WWWWD?

Dear Maria,

Had to laugh this very chilly morning when a mockingbird had the temerity—yes, the temerity—to perch on top of the bluebird condo. I don’t know how far the three male bluebirds came distance-wise, but they zoomed into the oak nearest the house, and in less than ten seconds the mockingbird retreated high into a neighbor’s pine. The bluebirds disappeared back into the direction they came from a moment earlier.

I thought I might have seen a squadron of bluebirds late yesterday afternoon. After I cleaned and refilled the bird feeder and the birdbath, a swirling fly-in of small birds came calling. The aerial comings and goings included Tufted Titmouses—Titmice? Not likely, but what do I know—White-breasted Nuthatches, Carolina Chickadees, at least one House Finch, and a pair of Carolina Wrens that kept to the bath and the patio. But, no bluebird patrol to be seen. Of course, none of the afternoon’s visitors landed on the condo.

The unwritten rules only occasionally allowed two species to be on the feeder at the same time. More often than not there would be a bird or two that would speed in for a landing and the feeding bird would rocket off to a nearby branch. No physical contact—or at least I didn’t see any—but sometimes a bit of threatening fluttering was the persuader to get a bird moving off. The nuthatches were the most flagrant aggressors.

All done in a matter of fifteen minutes or so. Max watched the flurry with some interest, but with nothing like his enthusiasm for getting out the door and after squirrels.

Thanks for your kind response to one of the poems I published. Well, I say published, but for a number of friends and family, posted would have to be the word. Several folks have asked if or when I might publish something, and I understand that they mean as in book form. Of course, I am much more the fan of the physical book, but for now I am releasing some of my writing via Blogger.

Several times in front of my classes, I voiced my belief that a number of self-publishers and writers who relied on publishing houses would have enthusiastically embraced the new media. A guy like Walt Whitman? Leaves of Grass, one tweet at a time. Or Emerson, or Thoreau, or Pound.

And now, posted thoughts, feelings, secrets even—stuff that may be shared with strangers around the world. Ebooks, blogs, posts, tweets. We are nearly all of us publishers now.

For me, one reader is enough. Not my livelihood. Obviously. By the way, hope you are finding some time to write, a little at least.

November and the season’s energy are soon to build. Good wishes to you and your family.

Yours, srk