The Watcher

Puffy - photo by Merry Leonard

On a frigid December morning, just as it is getting light, I spot the watcher. As usual the big bird is perched near the top of a tall box elder tree along the southeastern edge of our backyard. I’ve seen this bird almost every day in about the same location for two winters now. Of course, it’s impossible for me to know if it’s always the same bird. Nonetheless, I have reason to believe it is.

Identification of such a large bird is easy even though I can only see its silhouette in the half-light of dawn. It’s about the size of a chicken. It sits upright on the branch. It is hefty but sleek, not pudgy enough to be an owl. Its tail is a prominent fan. Even though I can’t see its powerful hooked bill I know it must be a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). No other native bird fits this description. It helps to know that the red-tail is the most common North American hawk.

As the sun rises I can see our bird has a light, speckled breast with a dark band of feathers across the middle. It wears a mottled dark brown overcoat. Pale sunlight filtering through its broad tail reveals brick red feathers fading to muted orange. The bird watching our yard is probably a female as it is quite large. We call her “Puffy.” Once in a great while I see her noticeably smaller mate in the same tree. I have never seen them both together.

I’ve thought a bit about why Puffy choses to watch our yard in winter. I think the main reason is that the box elder tree provides a perfect hawk perch. The tree is located at the edge of a small wood on a steep hill. Given that a red-tail is able to see a mouse from a long way away, our tree provides optimum hunting visibility.

We feed songbirds during the winter but the frequent presence of our large red-tail does not seem to particularly alarm the little brown birds. Maybe they know that 85% of this hawk’s diet consists of rodents, especially mice and small squirrels. Red-tails usually eat two or three mice a day. It’s an opportunistic feeder, however, and will eat the occasional bird if necessary. So far as I can tell, most of the songbird kills in our yard come from neighbors’ cats with only a very occasional loss of a pigeon or cardinal to a passing Cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk.

Although red-tailed hawks are often seen soaring, they are primarily perch-hunters. Elevated perch sites are a necessary component of their habitat. According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology once a pair of red-tails finds a suitable home territory they tend to stay in that territory for their entire lives. Red-tail home territory can be as large as 25 square kilometers (about 10 square miles). Red-tails are known to live for 25 years or more in the wild.

Red-tailed hawks have adapted well to the human altered landscape. In recent years their population has been slowly increasing. They especially like the small woodlots in towns and villages. The interstate highway system has also created a prime hunting area. Earlier this week Merry and I spotted seven red-tails within sixty miles along the NYS Thruway (I-90).

I wonder if there are more red-tails around in winter or whether I can just see them better now that the leaves have fallen. The red-tailed hawk is a partial migrator. This means some red-tails move south in winter and some do not. Many red-tails from Canada and the northern US move just far enough south that snow does not cover the trails of the mice that are their favored prey. Some individuals, especially older birds with established territories, choose to stay put no matter how harsh the winter. I guess Puffy likes the weather in Syracuse.

Puffy does not stay in our tree all day long. She sits there motionless for an hour or two at a time and then she is gone. I see her most often in the early morning, and then again in the afternoon. For all I know she may sleep in our box elder.

During the afternoon the crows let me know when Puffy returns to her perch. It’s called mobbing. Even though adult crows are rarely killed by red-tails, crow chicks make a convenient hawk snack. Crows never forget this. When they spot Puffy they begin a continuous alarm call. This alerts other nearby crows that join the raucous gang. Soon dozens of large black birds are perched all around Puffy giving her all mighty hell. Eventually Puffy has enough and flies off pursued by her cawing enemies, who swerve, zoom and dive at her.

Mobbing behavior works because the red-tailed hawk relies on stealth to succeed in hunting. A mob of noisy crows completely ruins this strategy so they leave to hunt elsewhere. Of course, from the crow’s point of view, they simply want to drive the hawk a safe distance out of their neighborhood. The mobbing crows are seldom at risk from Puffy’s deadly talons, provided they keep her in sight and do not take too many foolish chances.

On this cold morning I watched Puffy for ten minutes or so and found myself wondering what she could be thinking. Indeed, do birds even think in a way we might be able to understand? I took some deep breaths and let my mind relax. I stopped controlling my thoughts. The sky was clear. Darkness slowly gave way to light that tinted everything a pale golden yellow. Nothing moved. Then from left to right the sky rippled with the black wings of dozens of crows. They passed in a few seconds without taking any notice of the grand motionless hawk. A house wren trilled. Winter.

References:

Cornell Lab of Ornithology at https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Red-tailed_Hawk/id

San Diego Zoo at http://animals.sandiegozoo.org/animals/red-tailed-hawk

Hawk Mountain Observatory at http://www.hawkmountain.org/raptorpedia/hawks-at-hawk-mountain/hawk-species-at-hawk-mountain/red-tailed-hawk/page.aspx?id=460

The Scout Law

I was in the Scouts most my young life. I joined the Cub Scouts while in elementary school. When I was old enough I joined Boy Scout Troop 110. I remained an active Scout until I left for college. I learned how to have fun camping, how to build a fire, how to paddle a canoe and myriad other outdoor skills that have served me well throughout my life.

I dutifully memorized the Scout Oath and the Scout Law and recited them almost every week at Scout meetings. At the time I only had a vague idea of what the words meant. All I knew was that they represented ideals that the adults I respected thought I should learn. Here they are:

The Scout Oath: “On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.”

The Scout Law: “A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.”

Although I left the Boy Scouts behind almost exactly fifty years ago I never forgot the Scout Law. As I was growing up my father was only a distant presence. Almost everything I know about how to live a good life as a man I first learned from the Scouts.

Here are twelve very brief stories I hope will illuminate each of these virtues.

Trustworthy: The last thing Anna heard before she blacked out from the unrelenting pain was “Trust me, we’ll bring help.” It may have been foolhardy to go ice climbing alone but Anna was an expert with hundreds of successful climbs behind her. That didn’t matter when she caught a toe and pitched sideways. She actually heard her leg break. Adrenaline permitted her to rappel off the ice, fashion a makeshift splint and drag herself to the lean-to a quarter of a mile away. In the fog of pain she realized there were two other climbers already camped there. Night was coming on fast. There was a threat of new snow. One of the climbers had some ibuprofen in his pack. They covered Anna with their sleeping bags, strapped on their snowshoes and headed out into the darkness.

Loyal: The troops rose early that warm summer morning. They ate hardtack and drank coffee around smoky campfires. While they waited for orders they wrote letters home and passed them to friends who would not be in that day’s battle. They watched hopefully as their comrades conducted a deafening artillery barrage that lasted most of the morning. Around noon the order came for the infantry to form up into brigades just in front of the trees that sheltered them. Major General Pickett rode up and delivered an inspiring speech in which he praised them as true sons of the Confederacy. “You loyal men are fighting to preserve our very way of life. Today we march to victory!” The order to advance came about 2:00 in the afternoon on July 3, 1863. Drummer boys kept time as about 12,500 men stepped forward. This impressive mass of soldiers marched in formation down a new mown hayfield. The smell of grass reminded those farm boys of home. As they approached the road at the bottom of the gentle slope an order to charge came down the line. They ran uphill towards a long stone wall, whooping and hollering, battle flags waving. Then, the Union cannon fire commenced.

Helpful: The weekend after Thanksgiving a lighted Christmas tree appeared as if by magic in the gazebo on the little island in Hiawatha Lake in Onondaga Park in our Syracuse neighborhood. Many passersby don’t realize the tree is a gift from the Strathmore Men’s Athletic Club [SMAC]. This group originally formed about 10 years ago as a softball team. When the season ended some of them decided to organize a neighborhood kids’ basketball league. As their membership grew SMAC members volunteered to coach Southside Little League teams. For the last several years they have hosted a major neighborhood party cleverly disguised as a water station during the Mountain Goat foot race in the spring. They provide volunteer manpower for Art on the Porches weekend in the summer, the Strathmore Artisan’s Holiday Sale in the fall and virtually every other neighborhood function. They meet the second Wednesday of every month at Swallow’s Tavern to drink beer, watch sports and plan their next project. 

Friendly: Looking everyone in the eye and saying hello as you pass on a city street will not end racism but it does help create good neighbors.

Courteous: I remember meeting Pete Keyes at my very first court appearance after graduating from law school. My first impression was not favorable. He had a reputation as a top trial attorney but I found him unnecessarily abrasive. Over the next months and years I faced him often as an opponent since he represented many major insurance companies. I admired his intelligence and courtroom skills but his aggressive demeanor consistently threw me off my stride. One day he would greet me by remarking off the cuff, “You know your client is a lair, right?” Just before going into a major trial he shook my hand and said, “So, rookie, do you really think you have the stuff to hit this stinker out of the park?” He really knew how to make me doubt myself. After loosing a particularly hard fought case to Pete, I sat down with my supervising attorney, a crusty old guy named John Hogg. “He knows how to get my goat, John. How can I fight back?” John whirled around in his chair, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Kill him with kindness. Always be polite. Never raise your voice. Pretend you don’t hear his insults. You will feel better and become a more effective lawyer. Eventually he will be so embarrassed he will stop baiting you.” John was right.

Kind: After a long lecture at Ithaca College concerning the proper intrepretation of the “Eight Verses on Mind Training” composed by Buddhist master Langri Thangpa back in the 12^th century, the Dali Lama looked up and smiled, “So,” he said, “to be clear, I am not suggesting you westerners even attempt to become Buddhists; what I am saying is to try everyday to be a bit more warmhearted.”

Obedient: Questioning authority does not help you learn to play the piano.

Cheerful: During one of their private meetings President Obama asked Obi-wan Kenobi to impart his secret for remaining optimistic during challenging times. Master Kenobi paused for only a single second, smiled and said, “So … for me one way is to cultivate a very cheerful earworm.” “Did you say ‘earworm’?” “Yes. My unconscious mind always plays a little tune. This comforts me greatly. I find if my unconscious mind is happy I will remain happy no matter how difficult the task.”

Thrifty: When I was in grade school my parents gave me an allowance of fifty cents a week. At first I spent it all on small toys and candy from the corner store. I was eight years old when I saw my best friend’s pocketknife at a Cub Scout meeting. I asked my mother to buy me one like it, but she refused. “If you want that knife, buy it yourself out of your allowance.” That’s when I started saving part of my allowance in a nifty wooden cigar box my father discarded. I still have that Lord Baltimore box.

Brave: This was the moment I had prepared for but hoped would never come. He called out as he stalked toward me while we waited outside Hanover Jr. High. “Hey mister smarty pants, who’s scared now, huh? Think you’re better than me? Well, you’re just a little fairy.” Before I could answer he hit me hard on the left side of my face. I staggered sideways. When I didn’t run away, he hit me in the stomach so hard that I fell to my knees. I stood back up and faced my attacker. A little crowd of kids formed around us. “I’m not going to fight you,” I said in the calmest voice I could muster. He hit me again right in the center of my face. My head snapped back and I fell flat on my back on the asphalt. I tried to get up but he kicked me in the ribs. From the corner of my clouded eyes I saw the vice-principal grab him. Someone led me inside to see the school nurse. When she finished packing my nostrils with gauze I noticed for the first time that my shirt was covered with blood. It took a little over a week for my black eye to go away.

I never saw him again. I later learned he had been expelled. So far as I can remember no one talked to me much about this incident, not my parents, not my teachers. If they had they would have learned that this bully had been taunting me as I walked to school almost every day for about a month before the attack. I didn’t respond, just walked faster. Once I walked the long way to school just to avoid encountering him. This made me feel like a coward, so I resumed my normal route and just endured the verbal abuse. I never told anyone. I never understood what set him against me.

I had plenty of time to think about what I would do if he tried to make good on his threats. He was much bigger than me. I knew I would not stand a chance fighting him one on one. Nonetheless I knew I would have to try to defend myself if he caught me alone. If he were foolish enough to try anything when others were around, that would be a different story. I based my plan on an idea that deeply impressed me when reading a young adult biography of Gandhi about a year earlier. And so, at the tender age of 12, I became a life-long believer in the practical application of non-violent resistance.

Clean: Back in 1965 my younger brother and I signed up for a wilderness canoe trip to northern Ontario. Twenty teenage boys and six brave Scout leaders rode a bus to North Bay, then a train to a remote part of the immense Temagami Lake. We paddled much of every day, camped out and successfully fished for Northern Pike. After three days our leaders decided the smell of so many dirty boys had to be addressed so they informed us that it was mandatory bath day. There was a shallow beach at the campsite perfect for bathing had it not been for the fact that the water temperature was just slightly above freezing. The Scout leaders stood all along the shore to be sure we washed up.

Reverent: My sanctuary is the deep north woods. White tail deer and black bear are my invisible acolytes. I walk silently. I carefully attend to everything that moves, lives and breathes. I rest my back against an ancient white pine. I breathe deeply and savor the cool, crisp air. Here I feel physically strong. Here I am mentally awake. Here I am morally straight. Here I become the man I was meant to be.

On the hypnagogic state

I’ve been experimenting recently with using hypnagogia as part of my writing process. Hypnagogia is that transitional state of consciousness between wakefulness and falling asleep, or conversely, between sleep and wakefulness. During this brief time the conscious mind has not yet shut down but is relaxing its hold. For a few seconds or minutes images and thoughts appear without conscious effort. Then sleep takes over and they are gone.

I’ve been exploring this borderland of consciousness because there is widespread evidence that it can be successfully used as a method for creative problem solving. For example, while in the process of drafting this essay, after completing the research and most of the piece, I became stuck on the problem of how it should end. I wrote a few different ending paragraphs yesterday but none satisfied me.

Last night when preparing to go to sleep I lay on my back in bed and thought about how to end this essay. Since I usually sleep on my side, lying on my back allows me to prolong the hypnagogic period. I took some deep breaths as though I were going to meditate, but because I was tired and because it was my usual bedtime I could feel myself drifting away from consciousness.

A voice said, “Exchange the ending for the beginning.”

I was still conscious enough to know this was the answer. As I lay there trying to remember this advice, I became vaguely aware of an even more complete solution but without consciously wanting to do so, I rolled onto my side and fell fast asleep.

The mind does a lot of processing behind the scenes of consciousness. Our conscious mind does not have access to these deliberations, nor would that be useful. The great thing about the state of hypnagogia is that it allows a question to be poised to the unconscious and, with practice, it allows you to receive the answer and remember it.

Creative people have long been aware of this. For example, the artist Salvador Dali made hypnagogia a part of his ordinary afternoon routine. He called it “slumber with a key.” Dali sat in a comfortable armchair and thought about an artistic problem he wanted to solve. He held a heavy metal key between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He placed an upside down plate on the floor directly under the key. The instant Dali dozed off the key slipped through his fingers, clanged onto the plate, and woke him up. He immediately made note of any images he experienced during his very brief nap. Dali credited this process when asked about his ability to visualize unique images.

Anyone familiar with Dali’s art knows that he was capable of creating some extremely novel images. Dali is not the only artist who regularly tapped the unconscious in the creative process. William Blake described a dream in which his dead brother advised him of a new way to engrave his illustrated songs. Igor Stravinsky claimed a dream was the inspiration for his groundbreaking composition Rite of Spring. Edgar Allan Poe wrote of being inspired by the "fancies" he experienced "only when I am on the brink of sleep.” Robert Lewis Stevenson reported that he dreamed two key scenes of his novel Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote that his famous poem “Kubla Khan” appeared to him in a dream.

Inventors and scientists have also often credited dreams as the basis for their creations. Mathematician and theoretical physicist Henri Poincare reported regularly having insights into the theorems suddenly come to him while he was just falling asleep or waking. Poincare thought the unconscious acts like a “delicate sieve,” to strain out useless ideas. Similarly August Kekule reported he realized the molecular structure of benzene when he dreamed of a snake with its tail in its mouth while half-asleep in front of a fire. Classical scholar Herman Hilprecht reported that he dreamed an Assyrian priest came to him and revealed the accurate translation of the stone of Nebuchadnezzar.

Thomas Edison also regularly practiced problem solving by dozing while sitting in a chair holding a handful of steel ball bearings that would wake him when they dropped from his hand into a metal pie tin. Such disparate inventions as Elias Howe's sewing machine needle with the hole at the pointed end and J. B. Parkinson's computer-controlled anti-aircraft gun were credited by their inventors to ideas that originated in a dream state.

Because there are so many reports of problem solving during sleep, Harvard sleep psychologist Deirdre Barrett devised a study to try to discover whether the reports have any basis in fact. Her study found that hypnagogia proved helpful in problem solving especially if the images were critically examined immediately after waking. 

In essence Barrett’s study used a process very much like that used by Salvador Dali or Thomas Edison. Before going to sleep she instructed student participants to think about problems in a homework assignment. As soon as they woke up she had them record whatever dream images they could remember. A majority of the participants reported they found a solution to the homework assignment in their dreams.

Barrett believes it is the active attempt to focus on a specific problem when falling asleep that allows for solutions and creative ideas to be formed during hypnagogia. As a person falls asleep the area of the brain associated with consciousness, the prefrontal cortex, becomes less active. This decrease in prefrontal activity lowers the inhibition on sounds and images present throughout the brain and allows new associations to form.

This analysis is consistent with the explorations of hypnagogia by Dr. Andreas Mavromatis. Mavromatis agrees during hypnagogic states the usually dominant prefrontal cortex is inhibited thereby allowing evolutionary older brain structures to function more freely. Cortical activity is associated with logical thought and with the perception of a well-defined external world. The older brain structures are attuned to inner experience and to ‘pre-logical’ forms of thought using imagery, symbols and analogy. When the logical grip of the conscious brain relaxes, the other forms of unconscious thought function more freely. The result can be the realization of novel solutions to problems that are not easily accessible to the conscious mind.

And so my creative friends, why not give it a try? As John Steinbeck observed, "It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it."

References:

Deirdre Barrett, The Committee of Sleep: How Artists, Scientists, and Athletes Use Dreams for Creative Problem-Solving-- and How You Can Too (Random House, 2001).

Andreas Mavromatis. Hypnagogia: the Unique State of Consciousness Between Wakefulness and Sleep (Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1987).

Neel V. Patel, Scienceline, 6/27/14, “Sleeping on, and dreaming up, a solution.”

http://scienceline.org/2014/06/sleeping-on-and-dreaming-up-a-solution/

Brett and Kate McKay, The Art of Manliness, 2/18/15, “Nap Like Salvador Dali: Get Creative Insights on the Boundary Between Sleep and Wakefulness.”

http://www.artofmanliness.com/2015/02/18/hypnagogic-nap/

Prairie Dog Town

When I'm feeling lonely

I go to prairie dog town,

Prairie dog town.

There's always something happening

Down in prairie dog town,

Prairie dog town.

Popping up, popping down,

Making all their funny little sounds,

In prairie dog town.

The cousins of the chipmunk

Live in prairie dog town,

In prairie dog town.

Seems they're always eating

Down in prairie dog town,

Prairie dog town.

Standing up, running around,

Watching, barking, disappearing underground,

In prairie dog town.

So … When I'm feeling lonely

I go to prairie dog town,

Prairie dog town.

My cares will surely vanish

When I move to prairie dog town,

Prairie dog town.

5:00 pm, June 17, 2016

Roosevelt National Park

Medora, North Dakota

(With apologies to Bruce Hornsby) 

Heart of a dog

Heart of a dog

Today I yearn for the heart of a dog

If I had a dog's heart, I would always live in the present.

I would forgive easily.

I would wait patiently for everyone in my family to come home.

If I had the heart of a dog

I would sleep whenever I was tired and wake up just to stretch.

I would be curious about everything I heard or smelled.

I would bark at anything that moved.

I would roll in the snow.

I would run full tilt and jump off the dock.

I would love all children on sight.

If I had the heart of a dog

I would always be ready for a ride in the car.

I would play and play and play everyday

With my toys, a stick, my friends or anything.

I would be happy just to be with my family.

I would guard my personal space and have a favorite chair.

I would growl but never bite.

If I had the heart of a dog

I would get bored easily then go find someone to amuse me.

I would let my family ease my fears with hugs.

I would eat snow for breakfast.

I would chase squirrels joyfully without wanting to catch them.

I would adopt the habits of my family and insist on them.

I would happily eat anything, then lick the plate.

And when my end comes,

I will not fear it or sense it coming.

I will wag my tail.

The heart of a dog knows no boundaries.

[For Brenner, my forever buddy, on the day after]