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IF BIRDS HAD BINOCULARS....
We do a lot of bird watching these days. Bruce has a list of over 90 different
species of feathered friends we’ve sighted during the past year.
We take our binoculars and bird book with us on nature walks at the Gulf
shore, in birding centers in the Rio Grande Valley and in state parks
wherever we may be traveling.
Sometimes our necks get stiff from looking up to study the tree tops.
Our hands may cramp from holding the weight of the binoculars. We like to
go birding with someone who knows more about birds than we do. We have so
much to learn because so far one of our most commonly used phrases is,
"Whoops! There he goes!"
The other day we were admiring some black bellied whistling ducks
perched high in a dead tree. We took a closer look with our binoculars
only to discover that the ducks were looking down directly at us! A crazy
thought entered my mind: What if birds had binoculars and could thus study
the people below who were watching them?
Having no arms or hands, it might be hard for them to balance field
glasses. But, despite that reality check, what would they notice? How
would they identify us? The genus and species would be easy – we’re
all Homo sapiens – but what common names might they give us?
Perhaps there would be:
Alex the Angry
Bonnie the Book Woman
Nathan the Noisy
Dora the Dizzy.
No doubt the avian people-watchers would take note of the color of our
skin and hair. Maybe they would identify:
Patty the Pale-face
Randy the Red-head
Grady the Gray Beard
Tanned Tony
Silver Curls Sylvia
Sunburned Sue
Brown Betty.
Surely the size and shape of the folks far below would be observed by
the high flying feathered sleuths. We might be categorized as:
Fat Freddy
Skinny Minnie
Round Roberta
Bony Bob
Mike with Middle-aged Spread
Bottom-heavy Bertha
Bald Barry.
Observing humans, I doubt if the birds could tell the males from the
females solely by the intensity of color. They might have to resort to
body shape or clothing being worn. But this distinction might be difficult
from a distance even with binoculars. (With some folks, I’m not always
sure about gender when I’m looking them in the eye!)
Would our behavior also be noted by those "binoculared birds"
in their notebooks? Would their notes include such things as:
Slow Sam
Evelyn Eat-a-Lot
Whistling Willie
Dave with the Dog
Orange Hat Orville
Biking Byron
Walking Wilbur?
I wonder if our home territory or – worse yet – our personality
traits might be apparent to those birdy "eyes in the skies"?
Could they possibly record attitudes like these?
The Northern Nincompoop
The Knock-kneed Know-it-All
The Rocky Mountain Sly
The Southern Snoot
The Louisiana Lead-Foot
The Great Lakes’ Gad-about
The Connecticut Con-Person
The Southwest Sassy
The Texas Tailgater
The Eastern Early-Person
The Long-legged Loafer
The Pennsylvania Pessimist
The Western Whippersnapper
The Bayside Back-stabber
The Tropical Tattle-tale
The King-of-the-Road Runner.
Considering all these possibilities, I’m glad birds don’t have
binoculars. People are hard enough on each other without the advantage of
a treetop view!
5 May 2009 - mshr
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