No rain and a warm, moist morning. Ideal for my three mile round trip to the coffee pot.
Geek info: my pedometer claims 5250 steps and as I am, unquestionably, a bog-standard, upright, ordinary person who puts his trousers on one leg at a time and walks round tall buildings rather than leaping them in a single bound, my step will be thirty six inches, neither more nor less. This means that I am twenty-one yards short of three miles unless I take in the mailbox, which will result in a three-yard bonus.
Back to the expedition: The sidewalks are wet and the mild morning has triggered a mass Westward migration of slugs. They head out to the Slug-Las Vegas of the asphalt highway. There they can revel in immersing their bodies in the sensuous warmth of the wet blacktop whilst indulging in the visceral excitement of gambling with the screaming car tires. I am now searching the Wiki-sphere to see if there is a recent branch in the evolutionary tree shared by slugs and lemmings being the origin of their common death wish – or are they all teenagers at heart?
I notice that the three-bird log has been taken over by a pair of Canada geese, showing their arrogance by standing on one leg while a brave cormorant clings to the far end. The other original settlers have been exiled to the far East of the pond to a previously unoccupied log.
Whilst watching the heron watching the fish, a quotation from Rumi, the 13th century Persian philosopher, came to mind concerning the fish contemplating the ocean. I then began to think about eels and salmon who rush from their home rivers to the big sea-world to grow up and make their way before returning to their roots and how this seemed a good analogy for so many people. But then what of the fish left at home, would they yearn for the excitement of the vast possibilities of the ocean? Another quote from Rumi moved me forward down the road to the store:
“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition.”
Epilog: The log occupancy battle has developed. Now the single brave cormorant stands four-square in the center of the log. His head held high, he stands his ground, fearless and steadfast as the geese swim in slow formation around the log looking for any sign of weakness. Can his brother cormorants return in time to support this brave holdout or is his mission a forlorn hope?
Interesting. I hope the cormorant wins
Slugs are hermaphrodites, so they are well on the edge already!