Tag Archives: birds

I do not have the confidence of a bird, but I like to sing.

Self-expression can be difficult. It is always risky to share something with anyone for a variety of reasons. Some things offer no feedback in response (rocks, trees, dirt) while others simply seem unwilling to listen (anxious squirrels, the raccoon I accidentally sat on, essentially all ants). Then there are the creatures who make me feel embarrassed to share. Birds, for example, do so many things so well and with such ease, making it challenging to share things in front of or around them. They fly with determination. They sit atop trees with grace. They never seem to fall. They, most importantly, sing. They sing so beautifully.

I, too, like to sing. I like to sing maybe as often as birds do, but I do not feel the confidence they must feel to sing so freely and so openly. When I sing, I am usually alone, sometimes among trees and rocks (again, they say nothing back so it is easier, though still difficult, to sing in front of them). I let out tiny growls and tiny howls and such and, I must admit, try to mimic what I have heard from birds. They do sing so well, and I do desire to sound like them. I know I do not. I know that my bear songs are probably not nearly as sweet and calming as most bird sounds seem, but that does not stop me.

Once, a bird caught me singing. I thought my only audience was a few rocks sitting outside of my cave, but after belting out a few growls, I looked up to see a very red bird staring at me. I was unable to tell what the bird thought of my song. I stared back, waiting for a review or, even better, advice. It never came. We stared at each other for awhile longer and then I let go and channeled my bird confidence and sang some more. The very red bird kept staring and when I stopped, it looked elsewhere and then finally flew off.

It felt nice to have a real audience, as stoic as it seemed. It made me feel like maybe I could do what birds do with the same kind of confidence. Maybe I do not sing as well as any bird, but I am sure I could at least feel as good about my singing as every bird must.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Advertisements

What is going on with the tops of trees?


Trees are the foundation of the forest. If anything really defines the forest (its looks and feelings and general pointiness), it is trees. I have had many thoughts about trees. They are unavoidable since they are so omnipresent. Despite how much time space and time trees take both in the forest and my bear brain, though, there are still mysteries about them.

Like where did they come from?

I do not know, but I also know that might be a hard thing for me to answer. I am not entirely sure I know where I came from, and it seems to me unfair that I would ask the same question to trees whee I cannot answer it for myself.

A more approachable and fair question I have about trees, however, is: what is going on with the top of them? I have certainly climbed my share of trees, but never have I dared to venture all the way to the top. I can only get so high up before it becomes far too scary and shaky, so I have no reference for what they become even higher up. From what I can see, it is simply more tree. But that is from my very limited perspective, and assuming that is unfair to trees and what they might be where I cannot see.

I have a fear that up there is where they keep their mouths. Have you ever seen a mouth on a tree? I have not, but like all things in the forest, surely they consume things, right? So where do trees consume things? It seems, to me, that a good place for a tree to stick a mouth is right at the top of itself.

I suppose a high up tree mouth is not a bother for most forest creatures, but it does make me fear for one type of creature in particular: birds. If trees do have mouths at the very top of themselves, then surely they feed off of birds more than any other food source. This might explain why birds seem so skittish and frantic all the time. It does not explain, however, why birds sleep and nest in trees. If trees eat birds and birds use trees for nesting, then that is a very complex relationship. Nothing I eat sleeps on me (except for some leaves I once found tangled in my fur and had to eat to get them out of my fur).

I hope birds are okay. And I hope they know what is going on way up high.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Sing me your song, dumpster-bird.


Sing me your song, dumpster-bird,
and tell me what you must have heard.
What is it that you fret?
Is anything a threat?

Do you get a shiver
from the deer across the river?
Or give a second take
to every single snake?

Do you think about what worries me?
How one day I simply might not be
the thing I have always been,
a bear in all my where and when?

What happens when your birdness goes?
And you lose your dumpster sows?
Does the thought sit in your brain
just as a permanent stain?

Or maybe you do not care
about birdness or that I am a bear.
You enjoy your dumpster treats
and ignore where your end meets.

How do I do it, my trash-friend?
How do I endure the harsh wind
of doubtful, haunting thinking
that feels ever so sinking?

Sing me your song, dumpster-bird,
and help me feel assured
that forest life is fine
as long as I have mine.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Not all birds are nice.


Not all birds are nice. I am sorry if this is a controversial statement, but after much consideration, I have come to the conclusion that not every avian creature has my best interest at heart. In fact, some birds are downright malicious toward me for reasons I have not yet discovered.

The first bit of evidence to support my claim presented itself quite awhile ago. I was sitting under a tree branch outside my cave, enjoying the cool shade and thinking about things I like to think about when I hide from the sun’s heat (being a bear, the migration of squirrels, do squirrels migrate?, wait, what is migration?), when a hawk (at least, I think it was a hawk) swooped down and thrusted its sharp feet at my face.

Why did the bird (I am pretty sure it was a hawk) do this? Had I insulted it? Was there food beneath me and the bird wanted me to move? Was the hawk disappointed with my lack of knowledge regarding squirrel migration? Can birds read my thoughts?

There was no way for me to know. The hawk fled away as quickly as it had swooped in. At the time, I wrote the encounter off as a misunderstanding. Perhaps birds spend so much time in the air, they forget how things that live on the ground (me) do not enjoy being swooped upon.

But a similar encounter happened just last night. Another bird (probably a hawk again) swooped down into my cave as I slept and spent the night screeching at me. I had not invited the hawk in nor had I asked for some sort of horrible wake-up call. The hawk had simply taken it upon itself to come into my home and yell at me until I left my own cave. At first I thought maybe there was some sort of ownership dispute regarding my cave, but I then remembered that birds (especially hawks) do not live in caves. Also, it was definitely my cave, I am sure of that.

I stormed back into MY cave and demanded that the hawk leave. After some more screeching, clawing and flapping, the hawk fled.

I did not sleep the rest of the night. The whole incident was just too unpleasant. Instead, I decided to lay in the mouth of my cave, eat the eggs I keep finding in the tree by my cave, and watch for more malicious, unprovoked avian attackers.

I am sorry for whatever I did (if anything at all). I just wish all birds were nice, but so many of them do not seem to be.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? 

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I might look like something else from up there.

attack1-2

Birds.

There are so many of them in the forest. They are all kinds of colors and shapes and have all sorts of different wingspans and attitudes. Some birds sing delightfully beautiful melodies as the sun creeps to its shining perch. Other birds let out soothing coos as the moon’s light bathes the forest and the stars guide the rest of us. There are birds who build impressively sculpted nests to secure their cheerful young and birds who dip their slender beaks with incredible precision into chaotic chunks of mud to end up with a bounty of worms. So many birds are so interesting and delightful and kind and do not attack me.

Some birds, however, are very mean. Some birds (one in particular, it seems) attack me whenever he sees me. Some birds (still this one) have been known to hurl his disastrous claws and beak at and into my ears for no reason other than for what I assume he believes is a good time. Some birds (again, not all, in fact not most, in fact, just the one) take a perfectly good rabbit skeleton I found in a dumpster and probably did not even eat it and instead probably just threw it back into the dumpster maybe, I assume, but I do not know for sure.

Truthfully, there was no reason to bring up birds as an entire group of creatures. It is really just one bird that has troubled me. I try to see things from his perspective. Maybe I look like a worm from up high, which would explain why he gripped into my brow with such fury after a dive so fast I could hear his hideous feathers pierce the air around them. Maybe I deserve all of this bird aggression because of some slight I committed against this bird or another bird or to the forest in general. Maybe there is no rhyme or reason to this bird’s chaos, and I am just an unlucky target of his hate-fueled conquest for joy.

It is hard to convince myself of any of these things because this bird has been after me for so many consecutive unpleasant moments. I do not know what to do. The bird does not listen to reason or offerings of a trash bag I found filled with used napkins.

Maybe this bird just does not like me. Without meeting me or trying to understand me, this bird does not like me, and maybe there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to accept it. I have to accept that some things, this bird included, just do not care for me no matter what.

I do not know how to accept that, though. This is not the first thing to not like me (deer, snakes, etc.), but at least usually that dislike is based around some kind of past event or pretense. This bird does not have those things with me. I do not know this bird. It does not know me. But it has its opinion of me well formed already.

I guess all I can do about that is know it exists.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? 

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

The pros and cons of mud: why do birds think it is okay to laugh at me?

a-dumb-bird1

Why mud is good:

  • Smells neat
  • Feels neat in between toes
  • Feels neat in nose
  • You can lick it and nobody will yell at you
  • It tastes pretty okay
  • Even the chunky parts taste pretty okay
  • You can eat however much you want
  • You can keep eating it and nobody will yell at you
  • It is nice to not be yelled at
  • There has been a lot of yelling in my life recently, and it is nice to have a peaceful moment where nobody is yelling at me
  • Sometimes I wonder if I attract yelling, I ask myself if I do anything that warrants so much yelling, but that is unfair, I cannot help that I am whatever about me that gets me yelled at so often
  • Like yesterday, I was walking around some human caves and they were shouting for some reason and it seemed like maybe they were shouting at the glowing boxes they were near inside their caves but also I had a feeling it was about me?
  • Perhaps it was not about me, maybe the yelling from those humans had nothing to do with me
  • Maybe none of the shouting I hear is about me, maybe the creatures shouting are shouting because of something with them
  • Mud feels good on my belly
  • I need to learn that not all things that happen in the forest, even the things that I experience, are strictly about me, maybe things shout because they want to shout and there is nothing I can do about it
  • I like mud, and I like sloshing my feet about in it

Why mud is bad:

  • Oh no
  • I slipped
  • I slipped in the mud
  • But I like mud
  • Why would mud do this to me
  • No, mud did not do this, mud is just mud and I slipped
  • It is not mud’s fault
  • I fell again
  • And slipped
  • That has to be because of the mud
  • Why, mud
  • Why betray me
  • Please, mud
  • I think those birds saw me
  • Those birds definitely saw me
  • And they are laughing
  • I think they are laughing
  • And shouting
  • Shout-laughing
  • Or maybe they are making bird sounds
  • Mud has betrayed me and now birds are making fun of me
  • And possibly shouting at me
  • No
  • This is not about me
  • The mud is just mud
  • The birds are just making bird sounds
  • Or
  • Maybe
  • They are not
  • Maybe everything is against me
  • I am so saddened by mud
  • And birds
  • And shouting
  • And everything not being about me
  • Or everything being about me
  • Please
  • Mud can get stuck in your nose, and when it dries that is not pleasant

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? 

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I saw a dirt-covered seagull.

seagull-2

Seagulls are rare in my part of the forest, but when I get deeper into the forest, past the clumps of trees I normally reside in and to the slabs of flat rocks and human caves, I sometimes run into a seagull. The last time I saw a seagull, it stared at me as it stood next to a few crows, chewing on some plastic bits it had fished out of a dumpster. It was a strange experience. It was missing feathers and had a twisted leg. It looked okay with both of those things. The bird’s dark, beady eyes glared at me while its empty face consumed its catch. I envied it, to be honest, as it so openly, without any indication of shame for its seemingly awful state of being, enjoyed a nice dumpster snack.

I saw another seagull today. I was trying to climb into a dumpster when it swooped from the sky (as birds with their aggressive nature tend to do) and landed on the corner of the dumpster I was climbing. My front paws were inside, but I stopped and stared at the seagull as the last seagull I saw had stared at me. It stared back. It was covered in dirt. Brown and grey crud covered its crooked feathers. Mud rested on its neck, dried and flaking off with every little movement it made. Its eyes were just as beady and as dark as any seagull I had ever seen.

I am not sure how long we stared at one another, but eventually the seagull broke the spell and flew off. I shook my head and tried to snap back into my reality. I climbed into the dumpster I was climbing into and did what I normally do in dumpsters: enjoyed myself with some scavenging and a long nap.

When I climbed out, the seagull was on the ground to greet me. I had no idea if it was the same seagull, but it was definitely covered in dirt and it smelled similar. My head was poking out of the dumpster, my paws hanging over the edge, when its glare stopped me as it had before. It was standing in a very thick, dark liquid. Confidently. Maybe proudly. We stared at one another again. This seagull was so unashamed just to be. I do not know how it did that. I have always been nervous to be. Being has always worried me, plagued my thoughts and forced me to rethink my being. I doubted this seagull even knew it was. Did this seagull even care that it was? That it existed? I was hard to tell.

It dipped its long, strange beak into the liquid, slurped some of it, and flew away.

This seagull was fine with being what it was.

I tried licking the black liquid after the seagull was gone and I had climbed out of the dumpster.

It burned and made me very upset.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? 

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.