Today, January 1st, 2020, we took the long walk way out on the
marsh. It was a mixed-reaction kind of day - weak sun to start, almost
warm, then cloudy-covers snuck in over Mt Tamalpais and congealed the
sky. A damp wind cut across the limp waters, and nudged into the ends
of our sleeves, pushed in between zippers. It lifted the brimmed hat off
my head, kilting it into the sedgy muddy grasses. Several times. The
air was briny and brittle. It felt like a New Years Day - cold, yet
fecund, with the sense of frozen possibilities ahead, just waiting to
thaw out.
We recognized a pair of Northern Harriers,
old friends from previous walks, who swoop low across the watery
grasses, quartering the wide, levy-bounded fields. At the far corner of
our walk, where the trail loops around and we head back toward the
start, a swath of white dots: almost twenty snowy egrets congregating,
poking and pecking and high-stepping through what can only be considered
half water, half mud. Although we do see a lot of egrets around here,
we tend to see them one by one, as solitary stalkers and so this
grouping seems unusual and striking. And yet - we are past the darkest,
longest night. It has to be that time: birds starting to pair up in
preparation for nesting season. This looked like was one of those
group-dates youngsters are fond off, where they can peer at each other,
evaluate all the options, without the burden of a one-to-one date.
Along
the way, we saw three willets walking through the weeds along the bank,
their drab stripey-sides out, not their stunning black and white
undergarments. The last time we were out here, we had seen a flock of
these pale-gray undistinguished-looking water birds that startle,
dazzle, confuse with a dramatic but hidden black-and-white wing tip
pattern, revealed in flight or when they they lift their wings. I so
wanted to see that transformation, but refrained from tossing a stick in
the water just to see them fly up.
Finches and phoebes chipped and cheeped and whistled, sparrows
darted in and out of blackberry thickets and coyote mint. The wind
kept darting about too. Our talk was of the sky and the brackish water
and the way Mt Tam stood revealed and covered as clouds stumbled over
her sloping flanks. We mulled over what this upcoming year might be
like; the way forward feels both both clear-cut and occluded at the same
time. The future seems veiled and yet right in front of our eyes; what
looks drab and unassuming at first, could hide dramatic black-and-white
consequences in flight.
The path back
to the car runs along the tide-determined creek. A
Western grebe, all royalty and sleek diving, caught our attention -
we were transfixed by the small red eye, the inherent regal grace.
Further on, a pair of hooded mergansers mesmerized us -- a golden
feathery mohawk crowned the drabber bronze-hued duck, while her mate
stunned us with geometric black and white zig-zag patterns at the each
end of a chestnut-brown body, all reflected in the water in a kind of
op-art
extravaganza. We shared our binoculars with two moms and kids, all of
us amazed. I mean, really, Lady Gaga would be proud
of the feathery costume-drama.
There is great anxiety
in not knowing exactly how the next year will play out, what the next
five years will be like. In that way, these years feel much like the end
of the 60s, when the turmoil over the Viet Nam War, the fight-marches
for Civil Rights, the riots each summer the sense of unrest and
uneasiness. Things felt like they hung in the balance and yet no one
could predict how it was going to play out. We couldn't anticipate
anything then and we can't really now. We have to keeping moving on,
fighting the good fight, flying up in the face of injustice when things
are wrong.
Meanwhile, we move forward on our own small
stages. We buy houses, we go to school, we retire, we continue working;
we create fabulous food, we share with friends and family, we raise
kids, we engage in the discussions that illuminate and empathize.
Because no matter what is happening on the big stage, these busy,
spinning little stages with their music and food and funny-bird dances
carry us into the future, whatever it might look like.
Western Grebe
Willets
Hey, come by Copperfield's for some fun writing! Jumpstart Writing workshops will be held in Petaluma and San Rafael to get your writing hopping. See below for days and times. We'll write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. No only that, it's fun!
