Hey tweets, This morning I heard a California quail calling from the trees
just north of the main pond! I haven't encountered a quail at the Fill for
years, ever since the CUH began its blackberry-clearing activities. Mind
you, I support getting rid of invasive plants, but there's no denying that
ridding the Fill of blackberry bushes also rid us of quail, many sparrows
and high populations of rufous hummingbirds.

After so many years of quail-less mornings, it was good to know that a quail
thinks the Fill habitable again. To me it's a sign of the resiliency of many
bird species.

I know that the earth is in trouble from habitat destruction, and I also
know that species that have very picky needs regarding nest sites or food
are on the brink of extinction. But rather than allow myself to sink into
gloom about everything that's wrong with us, I prefer to focus on the things
that are going right. I find this more inspiring, whereas homing in on gloom
and doom merely makes me want to go back to bed and start eating food that's
bad for me.

Here's a case in point. Last night, my husband and I attended one of the
numerous grand openings of the Sci Fi Museum down at the EMP in Seattle
Center. John was a VIP because he had given a talk to the sci fi writers
gathered for the Nebula Awards (sci fi's equivalent of the Oscars). John was
the token scientist at the awards dinner. He's an extremely gifted speaker
with a particular talent for making the most complex science seem
commonsensical. The sci fi writers were impressed enough with him to invite
him to the grand opening of the museum. So last night we strolled down the
red carpet that led into the museum, while local TV reporters filmed us on
the off chance that we might really be someone important whom they just
couldn't recognize at the moment but might be able to ID later when they
looked in the field guides. The reporters were clustered thickly along the
sidewalk all the way from the limo dropoff at the curb to the entrance into
the museum. All the museum guests had to pass in review in front of them.
John called it the perp walk.

Inside, we ran into some very famous sci fi writers and movie stars. I won't
name-drop here; suffice it to say that I, as a low-rung writer, was highly
gratified to meet some of these people and find out that they are really
pretty darn ordinary. They spill satay sauce down their fronts, get lettuce
stuck between their teeth, wear shoes that are too tight, and drink too much
alcohol. I discovered that they fall into two main camps: those who have a
happy-face outlook on the future (ala Star Trek), and those who think we're
about to fall off the ecological cliff and sink back into the primordial
ooze, the quicker the better.

Along with the writers and stars were hordes of fans, many of whom had
dressed for the occasion. By "dressed" I mean they were made up to look like
aliens.

At one time when I was raising kids, I got the notion that our family should
experience a cultural event every weekend. So I dragged everyone to events
such as horse shows, cat shows, Scottish festivals, street fairs, etc. I
wanted the kids to see how richly endowed with goofiness our species is. Or,
to put it more scientifically, how diverse our species is, both
morphologically and culturally. It is the greatest strength of our species,
that we are so diverse.

Prior to last night, I always thought the cat show people were the weirdest.
But they are nothing compared to the sci fi fans. My favorite cosmic
cross-dressers were a couple of old folks wearing short capes, tights and
huge globes atop their heads. The globes were adorned with flashing colored
lights. I liked these aliens better than the two walking haystacks who
rustled along trying to keep upright the twirler batons stuck on their
heads. I don't know about you, but I don't trust a haystack who won't make
eye contact; I wasn't altogether sure that these haystacks even had eyes, or
where they kept them if they did.

Now, you might think these people had hit the narrow end of the bell curve
when it comes to goofiness. And you would be right. But looking deeper, you
would also have to see that these people were expressing a gentle love for
"the other" and a serious commitment to the idea that the future, when we do
finally encounter other life forms, will be bright and beautiful.

Is it naive to believe in that future, despite all evidence that humanity is
perched on the edge of the apocalyptic cliff, and rather precariously so? I
say no. If you want to have some control over the kind of future you live
in, then you have to be able to envision that future so that you are
inspired to work for it and make it come true.

Yes, humans have messed up the natural world. But that only means that
humans have the power to fix up the natural world, too. Much of what we do
that affects the world lies within our power to choose.

How I wish I could take all those people by the hand at the convention last
night, and all the people who walk to Husky Stadium for football games, and
lead them to the edge of the main pond. I would ask them to be silent and
listen, and they would hear the eerie call of one lone quail, who thinks the
Fill is habitable again. And they would be filled with the awesome beauty
that is our Earth.

Here's everything I saw this morning:
great blue heron
Canada goose
mallard
gadwall
cinnamon teal
blue-winged teal
killdeer
glaucous-winged gull
red-tailed hawk
bald eagle (catching a fish in his claws)
California quail
Vaux's swift
Anna's hummingbird
northern flicker
violet-green swallow
tree swallow
cliff swallow
barn swallow
black-capped chickadee
cedar waxwing
American crow
Bewick's wren
marsh wren
American robin
European starling
spotted towhee
song sparrow
savannah sparrow
white-crowned sparrow
red-winged blackbird
brown-headed cowbird
American goldfinch
house finch - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com