I live in the Central Flyway, that magnificent migration
route from the northern reaches of the Canadian wilderness to Central and South
America.
At the turn of the 20th Century, Sandy Griswold, sports
reporter for the Omaha World Herald
wrote of the 1890s crane migration, “. . . they came down like gray and
snowy avalanches from the far north in the blustery days of March.
In my grandmother’s childhood, the ducks and geese came in
clouds that dimmed the sun, flapping and gabbling, lighting in meadows and
cornfields, snapping up grubs and grain to fatten and prepare themselves for
the serious business of breeding and producing a new generation of waterfowl to
darken the sky.
In the Sandhills up north, the shorebirds came to the wet
meadows, lakes formed when the water table extended above the surface of the
sand; striding on stilted legs, they joined the ducks and geese in stirring up
the water and consuming water bugs, water plants, and seeds.
Farther east, in the Mississippi Flyway, came the passenger
pigeons that used to flow through the Great Lakes region at sixty miles per
hour darkening the skies morning to night for several days running, their flocks seeming to expand and contract
like living lungs breathing.
Now they come in lonely skeins, their cries nearly unheard in the empty skies, and the pigeons don’t come at all.
I’ve been rereading a National Geographic article about rats that I clipped some time ago. Entitled “In The City’s Shadow” and written by Emma Marris, it begins with this sentence. “Rats are our shadow selves.”
Mostly the article focuses on why we hate rats and how we
try to exterminate them, but rats have redeeming social value.One of those
redeeming qualities got my attention right away. Marris quotes a study showing
that rats will free other rats from cages—instead of gorging on chocolate. Now
that’s some sacrifice for a brother!
Marris also quotes New York City rodentologist Bobby
Corrigan, who says that rats clean up after us, surviving and thriving on our
garbage. Like maggots now being used to debreed dead flesh around burns and
wounds, rats eat garbage we leave in our streets and alleyways.
In Tribeca Park, Corrigan says, rats hunt and kill pigeons,
another of our least-favored forms of urban wildlife. “They leap on [the
pigeons’] backs like a leopard on the Serengeti.” On the other hand, they provide
food for urban hawks and owls, like that peregrin falcon that nests somewhere
on a ledge in Chicago.
Rats provide high-protein food that might be important in
our predicted food-starved future. Polynesian explorers took Pacific rats along
for food when they settled various islands in the Pacific. The CEO of a trust
in New Zealand that guards the rats they call kiore says that they’re half the
size of New York rats and they’re “all nice and fluffy and tasty
looking.” They even maintain a rat sanctuary on the North Island.
So let’s hear it for the rats, while most of us hope for a population collapse—except for those tasty Pacific rats and kangaroo rats that stay out everybody’s way.
Here’s a podcast that aired on radio station KZUM a couple of years ago.
Whew! I finally got my new novel See Willy See sent off to the printer and ebook distributor. Seems like there are always new hoops to jump through, especially since I’m using a new print-on-demand organization. I may have to reformat my table of contents, but that’s pretty minor compared to days of saving and resaving in different formats to meet printer requirements. Anyhow, I just read Margie Lukas’s novel River People and I wanted to share my thoughts. I read her first and this is as good as her first. Wow!
River People
Coffins or arks? What will you choose to build?
In her historical novel, River
People, Margaret Lukas harkens back to a time when women and children were
barely more than chattel. It’s an old
story of women’s abuse at the hands of men, but Lukas makes it new by
showing us into the heart and damaged mind of the primary male abuser.
Belonging challenges the characters each in her (or his) own way as they struggle to assert their identities. The central villain, Rev. Jackdaw, struggles with gender identity. Effie tries to think herself better than her neighbors, terrified that her life will become as hard as theirs. Henry, known as Chief, finds himself separate because he’s a half-breed. Bridget suffers from abandonment. Her parents left, her uncle died, she sent her own grandmother back to Ireland so she wouldn’t die, the Reverend calls her Rooster—even her name’s in question.
Bridget is the novel’s main character. Her parents left her behind when they immigrated to the U.S. She and her grandmother try to follow, but in America Bridget becomes, for all purposes, an orphan. But she maintains tenuous hope, unlike many of the other characters. Bridget believes in her mythological warrior heroine Nera, and in her connection to the natural world. “The river, Wilcox [a tree] and all trees, the sky with flying stars, Jake [the ox]. It was all connected and all of it loved her. She was at home in the wide world . . . . when a person fits under heaven, she fits everywhere.”
Throughout the novel, Lukas forces her characters to make excruciating choices. When survival seems impossible, do you acquiesce or do you fight death? When forced to do—or even witness—cruel things, do you come to enjoy cruelty or can you resist? Can one always choose? Are some cruelties so severe that they warp the mind forever? Do fear and pain make cruelty inevitable? How does one small act of cruelty send ripples that expand into more and more lives?
Coffins or arks. In an historical tour de force I couldn’t
put down, Margaret Lukas asks existential questions at the core of our
humanity, and she does it with empathy and understanding.
River People Lukas’s second novel is as good as her first and that’s pretty great.
I’ve been missing in action this week online, but I did format my ebook, download a previously purchased ISBN for it, apply for a Library of Congress Control Number, send out an advance copy of the soon-to-be-released book for review, and find enough proofreading errors that I’ve been reading paperback galleys (again). So late, here’s my Carrot Ranch 99-words on unforgetting . . . I should mention, I stole Lou’s story about the bear.
No chance of unremembering Lou Ell. He was the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission wildlife photographer. A bachelor, he spent most of his time outdoors somewhere fulfilling his role as “photosnappishooter.”
On vacation, he shot a film on the Alaska brown bear. In one
spectacular sequence, he got between a sow and her cub. The momma attacked.
Backed against a cliff, Lou kept shooting. “Somebody will find the
camera,” he thought. Since he survived, he intended to make wildlife
movies.
I visited him once years later. He lived alone in the dark. You see, Lou had lost his sight.
To provide the best experiences, we use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behavior or unique IDs on this site. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
Functional
Always active
The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
Preferences
The technical storage or access is necessary for the legitimate purpose of storing preferences that are not requested by the subscriber or user.
Statistics
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for statistical purposes.The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for anonymous statistical purposes. Without a subpoena, voluntary compliance on the part of your Internet Service Provider, or additional records from a third party, information stored or retrieved for this purpose alone cannot usually be used to identify you.
Marketing
The technical storage or access is required to create user profiles to send advertising, or to track the user on a website or across several websites for similar marketing purposes.