bad habit, a little raw peanut suddenly parabolated into a dry spongy mass at the bottom of the tree causing gazing to end and foraging to begin.
The Sun must then know of all the injustices under the blanket of its life sustaining light. I reasoned that if it can make pine trees hold out gentle limbs for hungry little girl squirrels to rest, and if it can lead little blue jays to delicious raw peanuts in spongy masses--then soon those poor horses will be free, and soon this park will be rid of cunning land pirates and this little piece of earth which was spared the greedy grasp of Man will once again live up to its founding promise as a place where we can escape the perils of Progress and perhaps be reminded of who we really are.
All images photographed on Saturday January 26, 2008.
Little Red-Tailed Hawks 2008 Calendar