The “seeing” perspective...

“There is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective “knowing”; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our “concept” of this thing, our “objectivity”, be.”—Friedrich Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, third essay.

We live on a beautiful historic park in North Carolina. The bird house on our porch is quite popular and hosts a full roster of small birds throughout the warmer months.

Lately, I noticed quite a few birds on the wire and sitting in the surrounding branches. Enjoying the bird song, every day I would venture out to enjoy my lunch or to take a break from the tedium of the day.

Yesterday the song seemed a little frenetic but still a pleasant way to enjoy a few bites of a homemade peach tart.

Suddenly, a small wren perched on a nearby chair and began singing quite loudly. She was facing me and seemed to be trying to “tell” me something. The cacophony of the other birds led me to the little birdhouse. Removing it from the hook I noticed it was solidly packed with twigs. I guessed they were frustrated that the last batch of residents appeared to have been hoarders.

One of the slats slides open and I pulled chunks of twigs out through the narrow opening. Wow they were tightly packed. I felt immediately guilty that we hadn’t thought to clean out the house in a few summers but the birds, in the past, dumped out remnants onto our table so I assumed this was an ongoing ritual.

I jumped a little as a tiny bird flew out now that the first layer of detritus was removed. Realizing the source of the agitation of the little song birds was due to the pending live burial of the last of the hatchlings I removed the last of the nests discovering one more enthusiastic inhabitant.

This was all quite emotional. We have all seen creatures resort to humans for assistance when they are threatened or in harms way. It is quite another to be simultaneously the cause and the solution. Quite clearly the little wren flew to my chair for assistance.

I perceived birds gathering to do what birds do. I totally missed their distress and was horrified to think about the different outcome if I hadn’t absent-mindedly wandered out onto. to our porch.

That’s the thing with perception. Without the friction we often miss the actual story.