Carnal Cardinals

I have written several times about our resident pair of cardinals. I particularly enjoy watching their antics because they are the only two cardinals on the homestead, they are beautiful (especially the bright red male), and I can easily tell poppa from momma—so when I spot one of them I know that it's the same bird that I watched yesterday, last week, the last few years.

The pair is monogamous—they've fostered a few dozen broods over the years. (Cardinals in the wild—especially those who dine at well-stocked feeders—may live for up to 16 years!) Our resident cardinals often accompany each other around the clearing. Their behavior varies during the year, and is especially interesting to watch as the breeding season comes along. The male needn't worry about who he'll mate with, so he can forgo the competitive antics of other male birds, who must woo a mate. He rules the clearing—this is his lady. His fiefdom is secure. Their spring nuptial dance is fascinating to watch.

They are on intimate and familiar terms. Their communication is smooth and sure. Their language can be subtle—requiring only the most understated chipping sounds; like a long-time married pair of humans, who can get their point across with a brief look, a nod of head, and even finishing each other's sentences.

I recently watched our pair of cardinals at the feeder. During the fall and winter they literally ignore each other when they feed, but as breeding season comes on, they interact much more—chipping at each other, darting towards the other, with the male occasionally feeding her. As I observed their spring frolics recently, I imagined the following conversation between them.

She: Yeah, I know you're in a randy mood right now, but I'm more interested in my evening meal. (Later:) Where should we hide this year's nest? I wasn't very happy about last year's location. I didn't feel all that secure while I was brooding.

He: You pick the location then. Just don't make it too far from the feeder. Hey, baby, how about a little smooch?

She: Later, Romeo. Are you gonna slack off on nest building again this year, or can I count on more help from you?

He: Don't worry... I'll be there. What say we fly off and grab some juicy bugs? I'm getting tired of these sunflower seeds, day after day. Why can't those humans give us a little variety?

She: You don't appreciate me enough. Remember when you regurgitated a whole beak full of seeds and fed them to me? It was so sweet.

He: Well, if you insist. Get ready for a French kiss. Hey! What was that?! I just heard a testosterone-pumped guy singing down by the creek! This is my empire! I won't stand for this intrusion. You stay right here.. I'll be back soon.

The male flies off and begins singing loudly and imperiously, off towards the creek. The potential intruder's call fades off into the woods. The mating dance will again resume.

An Ugly Dandelion Can Be Beautiful

Click to enlarge

Restoring Nature—Part 2

Another disturbing notion offered by some technologists, is to repair the damage we've done by bringing back some species that have become extinct, in order to correct the imbalance we've imposed on nature. Many people understand that human culture has caused countless species to disappear—from large predators like giant bears and lions, to large herbivores like mammoths, to tiny creatures like miniature rainforest frogs. Each critter that becomes extinct upsets the balance of the natural system, and causes it to degrade.

Now that our knowledge of genetics appears to have advanced to the point that we can recreate and clone extinct species, some technologists are trumpeting this approach to bringing back the natural balance that once prevailed in nature. It has the appeal of solving a big problem through biological accomplishments.

OK, maybe it might be possible to recreate a frozen mammoth's genome and induce a female elephant to give birth to a revived mammoth. That's a pretty neat trick, but is it any way to try to correct for our damage? Even if a herd of mammoths could be created (imagine the cost!), it's doubtful that they could flourish on today's changed planet. It's the height of arrogance to think that this approach would take us back to a healthier world.

The disturbing thing about these technological fix-it ideas, as I wrote earlier, is that it would put us in a place where we're trying to play God... but we'd be in way over our heads. It'd be like turning over the management of modern societies to a group of three-year-olds. We comprehend far less than we think we do about the workings of nature.

Our tweaking of the environment would likely cause huge ramifications about which we could never guess. When DDT was regarded as a miracle insecticide that would save agriculture from insects and people from malaria, no one had a clue that it would cause the shells of birds' eggs to weaken to the point that the eggs collapsed before the embryonic bird had developed. We nearly caused many large bird species—like bald eagles and some hawks—to become extinct. And they represent far more usefulness to the environment than simply keeping an admired species from going extinct.

Why do we insist in rushing forward, heedless to the mess we're causing? Why don't we have the courage and the morals to change our ways? Is there some basic flaw in the human psyche that relentlessly drives us ever more deeply into calamity? I'd like to believe that maybe some day we'll wake up and change our ways, but I wonder how much more impoverished our world will become, before we wise up.