The Badger Has Come To Roost

The badger. The most feared and hated beast in the history of beasts. The first beast that made it quite apparent that beastiality was a terrible idea. I have met many a badger victim in my lifetime......they are withdrawn, hesitant to look you in the eye, and never speak above a whisper. Always, they are horribly scarred, and sometime the mental scars are even more glaring than the physical ones. When I ask about these people about their badger attacks, they never get very far into their stories. It's always something like "I thought it was just a nightmare....." or "It came from behind...." or "I never even saw it.....".....survivors of badger attacks always seem to trail off, their eyes growing distant after just uttering a few words. Grown men are reduced to whimpering children, shadows of their former selves. It has become apparent to me that once you see that snarling, gray blur going for your ankles, that there simply cannot be a God. No omnipotent being would unleash something as cruel as this onto the earth unless he had a deep, profound hatred of mankind.

Fortunately, this friendly fellow (or loveable lass?) didnt do much more than look at me, even though I ended up standing right next to him, and I have lived to tell the tale. Buddy The Badger here was photographed about a year ago north of Susanville, California. He lived in the sagebrush next to a homeless man (this is true) who had no business living in the sagebrush. San Diego and Arcata have good habitat for homeless people......not The Great Basin. I have wondered occasionally what has happened to that badger and his homeless comrade (indeed, the badger's burrow was much more impressive than the guy's "camp") in the past year. Is Buddy still alive? Is Buddy in the same burrow? Even on the same hill?

Mammals rarely leave the impression on me that birds do, so my encounter with Buddy was a special occasion, and serves as a good marker for events that have unfolded in the last year. What have I accomplished? Have I gained valuable new experiences necessary for my survival, or am I just putting on fat and sitting in the same dirty burrow that I was last year? Its a mixed answer, to be sure.

Something (was it the badger?) told me in the back of my mind last year that I was not going to become a permanent fixture in San Francisco, although I have (and continue to) enjoy it for the most part. In Y2K7, the year The Badger Has Come To Roost, my only epic trip I made after moving to San Francisco was for THANKSFORNOTHINGY2K7, which remains one of the most positve and violence free weekends Ive ever had. This year, which has yet to be named, I have made escapes to The Imperial Valley and environs, southeast Arizona, Mono Lake, and now all the stops on the PANAMERICANPERPETUALWEEKENDY2K8 are being lined up. The shadow of Midway Island looms over me like The Plague, consuming me. The writing is on the wall. I must escape. The year of the albatross is at hand.

Ed Ricketts Knew...Giddy Fish-Fever.....PANAMERICANPERPETUALWEEKENDY2K8

"He believed that the soul of a non-drinker was dried up and shrunken, that the virtuous pose of the non-drinker was a cover for some nameless and disgusting practice....He would even try to recall one single man or woman of much ability who did not drink and like liquor, and he could never light on a single name."

- John Steinbeck on Ed Ricketts, from The Log from the Sea of Cortez.

So I know its the 21st century and all, but you can call me old fashioned. Sometimes, I like to read books. Its true. Or, as I would say in my old-timey vernacular, "Why yes, I do fancy me a bout of good readin'. There taint nothin like curlin up with a right dandy book and a warm woman next to the ol' kerosene lamp, with the coyotes (pronounce it "kai-oats") a-howlin and that dern' whip-poor-whill raisin' a ruckus out by the old maple tree in back".

Hmmm.....that was an interesting blend of Victorian and Hick. But the point is that books are valuable......not just to explain how to tell apart Magnificent and Great Frigatebirds (that would really be useful, because I surely dont know), but for inspiration and wisdom. Im on a Steinbeck binge at the moment, and perhaps more accurately an Ed Ricketts binge. When I last read The Sea of Cortes and Cannery Row, I was too young (altricial?) to fully appreciate these books on the levels that they deserve.

There is a distinct feeling about it all, although it is not made obvious, that both Steinbeck and Ricketts had a stronge sense of Nothing, which most of my colleagues understand and appreciate. I am concerned that birders have no knowledge of this, no concept. And I will refrain of diving into this now, because I am very passionate about it. Ye who do not know do not need to know.

Anyhow. Enough of the vague bullshit. I think that on some level, some deranged and atavistic part of my brain is trying to find some way to do Nothing......for the rest of my life. Birds are crucial for this. They spend a lot of time doing absolutely nothing....they are an inspiration, and I plan on being paid to learn what they know. The birder may ask, "Why Steve, what is this nonsense you speak of? Have you not observed the hyper hummingbird? The kinetic kinglet? The nonstop nighthawk? Your hypothesis, dear fellow, is pure rubbish."

Well, why the fuck do I have to get up so goddamn early in the morning to look for them? Because they spend most of the day not doing anything. They sit around, looking at all the silly animals who actually have something to do, pity them and occasionally nod off.

Have you seen a brown booby in California? Oh, seven you say? Well....what were they all doing? Sitting on a rock perhaps? Not doing anything? Thats what Im talking about. And of course there are the bitterns, the herons, the hawks and the eagles that make a living by sitting in one spot for hours on end waiting for the right animal to lurk by to eat. As a Scientist, I can tell you that these animals do not get bored. If they did, they would starve, because it probably takes immense patience and interest in looking around at seemingly uninteresting things in order for them to eat. Yes, drunkenly staggering around in a giddy fish-fever works for the Reddish Egret but not other birds.

Speaking of drunkenly staggering around, I have decided to go on tour this fall, with dates in Monterey Bay, east Texas, and now Milwaukee, Wisconsin. As of today, the title for this group of travels is "PANAMERICANPERPETUALWEEKENDY2K8". Hopefully I can coerce my colleague in Wisconsin to do some birding with me.....this would be very conducive for me to reacquaint myself with some eastern birds I havent seen in a few years, and possibly a few that Ive never seen before....Cape May Warbler? Kentucky Warbler? You never know. Its shaping up to be a very positive fall.