QUEER SIGHT

“The Northern Lights have seen queer sights. . .” The first line from Robert Service’s awesome, epic poem, ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’; I would take some liberty with his genius. I would say, “This town’s stop lights have seen queer sights. . .” This town only has a few stop lights but they have glamorized Main Street in the last year with new intersections. Streets are still run-of-the-mill, black asphalt but the new intersections have gray concrete crosswalks with red paver tile in the middle. I have no way of knowing why; the old ones got the job done but maybe something to do with ‘Keeping up with’ the Lee’s Summit’s and Raymore’s. What-ever; I’m stuck on the horns of whether or not to feel better about myself, at least when I cross through one of these intersections. 

The other day, during the mid-morning doldrum when there is no traffic to speak of, I was driving a side street that crosses Main Street. As I approached the corner the light turned yellow. I now give yellow lights the same respect as the red, I stop if at all possible; not in that much of a hurry to get anywhere and it’s not a contest anymore. I know it upsets drivers in the two cars behind me but then, ‘Ces’t la vie’. Slowing down to make the stop, I noticed on the curb across the street a medium size black bird. No iridescent color, not a grackle, tail feathers too long for a starling but there are all kinds of blackbirds and this was one. It stood right on the edge of the curb, facing the corner across the way, giving me a great profile. My light turned red, Main Street got the green. I know this sounds like a bar joke; “A blackbird goes into a bar and says to the bartender. . .“ but the blackbird walked through the intersection from my right to left, in the middle of the crosswalk. The street is just two lanes and the bird reached the far curb well before the light changed, turned 90 degrees to its left and stood facing me across the diagonal. I thought, ‘I don’t believe this.’ The light changed and I had to decide; do I watch or do I go? There was no other traffic so I waited. The light cycled and we waited through another red. On the second green light the blackbird stepped down off the curb and started across Main Street. I took my foot off the brake and proceed north on Grandview Road. 

Like a loop film on YouTube, I ran and re-ran that imagery, again and again. I’m not crazy and my eye sight isn’t that bad. What a bird! It’s always tempting to anthropomorphize, attributing human traits to lower (if you will) animals and we do it all the time. With a brain no bigger than a lima bean, the blackbird was not pondering the risks of walking against the light. But it did walk across the street, in the crosswalk, with the light. What are the odds agains that? Then after a short rest, it began the same behavior again, with the light. I was impressed; I'm still impressed. I don’t know the end of the story; maybe it’s a better story if I don’t.

In the long story of evolution, birds are no different than other animals in that life is a precarious, dangerous endeavor. Leaning heavily on intelligence and culture, we enjoy an abudnace of high quality food and a body that stores large amounts of energy. Animals, birds in particular, don’t enjoy that adaptation. A bird’s energy budget does not allow for mistakes. To make a complicated story simple; they don’t burn energy for no good reason. It takes more energy to stand up than to lie down; that’s why you see lions lying down all the time. They’re not lazy. Meals may be few and far between and they have to share so it's, lie down and conserve energy between the hard working, food forays. Birds are in the same energy crunch. Walking burns less energy than flying and well developed feet and legs are not just for perching. I’m thinking that little, bean size brain is fully engaged with finding food, procretion, fleeing danger and conserving energy. I don’t think there are enough brain cells left to ponder crosswalks or stop lights. But it was a queer sight, ‘neath the Main Street light, it’s the truth I give you my word; this flying machine, all feathered and lean, a pedestrian, cross walking bird.