|
These are actual observations of any Corvids I
come across, or deliberately find (umhh, seek to annoy?) Leastaways,
the events are factual, though my treatment, language, and
interpretation are of poetic inclination. For I am a naturalist
without any real biological training. Though I do have a general
background in science and engineering: I am well aware of scientific
method, and value that greatly where it is appropriate. But I am
also aware of my potential lack of objectivity, so will not pretend
otherwise. This is a subjective account. There is unlikely to be
much written in past-tense passive-voice. Unless there is good
poetic reason of course. (:>) So I describe as I see, and assume
sufficient perspicacity on the part of the reader to differentiate
between fact and fancy. Perhaps you will see that difference better
than I could. (April 98)
In review, I can see several assumptions and
conclusions that I now believe to be erroneous. I expect there are more
I haven't spotted yet. I've left them in anyway. [wingshrug] Hindsight
is always so exasperating. (:>) (January 99)
These are the raw Observation Notes. Plain ASCII with linebreaks, as
I haven't time to keep up with it all in the wretched html-squeak. (:>~
Smaller files like this too. Good browsers read .txt anyway: else save
and open in your favourite word processor.
Updated every few days, so if you want the latest, don't forget to hit the
*refresh* button on your webbery-seeing thing. (:>)
The current file:
ROOKS.TXT
Older files:
99 Q2
99 Q1
98 Q4
98 Q3
98 Q2
My thoughts when starting these observations:
It is so difficult trying to outwit Wild Corvids by stealth! They
seem almost supernaturally aware of any interest in them. They see
my form, and perceive that this creature is looking _at_ them: not
merely through or past, ignoring them as most of the relatively
harmless bipeds do. I cannot blame them for coming to the most
obvious conclusions. I feel uncomfortable, guilty even. Too much of
my humanity remains then.
|
