Debwe

We had three by 9:00 this morning.  Omiimii returned with a mate (I’ll have the picture later); as did Biiy with one member of his harem.  But at 8:08 this morning, we had a pair of incredible visitors:  Zhaawaanag (bluebirds).

These were western bluebirds, slightly smaller than the western blue jay.  We’ve had both species here occasionally over the last few days, but only individual birds; never a pair like this.  For some cultures (although not ours’) bluebirds are good luck; I think seeing a pair this close to the house is a good omen in any belief system.

Well, Wabooz didn’t return today, but he certainly brought me more than enough good things over the last couple of days.  Omiimii did come back - twice - but he was adamant about not being photographed.  He did visit come close to the kitchen twice, though, and let me talk to him through the window.  Gorgeous white, with gray tailfeathers and single gray band about his throat.

I did manage to snap a couple of blurry pix of the first house finches (biiyag) we’ve had this winter.  You can’t tell from the photo, but the one in the middle is the male (flanked by his two-bird harem).  The females are a delicate brown and white with rows of tiny brown spots running down throat and chest.  The male has some of the same brown and white, but his head is scarlet; the color extends down his neck, blending into the brown at the shoulders.  Amid his tailfeathers is a spot of scarlet.

Bird dodems symbolize communications roles.  And today - after a month of trying - I got a call from the receptionist for a local pain specialist, telling me they could get me in to see him at the end of the month.  It’s virtually impossible to get in to see this guy, since he’s only in this office a couple of days out of each month.  And, no, I can’t afford it - but he’s the BF’s specialist, and the BF told him about me, and the guy’s sure he can help, so . . . .  We’ll see.  i’m ready to try about anything at this point, so right now, this is very good news.

Wabooz was back this morning, not that you can tell from the picture.  (He’s under the end of the flatbed.)

Two phone calls: 

The second was from our Web host, saying that he thinks he’s fixed the problem that’s downed W’s business site since Thanksgiving.

The first (which apparently actually came yesterday, but I didn’t get until today) was from an old colleague, with an offer of occasional freelance gigs over the next two years.

Wabooz is a representative of Nanaboozhoo (in our belief system, a bit of a cross between Christianity’s Jesus and Adam, with a twist of trickster thrown in for good measure), and a symbol of the gift of knowledge that Nanaboozhoo imparted to the two-leggeds.  For some bands, he’s also a clan dodem, with responsibilities for hunting and gathering (i.e., for feeding the people).  I should have known that his appearance two days running (especially yesterday, so close) was an omen.

Life is good. 

Today there were three new visitors:  Omiimii (dove), shown here; and early this morning, two waaboozhoog (rabbits).

January 2 is very early here for the doves; they’re usually further south.  After all, it was ten below or more last night.  This dove was unusually large, too; it landed on the feeder, then flew to the tree, where it promptly got stuck, spread-eagled between two branches.  It flew away before I could get my camera; an hour or so later, dignity recovered, it was back again.

About 7:30 this morning, as I was standing at the kitchen sink, I saw out of the corner of my eye movement on the ground around the bird feeder.  I looked up, expecting to see a large bird, and instead saw an unusually large rabbit - your basic cottontail, but the size of a jackrabbit.  Eventually he scampered back to the barn, where he met up with a buddy, and they romped in the snow between the horses’ pens and the studio.  Amazingly, the dogs neither barked at them nor chased them - shocking in dogs with prey drives as strong as theirs are.  Eventually, Waboozh 1 came back to the barn and spent the next half-hour scavenging for seeds under the horse trailers.

Later this week I’ll get to some substantive issues, but for now I’m still in the whole New Year mood thing, so I’m just enjoying our guests.  And we’ll probably have a few more later this week, since we’re supposed to get quite a bit more snow.

It’s fitting that this should be Debwe’s inaugural post. 

New Year’s Day, 2008, and we were blessed with a visitor:  baatezhiiwiish (junco). 

After when we lost Makwakezens on September 30th, we kept her ashes on a windowsill in the studio, so that she can have plenty of light.  Immediately, birds began flying into the studio, apparently seeking an audience with our new manitou animosh (spirit dog).  Unfortunately, as so often happens when birds find their way into enclosed spaces, they try to fly out the closed windows and get concussed. 

A couple of months ago, I carried a stunned Oregon female junco out of the studio; she allowed me to hold her, and in fact wouldn’t leave my hand.  Finally, I put her on the feeder, and after about an hour, she recovered enough to eat and fly away.

Today, this male pink-sided junco found himself in similar straits.  W rescued him and brought him up to the house so that I could see him.  For about 15 minutes, he stayed right here, cocking his head and listening intently to our every word, following us with his eyes, and allowing us to stroke his feathers. 

Eventually, W drew his hand up to his face and rested the tip of his nose against the junco’s beak, then held him up to me.  The bird’s right side was facing me, so I rested my face against his feathers and gave him a kiss.  He cocked his head so that his eyes stared right into mine, and he squinted them open and shut as though contented.  Finally, he sat still for W to get two pictures, turning his head to look straight at the camera. Ultimately, he flew to the ground and retired under the deck to finish recuperating. 

We get spirit birds here somewhat regularly; spirit animals, too.  Occasionally, we get the sort of spirit that the dogs can perceive, but we can’t - apart from a certain electricity in the air, combined with the sound of windchimes or the faint scent of cedar or sage on a windless day.  We also get injured animals; they know this place is a sanctuary for them.  But what a blessing to begin the new year with a visit from such a messenger, and this kind of trust from one of the Winged Ones.

Happy New Year.