Tortoise Beetle (note gold-flecked "shell", it's only one-quarter inch long)

Mating Dances

During April I watched various sparring displays between males of the same species. It was fascinating to see them engage in singing competitions and joust with each other for territory and the right to mate. Many male songbirds are not able to mate—there is only so much turf available, and the stronger and more capable guys get their pick. The losers remain single for the season, so the competition can be fierce.

By May the mating season gets into full swing. Our birds will pair off, remain monogamous for the summer (or even longer), and raise as many as three broods. Some species—such as the cardinals—remain mated for life. Each species has a preferred nesting site and nest type; building anywhere from flimsy cups to sturdy structures—in cavities, bushes, under eaves, and even on the ground. From two to half a dozen eggs get laid, incubated in only a couple of weeks, and the nestlings get prodded to leave at 2-3 weeks of age. That next brood must get started!

I love to watch the mating behavior, as the birds pair off and begin to set up house. Early in the process it can be difficult to tell if two squabbling birds are competing males or two opposite-sex birds in the first stages of wooing. Some males will initially act quite aggressively towards a potential mate—chasing her off at first. It’s as if he’s checking out how serious she may be about him. If he shoos her away and she quickly returns, maybe she’s really attracted to him and now it’s time to woo her. He will then become increasingly attentive towards her—following her around, deferring to her choice of nesting site, and even feeding her.

I’ve watched the male cardinal tenderly feed his mate several times. The pair often comes to the feeder at dusk to get a snack, before retiring for the night. Usually they come and go individually, but not after their mating dance gets into full swing. Lately I’ve watched her fly to a tree branch above the feeder and chip repeatedly at him, as he sits at the feeder, chowing down on seeds. Eventually he will fly up to her and place his sunflower-stuffed beak into hers, gifting her tenderly with the hulled nuts. They then fly off into the night together, the light fading as in a Hollywood movie.

I’ve wondered about all this solicitous activity on the part of the males. Are they really that much in love, like a swooning human teenager? Birds are not very affectionate. I suspect a couple of other motives might be responsible. First, he may just be trying to be sure that she stays faithful, so the coming babies are really his. (Males of all species often go to great lengths to ensure their own genes are in the kids they take care of—not some stranger’s.) But he may also be buttering her up, for in most cases it’s the female who does the majority of the work in raising the kids. (Sound familiar?) She will likely choose the nest site, build the nest, incubate the eggs, and do at least half of the feeding—while the male perches nearby and sings. His conscience will be less burdened while he croons, if he previously had treated her like the queen that she is.

Goldfinch at the Window

Bowing Trees

By mid May most of the deciduous trees are finally decked out with their summer’s full regalia, and when they do, they respond to winds very differently from winter’s breezes. In cold weather, stripped of their leaves, these trees emit a soft whistle and whir, when the gentle wind flows through them. They bend but slightly, as they offer minimal resistance to the breeze. Fully leaved in spring, however, they present a much bulkier profile to the wind and so must bow to the breezes. They are also noisier in spring, as each leaf gets rattled and rustled about by the gusts, adding countless voices to the chorus.

Sitting quietly in the outdoor tub at this time of year, I can often hear the wind coming for several long moments, before I see it flowing through the trees on the hillside—much like “amber waves of grain.” Strong gusts were coming through the other night and I was enjoying watching the trees bow deeply in response. I was struck by how flexible a tree trunk is, as I watched the tops of the trees swing far to one side and then spring back.

What an exquisite balance a tree’s trunk shows, between suppleness and rigidity! Over millions of years of evolution trees have learned to have just enough stiffness to withstand strong winds by bending, but not so inflexible that they snap. They balance that with just enough elasticity to bend appropriately, but not so supple that they flop over.

Not too stiff, not too soft… just the right balance. Each species of tree has worked out its appropriate equilibrium—according to its height and shape. Furthermore, each individual tree must adapt that balance to its particular location—accounting for the soil its roots have delved into and the degree of its exposure to the weather. Only the fittest thrive.

A tree has to endure challenging conditions far beyond what we feeble humans can tolerate. A venerable oak must stand its ground for several hundred years—resistant not only to gales, but to the assaults of temperature extremes, diseases, insect invasions, and droughts. When things get tough we mobile critters can run for cover, but a tree must stubbornly stand and face it all.

No wonder we look up to a tree towering above us and find ourselves filled with awe. That awesome feeling can swell within us, when we watch that mighty trunk deeply bow to a strong wind, but then sprightly spring back upright. It’s like watching a ballet.

Moon Rising Over Ridge

Sacred Creativity

I’ve written before (12/4/08) on creativity and how it can emerge when one enters the silence. Adherents of wisdom traditions the world over have long understood that, by slowing down and placing attention to the divine void, inventive and imaginative insights come. Every creature naturally seeks and exhibits creativity. We all understand that creativity is life-affirming, that it nurtures life. Similarly, life itself is creative, in that it is continually evolving and persevering.

But creativity demands a lot from us. It’s hard work. Although we may inherently comprehend that creativity is sacred and crucial to our survival and success, we also have an innate lazy streak. It’s far easier to coast downhill than struggle uphill, thus our potential for imagination and resourcefulness can quickly turn to the vacancy of dullness and repetition. Creativity also requires us to take a risk—to step into the unknown and chance failure. Many artists who once creatively displayed great talent later opt for financial success and status; with the result that their output becomes monotonous, as they try to attain popularity by endlessly copying themselves or the latest trend.

One beautiful aspect of creativity is that it’s an equal opportunity quality. No matter our circumstances—whether rich or poor, free or imprisoned, capable or handicapped—we can be creative. Some of the most oppressed and disempowered people have achieved autonomy and freedom by exhibiting imagination and creativity. Blacks in America and South Africa finally gained some measure of civil rights by becoming nonviolently creative; facing the oppressive machinery of the state. Helen Keller—blind and deaf—overcame her adversities to become an inspiration to millions.

And that’s what is most important about creativity: when we use what we gain from it by inspiring and teaching others. We can give no greater gift than to use our skills to help others to realize what wonders await them if they pause, go inward, seek inspiration from the divine void, and touch their creative source.

Dove at Feeder