Showing posts with label Bird Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bird Story. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Rio - Liberating You and Blue

Rio, the top box office draw over the last two weekends, is a story of liberation. The main character, Blue, is a large blue macaw and the last male of his kind. He was taken forcibly from the wild as a chick and raised in the U.S. by a caring human; however, he never learned to fly. Now 15 years old, he volunteers to go back to Brazil to meet up with the last female of their species, Jewel, who trapped from the wild and now residing in a large flight, is desperate to escape.  


 


Rio-movie_2
Blue and Jewel in Rio


 


These aren’t the only two characters who are trapped. The woman who came of age with Blue, lives a happy, though apparently solitary and staid life. She meets up with the Brazilian conservationist, who is caught up in his own narrowly focused and urgent need to save a species. The foils of the story, the “boss” of an illegal animal trade business and his two henchmen, unable to rise above their favela (slum) origins, are caught in a web of desperate business adventures that often turn to violence. A temporary member of their gang is an orphaned street boy, who out of necessity aids the trappers, and then regrets his actions.


The movie shows how birds and humans are not living the good life, except for the wild birds in the opening and closing musical number who joyfully dance and sing “Rio” in a jungle scene reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Their paradise is shattered when humans enter their realm and catch them, including Blue as a chick. We see the contrast of a beautiful nature without humans, and a devastated earth with humans. Reminding us of the movie Avatar, this movie screams “pop culture” in that it raises the question increasingly before us, “How are we humans to escape a future where we are so caught in our consumerist ways that we threaten all lives around us?” I don’t mind trendy movies at all, and in fact adore them when they help us understand who we are, especially in terms of parrot conservation.


I especially find Rio poignant because human ownership of parrots has tenaciously been before me in the last two weeks. The weekend the movie came out, I was amongst many captive birds. I was invited to be the guest presenter at The Avicultural Society of Chicago during a fund raising dinner for my conservation work (thank you!). After all day staffing a booth on behalf of One Earth Conservation and Lafeber Conservation and Wildlife while it snowed (yes in mid-April), we gathered in th evening to learn about the people and parrots of Latin America, and what we might together do to preserve the splendor of the earth. Though I never brought up the inherent tension between birds in homes and birds in their native habitats, many people did. It was on their minds, for they spoke of how much they wanted their birds to fly free, and the inappropriateness of caging their beloveds. I suppose they also wished that for themselves, for like the humans in the movie Rio, they too are trapped, each in their own way. They wanted to know what I thought of the movie, and I believe also, what I thought of their lives. 




Falls
Kaieteur Falls, Guyana


Their lives are in sharp contrast with where I had just come from, a land of wild jungles, indigenous peoples, and free flying parrots – Guyana. For the last 12 days I had been traveling in Guyana with Foster Parrots, a bird sanctuary as well as a leader in Guyana conservation. While in Guyana we saw amazing jungle scenes, replete with startlingly and awe inspiring free flying parrots. They might not have been singing to a calypso beat as did the cartoon birds in Rio, but observing them inspired awe and a sense of liberating joy, much like the opening and ending scenes in the movie.


 


Macaws-falls-4-cropped
Red and Green Macaws Flying in Front of Falls


 


What haunts us though is whether the real life trappers and resource extractors of the Guyana forests will win out. It has already in fact happened at least with one macaw species much like the movie depicts. The Spix Macaw, also all blue in color, used to fly over the northeastern landscapes of Brazil. Their numbers declined due to trapping until there was only one lone male left in the wild. A female bird was found in captivity that had originally been caught from the wild, and she was relocated to the jungle, and then released in the area of the lone male. Unfortunately the female disappeared before a successful union took place, and the male died in 2000. Now there are no birds in the wild, only captive birds who are hopefully the beginning of a new flock, and not the end of a species.


Spix-Tree-3_web ' last known nest
 Last Known Nest Site of the Spix Macaw


 


This movie shows how we might bring about a different ending than what happened to the Spix Macaw. Though the birds are repeatedly caged, chained, and grounded, Blue eventually learns to fly, and in so doing, frees his new love who has an injured wing. Blue discovers the thrill and passion of flying and he elects to stay free. With his new mate, they return to the wild and live happily ever after. So too do Blue’s woman companion, the conservationist, and the orphan boy who become a family. The trappers end up defeated and their evil days come to an end.


 


Let be me so pedestrian as to suggest some underlying themes that jump out at me in this movie:


1. Many of us do not know we are trapped, or that life could be more wonderful and liberating.


2. If we don’t know we are trapped, we cannot free ourselves, or others. If we are trapping others, we ourselves are trapped.


3. We are interrelated in our imprisonment – the tragedies wrought by humans damages humans who end up orphaned and in slums, or birds who never know of flight. If any one of us is imprisoned, so are all of us.


4. We are interrelated in our liberation – in freeing others, we become free. To free everyone, we must work together and be in solidarity with the plight of both the trapped and trapper.


5. There are no clear demarcations between the trapped and the untrapped. Some free flying birds suffer greatly, while some others in cages lead what looks to be good lives and seem to flourish. Ultimately, only the individual his or herself can know what is missing, or where the wounds are. Even though we may never know the “other” or even ourselves with much clarity, we can always offer freedom to ourselves and others by cultivating choices.


6. We are trapped by our evolution and culture, yes, and we are freed by our choices in how we wish to live, grow, and give to others.


Am I saying that the story of our 21st century can end like the movie Rio with happy, joyful humans and birds frolicking together in a beautiful forest? In so many ways we already do, at least that’s what it feels like sometimes during my parrot conservation work in Latin America. However, I am ever so cognizant of the dual reality of how much we are losing, and how fast; birds and humans are frantically trying to survive. Even if we somehow make it eventually in some century, we won’t ever vanquish the reality that the jungle is a harsh place, with our without humans. There will always be sadness, loss, harm, pain, and yes, the cruelty of our ways, and evolution’s.


 


Woman_in_cage


I accept this reality, and so reject the surrealism of Rio which suggests that we can totally excise suffering from our world. However, knowing this, I believe we come begin to accept what we as a species have wrought, and open ourselves to all of who we are, the good, the bad, and the ugly. In this embrace of a world both wondrous and terrifying, we can intentionally find the ways to guard our failings without trapping beauty, unlock our potential, and set ourselves free, and all beings with us.


 


How will you gain your freedom, and offer it to others?



Friday, December 24, 2010

The Year of the Sparrow

Savannah Sparrow
 Savannah Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis)


 


I have never really thought much about sparrows, but this seems to be changing.  In my other blog reflecting on Mary Oliver's poetry, sparrows have come up frequently in her poems and my writing.  Then on Sunday, as part of the local Christmas Bird Count, I was a member of a counting circle that emphasized sparrows. We formed "sparrow lines" to flush out and identify the birds. Okay, I was more of flusher than an identifier.  Only two days later I received in the mail rather serendipitously a promotional nature calendar whose subject  was...wait for it....sparrows!


Then yesterday this story was brought to  my attention:



"Tell me, how much is a snowflake in weight?" asked a sparrow a wild pigeon.
"Not more than nothing" was the answer. 

"Then", the sparrow says, "I want to tell you a wonderful story: I was
sitting on a branch of a pine tree, close to the trunk when it started to
snow. Not much, not like in a storm. No, it was like in a dream, without
any touch of intensity. Because I did not have anything else to do I started
to count those snowflakes which fell on my branch and the needles. Their
number was 3 741 952. When the next snowflake fell on the branch - not
more than a nothing as you said - the branch broke." 

The sparrow did not say more, he took off. 

The pigeon, which is supposed to be an authority since Noah in this topic,
thought a while about this story and then said to itself: May be there is
only one voice missing on our earth that peace will be in our world. 



Is yours the missing voice?


Is it the sparrows?


Is it mine?


What I am learning, oh Lord, ever so slowly, is that all beings matter, for each sings a song of life, and of death. 


So to affirm this knowing I plan to embody this song.  I shall learn more about sparrows this year.  Let them no longer be unidentifiable "little-brown'jobs" but daily miracles to discern.


May I in this year come to know the voices in the field as I add my song to theirs.


Whose voice shall you join this year?


 



Thursday, December 24, 2009

A Christmas Bird Story - The Man and The Birds

ATT0000012
 

The Man and the Birds



-- Author Unknown --

(Shared by Paul Harvey on his radio show)



 



Below is a story that didn't end the way I
thought it would, could, or should.  So I
have added words at the end to represent my heart's hope for human and bird
alike
.



Now
the man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge, he was a kind,
decent, mostly good man. Generous to his family, upright in his dealings with
other men. But he just didn't believe all that incarnation stuff which the
churches proclaim at Christmas Time. It just didn't make sense and he was too
honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn't swallow the Jesus Story, about
God coming to Earth as a man. "I'm truly sorry to distress you," he
told his wife, "but I'm not going with you to church this Christmas
Eve." He said he'd feel like a hypocrite. That he'd much rather just stay
at home, but that he would wait up for them. And so he stayed and they went to
the midnight service.



Shortly
after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the
window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to
his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was
startled by a thudding sound. Then another, and then another. Sort of a thump
or a thud. At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his
living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate he found
a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They'd been caught in the storm
and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large
landscape window.



Well,
he couldn't let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the
barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter,
if he could direct the birds to it. Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped
through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on
a light, but the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in.
So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the
snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable. But
to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around
helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them. He tried shooing them into the
barn by walking around them waving his arms. Instead, they scattered in every
direction, except into the warm, lighted barn.



And
then, he realized, that they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a
strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them
know that they can trust me. That I am not trying to hurt them, but to help
them. But how? Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them.
They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared
him. "If only I could be a bird," he thought to himself, "and
mingle with them and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be
afraid. Then I could show them the way to safety ... to the safe warm barn. But
I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and
understand."



At
that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above
the sounds of the wind. And he stood there listening to the bells - Adeste
Fidelis - listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. And he
sank to his knees in the snow.....



(This is the end
of regular story. What happened to the birds?  And so I add...)



And became a bird.



The word made bird



And love was born



Thursday, November 26, 2009

Suspended Wren - Suspended Life

DSC_0533  

 

Last
weekend I was walking along a small lake in Orlando Florida and came upon a
dead wren suspended by it’s beak from a cattail reed.  It was somewhat bloated and desiccated, its feathers disshelved
making identification of it difficult – perhaps a sedge or marsh wren.  What was more perplexing was how the bird
came to be in this position.  Did it get
its beak jammed in the reed, unable to free itself?  Did a shrike do its impaling thing by stuffing the bird by its
beak into the small crevice?  Or did a
human come by and find a dead bird or even an injured one, and hang it by it’s
beak as a unbidden, subconscious ritual harkening from million years of primate
evolution?  I walked away from the bird
with more questions than answers, for the life of the wren and for my own life.



 



How
do we get to be in the positions we find ourselves?  How do we live in the unknown, mysterious liminal world where we
hang between birth and death and knowing and not knowing, unable to affect the
outcome or know what the outcome will be? 
There are moments in our lives where we are suspended from our daily
concerns, often in times of confusion and pain, and we can but swing in the
wind like the wren, beauty caught in some mysterious pattern with decay and
death all around.  Will your end come
from bad luck or unfortunate accident, a force or natural process of nature, or
from intentional mal intent from our own species? 



 



No
matter where we find ourselves I wonder then if in the unbidden tragedies or
our life, we can let go to the mystery, so deeper connections of beauty and
compassion can emerge. 



 



A
wren on a reed



Signals
we all have a need



Longing
to be freed



 



Cowritten with my sister Linda Joyner

Monday, March 9, 2009

A Liberating Bird Story

Please join me in writing this bird story.  Write the next segment, send it to me on twitter or through my email, and I'll choose among those sent in.  The guidelines are:  write in Haiku (5-7-5 syllable pattern) and speak to the beauty, tragedy, and the liberating possibilities of connecting our hearts to birds and one another (or just have fun and be creative and let's see what we can do together!)


Barred_Owl-Minnehaha_Park-2006-01-09


 


A Liberating Bird Story


    Once upon a time, yellow-rumped warbler flew north. Barred Owl became sad.


    He did not know why. He only knew lost beauty. His hoot became faint


    The pine warblers pined - where did their wise friend go to? He never left them


    He became silent. The forest filled with delight. The buntings were back!


    Owl perched above them, thinking of life and of death. Beauty never leaves.


    Beauty comes and goes, as do buntings and warblers, as does life and death


    Enlightened owl, flew off to the riverside, to perch in cypress.



    Waiting for sturgeon, to jump and break the water. Just "this" and no more.



    "Flashes of insight, come to fishers of all kinds," said Owl to Osprey



    “What do you wait for?" Osprey quizzed the Strigiform. "The sturgeon’s too big!"



    “It’s not the sturgeon, that’s too big to catch today,” prompted Barred Owl.



    A boater came by. The birds drew their feathers in, and fumes filled the air.