People who think that the list of sports ends with golf, hockey, and football have never been mist-netting. Imagine a soccer goal net, only the mesh is at least ten-times finer, oh, and invisible once raised against a shrubby background. I wait hidden nearby, watching as a bird flies overhead. BAM! Sprinting, I get to the net before the bird can even figure out why it can’t move. Now, the puzzle. For the super-short period between capture and seizure, it manages to tangle itself in the netting it can’t even see. Head, feet, tail, all squirming, in and out, in and out, like mama’s sewing, a tangled mess like the endless mass of Christmas lights you first pull out of the dusty old box in the basement. When I get its head out its wing gets caught again, and the net is now catching the button on my shirt sleeve. I glare at the net, reminded that it’s still anyone’s game. TIME OUT! I roll up my sleeves and continue. After five minutes of nimble fingerings and acrobatic maneuvering of feathers comes FREEDOM. I hold the bird firmly in my hand. Celebration? Not quite yet, but victory is one step closer. The final half comes down to more precise maneuvers. I grab my pliers. I hold my squirming opponent immobilized, and the bird is down for the count. One, two, three, I grab a numbered metal ring and slip it around the bird’s leg, four, five, six, seven, the pliers glint in the sun as it bends the ring closed, eight, nine, TEN! Finally the round is over and I stand triumphant with my now-banded bird. I record the specifics of the victory (opponent name and description, location and number of win, etc) in the score sheet known to me as “data log” then release my opponent, wishing it nothing but good happenings. In return, the bird excretes on my shirt before taking off. Some may say it’s a sign of bad sportsmanship, but I wear it like a badge. Biologists: 1, Birds: 0. Let the games begin.
(One of my old short stories, slightly edited. I thought it would be a fun interlude to my more serious writings. Hope you enjoy!)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
An Unusual Day at the Park
I was at the park (indirectly) feeding the herons when something happened that was so... unexpected... that I feel like I have to write about it.
It started off as any other day at the park. I had to wait for my friend to finish a meeting so I decided to go feed the herons. It was a sunny day so I was glad that I had gone to a local drugstore to pick up a tiny travel tube of sunscreen. I had also picked up two packs of hotdog buns, to feed the fish that swarmed around the crumbs and provided easy catchings to my heron friends. This park was infamous for its homeless population, and many people avoided it for this reason, but I didn't mind. When I started throwing bread bits into the canal, I was approached by an older man. He was tanned and speckled, with a highligher-yellow shirt and cross around his neck. He was homeless. I've been approached by homeless people before, usually asking for money. However, this time was different. He started to talk to me, and I listened.
He asked me about where I grew up and where I went to school. When I told him I had just finished college in NY, he asked me about the homeless problem there. I replied that it was a lot harder to be homeless in NY because of the winters. He remarked that a friend had told him something similar, something along the lines of "you'll freeze your nuts off" (he then pardoned himself for his language). He asked about the drug problems in NY, which I had no idea about really. He said that I was doing a good thing by staying away from drugs, and told me about his ice addiction and further demonstrated the harmful effects by showing me his missing front teeth. he talked about his old love and the hardships that followed. He also told me about how he had joined the military and did not go to college. "If I had to do it all over again," he said, "I would have gone to college. Become a pilot. Then I could've attracted any girl, even you!" His eyes twinkled despite the regret. I couldn't help but laugh. "See, I made you laugh" he said.
For the next two hours he shared his stories, each in rapid succession. I mostly listened, but I answered his questions and chimed in once in a while. He never asked me for any money, he just asked to use my phone. The first call was to a local radio station to find out what had been going on at another park he was at earlier that day. The second call was to leave a message on a pastor's voicemail. He told me he wanted to become a pastor because he had felt the spirit of God and it was what was keeping him going. Before he left he got down on his knees and prayed for me (quite fervently) three times, and after the third time told me that I had taught him many things without really saying anything. I will never know what he had "learned" from me, but then again it's really not my place to know. He then revealed to me that he could sense that I would do something big, something important, but he didn't say what. Finally, he couldn't resist so he told me a few Port-a-gee (local slang for Portuguese) jokes as a finale. I chuckled. "See, I made you laugh again." he said.
So in all, it was an interesting experience. By then my friend was done with her meeting and I met her at the mall across the street. We went shopping for a birthday present for her dad then went to pick up dinner. Life continued as it had been, but I think that this encounter will stick with me for the rest of my life.
It started off as any other day at the park. I had to wait for my friend to finish a meeting so I decided to go feed the herons. It was a sunny day so I was glad that I had gone to a local drugstore to pick up a tiny travel tube of sunscreen. I had also picked up two packs of hotdog buns, to feed the fish that swarmed around the crumbs and provided easy catchings to my heron friends. This park was infamous for its homeless population, and many people avoided it for this reason, but I didn't mind. When I started throwing bread bits into the canal, I was approached by an older man. He was tanned and speckled, with a highligher-yellow shirt and cross around his neck. He was homeless. I've been approached by homeless people before, usually asking for money. However, this time was different. He started to talk to me, and I listened.
He asked me about where I grew up and where I went to school. When I told him I had just finished college in NY, he asked me about the homeless problem there. I replied that it was a lot harder to be homeless in NY because of the winters. He remarked that a friend had told him something similar, something along the lines of "you'll freeze your nuts off" (he then pardoned himself for his language). He asked about the drug problems in NY, which I had no idea about really. He said that I was doing a good thing by staying away from drugs, and told me about his ice addiction and further demonstrated the harmful effects by showing me his missing front teeth. he talked about his old love and the hardships that followed. He also told me about how he had joined the military and did not go to college. "If I had to do it all over again," he said, "I would have gone to college. Become a pilot. Then I could've attracted any girl, even you!" His eyes twinkled despite the regret. I couldn't help but laugh. "See, I made you laugh" he said.
For the next two hours he shared his stories, each in rapid succession. I mostly listened, but I answered his questions and chimed in once in a while. He never asked me for any money, he just asked to use my phone. The first call was to a local radio station to find out what had been going on at another park he was at earlier that day. The second call was to leave a message on a pastor's voicemail. He told me he wanted to become a pastor because he had felt the spirit of God and it was what was keeping him going. Before he left he got down on his knees and prayed for me (quite fervently) three times, and after the third time told me that I had taught him many things without really saying anything. I will never know what he had "learned" from me, but then again it's really not my place to know. He then revealed to me that he could sense that I would do something big, something important, but he didn't say what. Finally, he couldn't resist so he told me a few Port-a-gee (local slang for Portuguese) jokes as a finale. I chuckled. "See, I made you laugh again." he said.
So in all, it was an interesting experience. By then my friend was done with her meeting and I met her at the mall across the street. We went shopping for a birthday present for her dad then went to pick up dinner. Life continued as it had been, but I think that this encounter will stick with me for the rest of my life.
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