Twenty-Six Hummers Humming

One of my harshest blog critics really enjoyed my last hummingbird post, so I felt justified in writing one more, if anything new happened. Well, here it is. Last evening just before dusk, when the major swarming goes on, I was sure there were more than seventeen hummers at the feeder (17 being the old record). Now they are difficult to count even when ten of them sit sipping on the nectar dispenser. But with a little spacial geometry I was fairly confident of a minimum count of twenty-one. I even called my friends the homeowners to boast of my new record bird count.

Shortly after the call, I was sure even more birdlets had come in but how to tell, my quantitative needs were beginning to overwhelm my qualitative delight at being three feet from this quiver of hummers. Then it struck me, there used to be two feeders hanging on the deck, so I could install a second hook the next day and maybe tomorrow night.... wait! and even better idea!!

I filled the second feeder, I had the sugary brew ready for a post-dusk refill anyway. Then I just slide the screen door half way open and stuck my hand and arm out with the feeder in my palm. It took about ten seconds for the first hungry hummer to check it out, once he landed on the far side of the feeder, the side away from the big white tree it was hanging on, the hummer gates opened and soon I had five, then six, the seven birds feeding from the feeder in the palm of my hand.

With both feeders having static birds and one fluttering queue for each I was able to count first twenty then twenty-two and finally twenty-six verified hummingbirds at one time. With the math done, I was able to simply wonder at the tiny birds landing nearly in my hand. It was then that one of them decided that feeding slots eight, nine and ten (where my arm connected to the wrist bone), well those feeding stations were open too. He landed on my thumb and hopped up to the feeder perch. Again, hummer see hummer do. One than more would land on parts of my wrist and hand and make their way to the perch.

Eventually one of the hummers landed on my forearm and sat there staring up at the big white tree. I wonder what was going through her bird brain? I know what was going through mine -- avian ecstasy.

Catastrophizing

I have a couple of issues today. First of all -- catastrophizing is not a word. I am normally not against adverbializing, gerunding, adjectivization, participlization, izing, ising and generally expanding the language. But some of it just comes out as lazy language. Prime example: "Are you disrespecting me?"

No, I am not! I am, however, showing disrespect towards your behavior because you have not made the effort to learn how to speak. Back to catastrophizing, according to some lame brain academics. Catastrophizing is an irrational thought wherein we believe something is far worse than it actually is. This is apparently treatable and therefore can be billed to your HMO.

Now I don't want to be a cynic here, nor do I want to dismiss what for some individuals might be a disrupting influence in their life. Mental health issues comes in a wide variety of shapes, forms, sizes and phobias; just about as many as there are mental beings walking the planet. Here is my real issue.

You might have heard the term: catastrophizing in the last month or so, as it relates to U.S. combat troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. It seems that some of our soldiers are having thoughts that they are really in danger and that nothing good will come of their service in these foreign lands. Or what some mental health professionals would label -- rational thinking.

But, as far as the military is concerned, not correct thinking. These soldiers apparently do not have their heads on straight, so the U.S. Department of Defense has turned to psychology to combat this less than optimal mindset of its minions. The U.S. Army is planning to require that all 1.1 million of its soldiers take intensive training in positive psychology and emotional resiliency. Or what psychology professionals call Positive Psychology.

You should know that Positive Psychology is very controversial within the world of professional psychology. In particular, the idea that clearly dangerous or negative life situations should somehow be given a positive spin is viewed as the equivalent of brainwashing by some highly respected mental health professionals; particularly when such wisdom is dispenses along with psychiatric medication as is apparently the case for over one in six serving members of the U.S. Army.

Adding flavor to this mish-mash of military policy, the army has suggested that they have "40,000 teachers" able to train or retrain their 1.1 million soldiers. Those teachers would be the drill sergeants, always known for taking a deep interest in their students and imbuing them with a positive outlook on life and their future prospects. I am reminded of Jerry Della Femina's book -- From Those Wonderful Folks Who Gave You Pearl Harbor.

To read the full article on this bit of military brilliance, go here. And remember, it is always darkest before the dawn, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel and catastrophizing circumstances may cause carbuncles, cankers, consumption and constipation; however, it is often also a sign of sanity and therefore something apparently to be avoided.

My Life As A Perch

The hummers are now going through a full feeder (3 cups of water, 1 1/2 of sugar) every day, so this morning I was out filling up the sugary snack when one of the little fellows buzzed me. Now in the past I have had them drink out of the 4 cup glass container while I was pouring and many times I have gotten a chirpy lecture while I did the refill, but today was different. While I was up on the one-step to rehang the feeder, one brave bird came in to have a taste even before I had it rehung. He clearly emboldened the others because very quickly with my head six inches from the feeder there were six, then ten, then thirteen hummers all buzzing and slurping.

I figured they could care less about me, so I stayed in place and soon they were whirling around my head completely ignoring me. Not sure if you can imagine what that many buzzing wings sounds like but it is quite invigorating. For a few moments one of the queued hummers was so close to my ear that I was ever so lightly brushed by each rapid flap of her wings.

I was engrossed, fascinated and honored to be so close to the critters and then it happened. With a full baker dozen volleying for a place at the trough, there were always waiters. I have seen as many as eight settled on the rail drinking but there just isn't any more room. Generally four to six are actually drinking and another 3 or 4 are buzzing about waiting for a slot of open up. Sort of like the four o'clock change planes scramble at O'Hara.

Well there was one hummer hovering just at my right temple when he apparently decided he needed a rest but didn't want to retreat to the nearest pine tree. So he landed on the eyepiece of my glasses. A magical moment if there ever was one and he made sure I would be forever honored by his presence when he squirted some hummer guano on my shoulder as he flew off.

[Addendum]: I won't write another entire blog post on the hummers that would set off my more serious minded readers but I must add that this morning I was up around dawn to feed a demanding cat. I noticed that the hummers were out in full force and that the early morning sunlight shown directly on the nectar dispenser which meant in additional to just the sheer pleasure of watching and hearing the hummers, now there was an added light show as their wings picked up the early morning sunlight. I was watching fascinated when suddenly they exploded like a star going nova, the cat had jumped up on the deck. The entire charm of hummers had zipped up to a height of about 15 feet, forming a shell of birdlets. It took about a half a moment, for them to ID the cat as belonging and not a threat then they were back at the feeder. Interesting how "we" adapt, amazing what we take for granted.

What To Do, What To Do?

If there's something I learned about in life, it's that you have to stand up to bullies and assholes every once in a while. Because let's face it -- an asshole is not going to be less of an asshole because you call him/her out on it. However, they definitely will become a bigger asshole if you let them get away with it. --- Dr. Pauly

As I have said way too many times, the general arena of standing up to socially inappropriate behavior is a lot easier for large males. My own personal philosophy on generalized assholery is to ignore it unless the perpetrator will take such silence as license to continue. The exchange can almost be scripted:

1) Begin with behavior and associated verbalization that meets the criteria for inappropriate conduct. 

2) Ignore it.

3) Reoccurrence of behavior.

"Hey dude, enough already."

"What?"

"You're being a dick. You're annoying everyone, so just stop."

[insert key response here with or without escalating levels of bad behavior or attitude]

"No really --stop. This is not a debate. Stop now or go away, those really are your only options."

Part II: What do you do when someone you really care for goes off on a wild ass tangent with their life? I mean sure let them explore if the adventure is about growth or finding a new way or just outright fun. But what do you do when they return and are just so screwed up that no one can deal with them. 

I am not talking about drugs, alcohol or other addictive evils but more about a philosophy of life that just doesn't make sense to anyone who was there when they began their adventure. In my current particular case it involves a close friend who has late in life come to politics and now espouses certain views that while not completely out of the mainstream are being advocated with the fervor of a conspiracy nut.

Tolerance can only come with distance. The necessary distance means ending a relationship that I have valued for many years. I really don't want to do that but history does not always override current behavior.

Leandro Maciel, homenagem a Paul Gray Slipknot, 201

Essa tatuagem fiz como uma homenagem ao baixista Paul Gray( Falecido ) da banda Slipknot.

Leandro Maciel

The Water Vapor Channel

Just to wrap up a short series of posts on looking up to the heavens. The Perseids were really spectacular on Thursday night. About two-thirds of the sky up here in Northern California was clear, so I didn't have to go up the mountain to get a view. I also got a great binocular view of Venus during most of the early evening.

As regular readers know, I have a real affection for NASA space photography and in particular the vistas from the Hubble Space Telescope. I like to wander around the NASA websites looking for what those space cadets may have served up recently for our visual consumption. Here is my latest discovery from my extracurricular sky surfin': The Water Vapor Channel. These images come from the Earth Science Laboratories in Huntsville, Alabama.

What is fascinating about the water vapor shots is that you can see rain or snow a lot more clearly than just looking at cloud cover. Some clouds are just not as wet as others. In addition, you can make your own photo by putting in longitude and latitude; so when I go to the website I get a real time moist overview of the San Francisco Bay area.

There is also a link to an infrared channel, if you want to see some truly awesome shots of storm systems take a long look at them in infrared. The useage tips over on the left side make the site interactively a lot of fun.

Next post I will be back down to earth as strongly requested by several critical readers.

Tools or Words?

I tend to pay attention to synchronicity, which is to say that when recurring images or thoughts, phrases, songs, personages, situations, nouns, verbs, physical traits or other ephemera repeat themselves within range of my seven senses, I take note. Lately, there seems to be a debate, indeed a reengagement of a conversation about what makes homo sapien the dominant species on planet earth.

The two sides are quite simply: language or tools. Now obviously the answer is -- both! But that does not settle the argument, at least not in the academic circles of this circular universe. Today I encountered the following logic: when archeologists search for meaning in ancient human settlements besides human remains (bones) we typically look at cultural artifacts. Artifacts being the stuff we made. We made this stuff with tools, which are considered a higher order of artifact because they are created in order to create other things. With the exception of some primates and a few birds, we have no observable evidence of other species using tools and obsoletely none of any other animal creating a Sears catalog to desseminate their tools.

Now the language folks would point out that an even higher order of artifact is the written word in the form of books, scrolls, tablets, cave paintings and even remnants in oral traditions. I would add that when one of our historic or pre-historic ancestors innovated and build a better hammer or mousetrap; the culture was more likely to be transformed or paradigm shifted when the caveguy next door could come over and say: "How'd ya do dat?"

I brought this up because in a skype conversation last night, one of my younger but wiser friends offered that language itself is an artifact but whether it is higher or lower order is really irrelevant particularly because the discussion is taking place in language, which makes words both mundane and sacred to us and perhaps the debate ---- well . . . academic?