Dry? We should have checked the weather for the previous
day. Not so dry, methinks. It was saturated
underfoot. The paths between rows of tents selling wares were churned up
mud. The small margins of grass just
alongside the tents that weren’t mud were soggy. It was a welly wearing
event and I don’t have any wellies. I’m not one that forges ahead confidently
in mud or wet grass. Every footstep is cautiously
tested. I have fallen too often on dry ground for wet stuff not to be a hazard.
Yes, I minced delicately along, my socks soon wet in my trainers. The clouds
that had threatened for most of the morning broke in the early afternoon for
some warm sunshine. I fooled myself into
thinking it was drying out just a little.
The show arena was the just behind the
food tent. Food had been macaroni cheese
and chips – not really enough of either to justify the price they charged. The
tea was hot, though, and with the tea bag left in, strong too.
Something to do with birds of prey was being exhibited in
the arena.
The first bird to take to the stage was a very young owl. Not yet at
the flying stage, he was a brancher, out of the nest hopping along the branch but
not yet up to flying. It was his debut appearance. I learned a lot about owls.
Their eyes don’t move in their sockets. Their ears do all the hard work. When they fly silently it has nothing to do
with sneaking up on their prey unheard. It’s all about them not being able to
hear the sound of their own wings beating and being a distraction to hearing
their prey on the ground. Put food by
their feet and they are unable to see it and feel it out with their feet.
Interesting! He looked quite big and fluffy
and ran around a lot with his wings outstretched.
The next bird was an adult owl. He was quite happy to fly
from perch to hand and back to perch as long as he had the wind behind him. He
didn’t like flying into the wind, but was prepared to make the sacrifice for a
treat.
The third and final bird was quite a rarity – one of only
a few hundred in the country. I can’t remember the name of the bird or the
country of origin. Quick google – the caracara from the Falkland Islands that
goes by the alias Jonny Rook. Where according to the commentary owls are not as
wise as they are given credit for, this bird was the Einstein of the bird
world. He was also the boss of the bird criminal underworld – a nasty piece of
work.
Where owls and other bird species reared their young
responsibly, making sure they had taught them the skills to be successful hunters,
these caracaras were not so conscientious. It was all down to the food supply.
In a place where the food supply is limited, these birds had a “me-first”
mentality. They were not food sharers. When they had chicks they reared them.
They didn’t always take dead stuff to the nest but watched to see how cleanly,
or not, the live stuff could be dispatched and eaten by the chick. Once the
chick did that it was kicked out of the nest, violently, to fend for itself. Juvenile
birds would form a gang, maybe eight or nine birds, and egg each other on to
meanness.
They were not trusting birds. They had found out the hard
way that mum and dad couldn’t be trusted.
The gang they flew with couldn’t be trusted either. It was every
caracara for themselves.
I got to thinking about good parenting and bad parenting.
The owls were good parents, taking time to make sure their offspring had the
right tools to succeed. The owls had time to grow and learn how to fly. Mum and
dad didn’t trip up junior as he hopped along the branch. He flew when he was
ready to fly and not before.
The caracaras were not good parents. It was a practical
move to protect a limited food supply but junior didn’t get taught stuff, he
had to learn it for himself in a very hostile world.
I have been thinking about human parents. There are
plenty of parents that follow the owl way of doing things. The offspring they
send off into the world are well equipped for whatever challenges they face,
and they have all the tools necessary to be successful.
However, there are a lot of parents that are more like
Jonny Rook. For the birds they are simply being practical in kicking their
youngsters out of the nest to fend for themselves. Is there a kind way to do it
if you are worried about your own food supply? They end up creating the next
generation of caracaras that don’t know how to trust anyone or anything. These
are birds that opt for the pre-emptive strike – hit before the other bird hits
you. Strike first, ask questions later. Juvenile caracara birds learn how to
fend for themselves at an impossibly early age, hang around in gangs that
terrorise a neighbourhood and don’t trust authority figures because of their
parents. Perhaps part of the problem lies in the food poverty that the
caracaras live in. If there was an abundance of food, would they be better
parents?
So much of what happens in nature has a
people-application. How the next generation of people turns out depends very
much on us and how we treat them. It’s not the government’s job, or the
responsibility of teachers to take over the job of raising children. It’s not
only the parent’s job either to equip their children with the right tools. It’s
a communal thing – all of us together involved.
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