May 17, 2007 at 12:16 pm (something else)
The ivory-billed woodpecker, also known as the Lord God bird, is a very large woodpecker native to the bogs of the southeastern United States. Already endangered in the 1930s, the birds’ habitat was extensively logged, and the ivory-bill was believed to be extinct for over 60 years. Then in 2005, it was announced that several sightings had occurred, all in the same area along the White River in Arkansas.
I heard about the sighting of the ivory-billed woodpecker on NPR in April of 2005. At the time, I had never heard of the bird, but the emotion with which the locals and professional and amateur ornithologists discussed the possibility that this strange and beautiful bird might not be dead was really moving to me. One man, after seeing the bird, just sat down and cried. It was as if these people had had a sign that the earth was more beautiful, and more merciful, than they had believed.
In addition to the very thorough wikipedia page linked above, the Cornell Department of Ornithology has a web site devoted to the search for ivory-billed woodpecker, including possible video footage of the bird. The most recent issue of Birding Archives is largely devoted to the ivory-bill as well.
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May 7, 2007 at 3:29 pm (robindronath tagore)
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When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their first
splendor, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang
`Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!’
But one cried of a sudden
—`It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light
and one of the stars has been lost.’
The golden string of their harp snapped,
their song stopped, and they cried in dismay
—`Yes, that lost star was the best,
she was the glory of all heavens!’
From that day the search is unceasing for her,
and the cry goes on from one to the other
that in her the world has lost its one joy!
Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile
and whisper among themselves
—`Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection is over all!’
Rabindranath Tagore |
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May 1, 2007 at 6:30 am (robindronath tagore)
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Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.
Rabindranath Tagore |
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May 1, 2007 at 5:25 am (john keats)
| Bright Star |
| by John Keats |
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Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
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