All rivers sacred

My people live together in ways based on the premise that human beings are separate from and superior to other aspects of reality – our rights valued more highly. It has not been so in all cultures. Our society, with its values, assumptions, stories, laws, flows of power and action, is based on this perspective.

We have lost sight of our place in reality – we live without respect for our context within the universe. We live out of relationship with the local environment around us. This is delusion, insanity.

One of my personal prophets, Thomas Berry, says, “So too every being has rights to be recognized and revered. Trees have tree rights, insects have insect rights, rivers have river rights, mountains have mountain rights. So too with the entire range of beings throughout the universe. All rights are limited and relative. So to with humans. We have human rights. We have rights to the nourishment and shelter we need. We have rights to habitat. But we have no rights to deprive other species of their proper habitat. We have no rights to interfere with their migration routes. We have no rights to disturb the basic functioning of the biosystems of this planet…. We own property in accord with the well-being of the property and for the benefit of the larger community as well as ourselves.” The Great Work, Bell Tower, New York, 1999.

Can we learn to see ourselves in new ways? Can we learn to properly value other natural entities as having their own intrinsic rights in relation to our own?

Three rivers, the Whanganui, the Ganges, and the Yamuna, each held sacred by local people who live in relationship with them, have been assigned legal status and protection as a living entity, equal to that of a human being. There will be complications and mistakes in this new journey together, but this seems to be an important  awaking, baby steps toward sanity and healing.

New Zealand River Granted Same Legal Rights As Human Being, Guardian, March 16, 2017

India court gives sacred Ganges and Yamuna rivers human status, BBC, March 21, 2017

 

Goose Moon

I read earlier this year that the full moon names you commonly hear originate from First Nations tribes located around what is now the New England area.* Since these wouldn’t reflect my local season patterns, this year I am looking at the Cree moon names in comparison, to see if they more accurately reflect my local weather experience.

I had my doubts about this month – the Goose Moon, judging it to be a month too early for this far north, but lo and behold, what did I hear today but a pair of geese honking overhead! Another sighting at a small lake in another part of the city. The geese have indeed arrived this moon.

Ultimately I intend to create a set of moon names of my own, locally and culturally relevant.

This afternoon a chickadee fluttered up to a decorative birdhouse in our yard from the previous owners and peered inside clucking contentedly in a comfortable, at-home sort of way. I quickly chased the little one away and promptly took all three birdhouses down to prevent them from making a grave error in judgement – another year a chickadee family met with a disappointing fate in one of these decorative houses when a magpie found she could reach inside for a tidy meal…

As I took each house down, I noticed one of my own hairs dangling out one of the entrances.  I opened up the house with the previous year’s nest and found this cozy, soft, and downy nest tucked inside.

 

*I thought I read this on an Earthsky.org article from 2017, but can’t retrace my steps to it now…

Spring is Springing

Sun warm on my face and meltwater tinkling in my ear. Twitterpated chickadees flitter and flutter in a mating dance. Their clear, two-note call rings out sweetly through the neighbourhood. A pair of blue jays forage through the yard. Many days of snow and ice and cold wind still lie ahead, but the freshening breath of spring is here now, too.

Season of the Miniature

Summer solstice has passed, and the earth is reborn in miniature.

Tiny helicopter seeds on the manitoba maple are the size of my fingernail.

Acorns on the oak are tiny green pebbles.

Half-sized squirrels recklessly cross the ground near me, not yet having learned the caution of an adult.

Families of fledgling foragers feast! Magpie groups of about 5 birds array themselves in high bushes and low tree branches. The young, with their tell-tail stubby tail feathers, suitable for close quarters in the nest, still with the low raspy call of a nestling demanding food – always accompanied by the anxious adult shepherd with their long graceful tail & higher, piercing call.

A nuthatch came to the seed feeder yesterday, followed by another who watched from the tree, followed by a third – half the size of the adults. A young fledgling learning life outside the nest from her parents.

I’ve felt especially sympathetic to the nestlings this spring, as I cuddle close a young fluffy-headed chick of my own.

Avian springtime

Pelicans at Astotin Lake at Elk Island National Park yesterday – soon to move on. Redwing Blackbird nestlings, judging from the adults’  tenacious & raucous herding of a crow along the shoreline.

Merlins from our block mating last week.

Magpie nestlings in backyard spruce for the past 2+ weeks.

Downy Woodpecker nestlings in front yard rowan trunk for at least a week – first heard them Sunday. The parents have been industriously emptying our bird feeder for the past week or more, in that busy “I’ve got hungry mouths to feed” sort of way. The male is a little scruffy guy.

woodpecker nest

Woodpecker Nest Entrance – A Perfect Circle

My, My Blackbird, Oh my

Here is a guest post from my mother, a fellow northern prairie dweller.

Reading at the kitchen table, a movement out the window drew my eyes to the bird feeder. He’s so big compared to the usual visitors; the finches, sparrows and chickadees, that I’m startled. There’s a catch plate attached to the bottom of the cylindrical feeder and he clung to its edge, flapping black wings to keep balanced, his purple head shimmering. He has to stand upright so he doesn’t bump the feeder. He started circling on the plate’s rim, eyeing the cylinder up and down. Almost losing his balance once, he flapped his way back into position.  He looked around as if asking for assistance. “What’s the attraction here, boys, and how on earth do you get anything out of this thing?” Without doubt, the dainty little regulars were keeping well out of the way. Finally he looked closer at the holes and peered in with one eye. Hesitating, he scanned around, then poked in an experimental first try. He snagged a large seed and dropped it. Not to his taste apparently. After three more tries, he finally swallowed his catch, a small seed, and flew away. Perhaps he was disgruntled at such paltry earnings, or maybe his legs were tiring of the awkward position. His selective picking reminded me of a different style of feeding by blackbirds at a different time of year.

Blackbird2

Last summer the blackbirds visited the birdfeeder often. In early summer it was obvious they were feeding a family. They launched onto the catch plate and plunged at the holes with desperation, grasping and swallowing great mouthfuls with no regard for what they caught. It all went down the throat and after loading up as much as they could hold, they’d bolt off; a frantic pace to satisfy a growing, demanding brood. 

Without ever seeing a nest, I knew when the young had left to fend for themselves. After a couple of weeks of wild feeding, the adults assumed a much calmer demeanor, cruising in casually to the feeder. They scanned it carefully like experienced connoisseurs and then withdrew a couple of chosen seeds before lazily spreading wings for another favorite diner on their route. I wonder if our new friend of this morning knows the future ahead of him.

Raid

marauder and defender

This morning a raven, or very large crow, visited my neighbour – the magpie nest. It was accompanied by an entourage of one or two smaller crows. A dozen magpies gathered to drive it away, although their efforts seemed to be ineffectual. The raven was not intimidated and settled at the side of the nest. Magpie nests are hooded, which must make them easier to defend – buying the defenders some time to drive the intruder away. The raven wasn’t deterred, and moving aside a branch from the top of the nest, plunged its beak into the nest several times.

After the raven flew away, mama magpie checked the nest, then gently shooed the magpie warriors away from her nest. The pair hung around the nest afterward, occasionally flying to it to peer inside.

A couple of hours later the raven returned. Instantly nearly 20 magpies materialized from nearby trees to defend the nest. The raven landed at the nest, then soon retreated this time… perhaps finding no treasure left.

Magpies will do a ‘take two’ if the first clutch fails. These two haven’t abandoned this nest – they’ve continued to busily tend to it throughout the day.