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 This
is Leslie Halperin, April's contributor to Eddy Robey's Book of Months. Eddy is
in mourning for her favorite cousin, the exquisite Sherry Britton, who left us
on April first, three months shy of her ninetieth birthday. I hope that Eddy
will speak about her in essays-to-come. Her's was an interesting, and beautiful
life.
Life! April is the first full month of spring. And spring is life shouting
hello! We celebrate the season with light, color, fragrance, noise, and
movement. We also breathe a sigh of relief at having survived winter, and bad
times, generally. We feast, we imbibe, we might even venture the odd
flirtation... But spring is a hard time, too. Life preys on life. All creatures
bring forth new life, and very little of that new life lives past its infancy.
(There is an old Hindu proverb: "Every creature's disaster is another creature's
festival.")
I live in Van Nuys, California, a land of large trees, and overgrown backyards.
The mockingbirds come early. They sing all night and all day. It is said that a
trained "birder" can identify the range of a mockingbird's migration by noting
all of the different birdsongs in its "vocabulary." I am not a birder, but I can
recognize the sounds of a scrubjay, a tit, a bluejay, and a variety of others,
whose names I do not know, whom I've heard in the Coastal Ranges, and local
deserts. The most prominent mockingbird in my neighborhood, has spiced his
repertoire with two distinct dog barks, a squirrel screech, and what I think
might be a seagull's cry. Last year, a mockingbird passed through that imitated
a hawk, which struck me as a pretty bad choice if he wanted to attract a mate.
I love the mockingbirds. So, it hurts me, later in the spring, when their nests
are routinely attacked by the crows. But, I also love crows. They are
intelligent, social ("Falderaldy critters," to use Jerry Garcia's phrase,) and
inventive. I was sorry to see the local population so badly decimated by the
West Nile Flu, during the last two years. The creatures are recovering, albeit
slowly, no doubt prominently on mockingbird meat. Sometimes, hawks, in mating
pairs, circle the crows' territories. The crows strike out in a defensive
barrage. But a careless, over-bold crow could easily end up as dinner. A real
birder certainly knows a great many of these chains of predation. None of my
beloved wild, nor domestic creatures (including humans) could live, but for
predation, direct or indirect.
The myriad sufferings of all life forms cannot help but sadden us. We are taught
empathy. And we want to be empathetic. We are part of the great cycle of life
and death. What we see around us, will eventually come to us. Spring shows us
the pattern, the symmetry of the arrangement. And awakens us to the beauty in
it.
Our wonderful Eddy will return to us in May. She has asked me to send you her
love. |
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