Mike Macartney's Blog - Posts Tagged "crows"
El Jefe
The crows raid the dumpsters behind the complex and scatter the garbage around in the mornings. The groundkeeper, Jose was picking up the bits in the bright sunshine and flipping them back into the bins when I walked by on the way to the garage.
The crows get into the garbage, I said pointing at it.
Yes, he said.
Jose waved his hand at a big crow sitting on a thick telephone wire near the dumpsters. El Jefe, he said.
I smiled looking up and said, yes, it is him. I laughed to myself going on to the car. Yes, El Jefe. Perfect.
I like crows. If ever I would have a bird as a pet my familiar would be a crow. Harry Potter can have his aloof owl, and the Shah of Arabie can pose with his royal falcon, but I will take a crow. Crows know things.
Sometimes El Jefe and his crew flit down from the eves in the front to hop around scattered french fries at the edge of the street that runs along there. Their world is the perch on the building, the sidewalk with the strip of grass and the marching row of trees next to the gray street. The crows know that they will have plenty of time to get the french fries, and that the people walking down the sidewalk will not bother them. There will be breaks in the flow of the cars hissing by, and the birds know when to hop closer to the curb when one of them gets too close, or even flap over to the grass when the big trucks swoosh by. They seem to understand their world and appear happy with it.
Crows are not bright about what the real world is, though. They do not know that they are just part of the human world that we have created over the whole of the Earth. The crows have their place in our world, scattering the trash and patrolling the grassy border. They go about their simple lives without knowing what they really are in the order of things. Their tiny brains cannot even begin to comprehend all of it.
When I stop to look up from the sidewalk beside the grass beside the road, I know where the road is going and what the cars are and what things exist down the road in both directions. I can look across the road over the trees and hills in the distance and know that Nebraska is over that way.
I have only been to Nebraska one time, riding through in the backseat of a car on the way to Ohio when I was nine years old. They had wonderful steaks, some of the best I have ever had, where my father stopped in a restaurant beside the road after a long day of driving. That is why I know all about the world in Nebraska; that and the stories on the TV and the books and newspapers, when there were still newspapers.
I have never been to New York City at all, but the real world has New York City in it, even if I have never seen it. I know all about it too. There are so many stories about New York City that no one could not know about it and understand it. It is very real. New York City is right there, over past the road, past the hills, out past Ohio.
El Jefe, no matter that he understands to get out of the way of the cars or that the garbage bins will have food in them, or even that he can manage other cows around him in those places, in whatever ways that crows do that, does not understand New York City at all.
El Jefe will eat a bad french fry one day, or hop too slowly getting out of the way of a bus. He will be gone and his world with him. Other crows will come and go in the real world and things will be as they should be. If there are no crows then other things will be there to take their place, or we humans will replace the crows with something else that fits better.
When I drove down a road today, not the one beside the grass under the row of trees, a black police SUV traveled along in front of me. A few years ago the SUV would have been a black and white car with a shotgun standing beside the driver. The large SUV I followed had a sniper rifle with a scope next to the driver. Next to the sniper rifle was another rifle without a scope on it. There were several radio antennas on the SUV, and I am sure that the driver had body armor under his crisp blue uniform. Those are parts of the world today, in California, Nebraska, and New York City. Those are real things. We all understand where they fit in the world and how to manage them. El Jefe does not know anything about them at all. But, he does know to get out of the way of the big black SUV if he is snagging a bit of dead squirrel in the road and the SUV comes along.
We are the most remarkable beings this world has ever known. Only 100 of our grandparents ago the Egyptians were stacking rocks, inventing civilization. They were innovators, those Eqyptians. 1000 generations ago there were no humans in California at all, Neanderthals were walking around Europe. Only 2000 generations ago we invented language. We grasped that everything surrounding us made the world and each of us stood at the very center of it wherever we happened to be at the time. We gave names to things and put them in their proper places. We looked at things in front of us with new knowledge, heard sounds around us and imagined into existence what those sounds actually were with the language.
Then came belief about how it all worked. Our brains extended farther and farther out, making the real world larger and larger. We realized that even if we died we would never really die and would just go to another world and live there forever. It would be just the way we wanted it to be, this other place. El Jefe does not understand any of this this. He will not be going to the other world with us when he is hit by the bus.
In just a few short years, we will be able to travel away from this planet into the whole universe that we know is out there. We will meet other beings there and they will learn more about the real world from us and we will learn things from them. They will become parts of the real world, and we will fit them into their place - somewhere out past Nebraska.
El Jefe does not understand the real world, or that he is just a part of ours. But, I guess he is happy with the garbage cans and the french fries in the street under the trees, beside the grass, next to the sidewalk.
The crows get into the garbage, I said pointing at it.
Yes, he said.
Jose waved his hand at a big crow sitting on a thick telephone wire near the dumpsters. El Jefe, he said.
I smiled looking up and said, yes, it is him. I laughed to myself going on to the car. Yes, El Jefe. Perfect.
I like crows. If ever I would have a bird as a pet my familiar would be a crow. Harry Potter can have his aloof owl, and the Shah of Arabie can pose with his royal falcon, but I will take a crow. Crows know things.
Sometimes El Jefe and his crew flit down from the eves in the front to hop around scattered french fries at the edge of the street that runs along there. Their world is the perch on the building, the sidewalk with the strip of grass and the marching row of trees next to the gray street. The crows know that they will have plenty of time to get the french fries, and that the people walking down the sidewalk will not bother them. There will be breaks in the flow of the cars hissing by, and the birds know when to hop closer to the curb when one of them gets too close, or even flap over to the grass when the big trucks swoosh by. They seem to understand their world and appear happy with it.
Crows are not bright about what the real world is, though. They do not know that they are just part of the human world that we have created over the whole of the Earth. The crows have their place in our world, scattering the trash and patrolling the grassy border. They go about their simple lives without knowing what they really are in the order of things. Their tiny brains cannot even begin to comprehend all of it.
When I stop to look up from the sidewalk beside the grass beside the road, I know where the road is going and what the cars are and what things exist down the road in both directions. I can look across the road over the trees and hills in the distance and know that Nebraska is over that way.
I have only been to Nebraska one time, riding through in the backseat of a car on the way to Ohio when I was nine years old. They had wonderful steaks, some of the best I have ever had, where my father stopped in a restaurant beside the road after a long day of driving. That is why I know all about the world in Nebraska; that and the stories on the TV and the books and newspapers, when there were still newspapers.
I have never been to New York City at all, but the real world has New York City in it, even if I have never seen it. I know all about it too. There are so many stories about New York City that no one could not know about it and understand it. It is very real. New York City is right there, over past the road, past the hills, out past Ohio.
El Jefe, no matter that he understands to get out of the way of the cars or that the garbage bins will have food in them, or even that he can manage other cows around him in those places, in whatever ways that crows do that, does not understand New York City at all.
El Jefe will eat a bad french fry one day, or hop too slowly getting out of the way of a bus. He will be gone and his world with him. Other crows will come and go in the real world and things will be as they should be. If there are no crows then other things will be there to take their place, or we humans will replace the crows with something else that fits better.
When I drove down a road today, not the one beside the grass under the row of trees, a black police SUV traveled along in front of me. A few years ago the SUV would have been a black and white car with a shotgun standing beside the driver. The large SUV I followed had a sniper rifle with a scope next to the driver. Next to the sniper rifle was another rifle without a scope on it. There were several radio antennas on the SUV, and I am sure that the driver had body armor under his crisp blue uniform. Those are parts of the world today, in California, Nebraska, and New York City. Those are real things. We all understand where they fit in the world and how to manage them. El Jefe does not know anything about them at all. But, he does know to get out of the way of the big black SUV if he is snagging a bit of dead squirrel in the road and the SUV comes along.
We are the most remarkable beings this world has ever known. Only 100 of our grandparents ago the Egyptians were stacking rocks, inventing civilization. They were innovators, those Eqyptians. 1000 generations ago there were no humans in California at all, Neanderthals were walking around Europe. Only 2000 generations ago we invented language. We grasped that everything surrounding us made the world and each of us stood at the very center of it wherever we happened to be at the time. We gave names to things and put them in their proper places. We looked at things in front of us with new knowledge, heard sounds around us and imagined into existence what those sounds actually were with the language.
Then came belief about how it all worked. Our brains extended farther and farther out, making the real world larger and larger. We realized that even if we died we would never really die and would just go to another world and live there forever. It would be just the way we wanted it to be, this other place. El Jefe does not understand any of this this. He will not be going to the other world with us when he is hit by the bus.
In just a few short years, we will be able to travel away from this planet into the whole universe that we know is out there. We will meet other beings there and they will learn more about the real world from us and we will learn things from them. They will become parts of the real world, and we will fit them into their place - somewhere out past Nebraska.
El Jefe does not understand the real world, or that he is just a part of ours. But, I guess he is happy with the garbage cans and the french fries in the street under the trees, beside the grass, next to the sidewalk.
