Hey tweets, a pair of western scrub-jays is hanging out around Seattle
Academy (1432 15th). I figured they have moved in permanently, but maybe
they're just on extended leave. They are rather noisy and bold and seem to
be getting used to people.

On Friday last week, I was walking along 15th between Union and Pike, and
one of them was hopping along beside me, not more than four feet away. I was
carrying my briefcase; he was carrying a big round berry in his bill. I was
hurrying along as fast as I could, and he was hopping along just as fast. In
other words, we both had business to conduct. When I reached the entrance to
my office, the scrub-jay hopped up into a low tree. I nodded to him, he eyed
me, and then we went our separate ways.

Now, you can certainly make too much of a connection like that. As you see,
I am comparing this bird to a businesswoman, although I have to say that the
jay was better dressed than I was. But do I seriously think of this critter
as akin to me and my life? Aren't I anthropomorphizing him, and isn't that a
cardinal sin against science?

Well, these are issues worth thinking about. They have to do with deep
questions of our identity, our role in the world, and the meaning of nature
itself.

For me, the meaning of nature gives me insight into the meaning of life.

On the one hand, my life is a lot more complicated than the jay's, as my
brain is a lot bigger and contains more synapses. I live in a rich culture.
I have to vote, balance my checkbook, schedule some quality time with my
husband, take the car in for an oil change, and do the countless other
things that keep life humming along in the 21st century. On the day the jay
and I met, I had two interviews to tape, and a host of writing students to
work with. All the jay had to do was ponder how and when he was going to
swallow his berry, where he might find another, and whether merlins ever
visit Capitol Hill.

The differences between us, however, count for less than the fact that the
jay and I both live on this lovely planet together. He adds to the beauty of
life here, simply by existing. I wish you could have seen the glowing blue
of his feathers as the sunbeams washed him with a golden glow. Like me, you
might have stopped for a moment in the busy rush of the day to drink in the
colors of one of nature's most beautiful birds. You might have smiled at his
bright eyes, so calculating and inquisitive. You might have laughed out loud
at the size of his berry.

More than that, perhaps you would have felt the irresistible pull of the
bond between all living creatures, the bond that says, "You are more than
your schedule. You belong in the beauty." - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com