Just go for it this year

GO for it, in 2011. Have the courage to risk it. When my friend and I cannot arrive at a definite conclusion during our many and varied discussions, we chorus, “It is an imponderable”. We just love that word – it lets you painlessly off the hook.
For years, I have journeyed the road less travelled. An erstwhile friend once informed me spitefully, “the road less travelled is just that because it is a lonely and isolated place to be”. I disagree but that’s another day’s deliberation.
Studying the birds in the snowy weather and reflecting on human behaviour, the word “imponderable” popped up again. You know, I’m beginning to bore even myself with wittering on about animals and how we could learn so much – positive and negative – by observing their behaviour. My excuse is that I find the psychology of human interaction immeasurably fascinating. It seems to me that, generally, we learn nothing from head-to-heads with others, whilst animals/birds instinctively judge any given situation and act appropriately.
“If you want to be a psychological novelist and write about human beings, the best thing you can do is own a pair of cats,” – Aldous Huxley. Now, I’ve absolutely zero interest in writing a psychological novel but that quotation bears out my view. “How sweet it is to hear one’s own convictions from a stranger’s mouth,” – Goeth.
Hopefully, I saved the lives of some of our shivering, feathered friends during the recent snowy, weather. Cats, as everybody knows, despise inclement weather and so mine posed no danger, curled up cosily in blissful oblivion to the feeding frenzy right outside.
We’re all aware of the natural pecking order that prevails and it was intensely interesting to examine it close up. The birds actually formed an orderly queue for the trays of mixed nuts, cereal, breadcrumbs and – believe it or not – dried pasta. I heard that suggestion on the radio and was amazed to see spaghetti disappearing into beaks and carried aloft to wherever the birds settle these nights. Well, “orderly queue” is perhaps a slight exaggeration but beyond a shadow of a doubt, certain protocols were observed. Any bird found hopping outside the accepted and expected parameters was seen off quickly, feathers ruffled.
Watching the dramatic interaction with great curiosity reminded me of a memorable story I heard some years ago about an experiment conducted with fish. A barrier was placed directly across the middle of the fish tank so the fish only ever swam in half the tank. When the barrier was eventually removed, the fish never once ventured across the halfway point. Although perfectly free to swim in the whole tank, they stuck to their comfort zone, not daring to risk the world beyond. The story was used to illustrate the paralysis most people suffer from – the inability/refusal to venture outside what they, or others, have decided is the norm for them.
Each day, I enjoyed the spectacle of the pecking order outside the kitchen window, which is why the fish story sprang to mind. A solitary robin – they are always alone – was, as usual, cock of the walk. Territorial and fearless, he brooked no nonsense from anyone and most of the other birds knew better than to attempt any high jinks as he hopped hither and thither. The blackbirds, of course, whilst not exactly challenging him, nevertheless kept their distance, whilst simultaneously eating away and refusing to kow-tow. The greenfinches, blue tits, wagtails and thrushes wisely waited until the coast was clear before feasting their fill. This system of the pecking order appeared to work and peace reigned.
Occasionally, though, various birds broke the rules. I almost heard them say, “to heck with this bullying” and in they plunged to the centre of activity, prepared to accept whatever consequences in the pursuit of their natural, equal rights. Feathers flew and swear words were squawked.
So began a mental debate in my own head. Should I side with the birds who dared not upset the status quo for peace sake or those who defied the restrictions that were bred into them, either instinctively or by the other birds?
This mental debate has raged in my head for a long time and not just about birds. So, there was no contest. I identified with the birds who ventured forth bravely and I thought of Maya Angelou’s challenging poem, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings:
“The free bird leaps on the back of the win
And floats downstream till the current ends,
And dips his wings in the orange sun rays
And dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage,
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing…”