Still Alive

How are you doing?

Things are hell in the U.S. Capital, thanks.

I could say so much about who needs to watch out for their rights being eroded. As in, married women who have taken their husband’s last name and don’t have a passport are the latest target, with the re-introduction of a Bill for the SAVE Act. Their birth certificates would no longer be a valid way of proving their eligibility to register to vote because it has their maiden, and not current, last name on it. If that’s you, either get a passport or change your name back to your maiden name legally. Same for if you’re divorced or widowed. You know, assuming we even have another election.

But there are so many people who are at risk that honestly? Going forward I think it’s up to each person individually to figure out their risks and how to protect themselves. It sounds cold, but freedom isn’t free. If ya want it, yer gonna have to work for it and be vigilant in protecting it. Get on your non-Facebook socials, preferably Threads, and start reading. I recommend Guy Fawkes News, who is also on BlueSky. Why? Because with the possible exception of the Associated Press, the mainstream media is not reporting everything, like, say, the protest in front of USAID where people were screaming “Shut down the Senate!” or the various activities of Anonymous, which as the kids say, has entered the chat. Anonymous has come out in opposition to the regime and have already doxxed the Phony Stark minions at DOGE who got into the government systems. As I understand it, Anonymous is having a hard time finding Phony Stark’s Social Security Number, which could very well mean that the SOB is not even an American citizen—which, by the way, would make the Fanta Führer guilty of treason by way of giving state secrets to foreign entities. See also, did you know USAID was instrumental in breaking Apartheid, and that the Inspector General for USAID was investigating Starlink’s business dealings with Ukraine right before Phony Stark shut the agency down? Make no mistake, the Fanta Führer isn’t running the country. Phony Stark is.

Anyway, the media is getting shut out and isn’t even going down swinging, so you’re going to have to rely on socials and that’s a you thing. Definitely get to BlueSky because if ZuckerBorg gets a wild hair up his arse, Meta products will become problematic, even Threads. If you don’t make the effort to inform yourself in nontraditional channels, you’re going to be an easy target and it’ll be your own fault so don’t come bitchin’ because you’ve been told—just like all the #leavingMAGA people were told all along that they wouldn’t be spared because of their whiteness.

And speaking of those people, yeah, no. No sympathy. Some on the left—usually men, because men have not been suffering since the Dobbs decision—have been talking about how we need to welcome the leavingMAGA people into the tent. Nah, this is the “find out” part of “fuck around and find out.” The leavingMAGA people are extra odious because they didn’t care about human rights and voting rights and deportation and government purges and cuts to social programs and so on until it affected them personally. Nah, it’s time for tough love, buppies, so…

Just remember, no matter how low you think the regime can go, it will go lower, because decent people just can’t imagine that kind of evil.

P.S. Dear Canada: We don’t want Wayne Gretzky, either. And it’s okay for you to turn off the lights. Don’t let Fanta Führer fool you. You’re going to have to treat him, and the USA, like a recalcitrant five-year-old who is waiting with boundless patience for half a chance to put his hand in the cookie jar when no one is looking. So keep watching, and boycott us. And that goes for the rest of the world, too. Boycott us until the Fourth Reich’s balls fall off.

Until next time, which is I don’t know when.

Subversively yours,

Zen

January Loss

This morning when I went out to the balcony I found this:

Bloodstains and feathers on concrete.

There were also piles of Mourning Dove feathers in the corners along the wall. There was no body, so at first I wasn’t sure what had happened and I made the emotionally scarring decision to find a video of a Hawk catching prey to see if that might have been the case. Oh, dear Fate and Universe, I am 99% sure that’s what happened. Barring outside interference, Hawks pluck the prey’s feathers where they catch the prey, usually while the prey is still breathing its last, and then once the prey dies, they carry it off to the nest or a tree to eat or feed to their babies.

If you know me or have even read more than a couple of my entries, you can imagine how all of this ripped my heart out. I spent the better part of the day fearing the Dove had been Stormy, the little one that appeared on the balcony railing during a sudden and violent summer storm a few months after Inigo died and is never far from me. That a Hawk caught and killed a Dove a few feet from me as I was sleeping, and that I slept through it was unimaginable, but perhaps that means it happened mercifully quickly.

That it’s my fault by drawing so many birds near to me, and thus attracting the attention of the Hawk, is unbearable. Yes, I know Hawks have to eat, too. In fact, around here it’s better for the Hawks to eat birds than rodents because so many people like those who make the decisions for groundskeeping here use those odious rat boxes. Most of the rodents who eat the bait don’t actually stay in the box. They go off thinking they had a meal, and then they die a gruesome, painful, days-long and lingering death by internal bleeding because the poison is an anticoagulant. Any predator who catches and eats a poisoned rodent also gets the anticoagulant effects of the poison and suffers the same fate. Someone in a neighborhood FB group found a dead Hawk down the block from me, perhaps this Hawk’s mate. It was by the side of the road so it may have been struck by a car, but she said there didn’t seem to be any broken bones, so it might also have been from eating a poisoned rodent. But just because Hawks have to eat, that doesn’t mean I want them killing birds on my balcony.

I already had a discussion with this one, actually, last week. I think it’s a Cooper’s. It landed on in the Crepe Myrtle right next to the Peregrine decoy (which really needs to be moved because it’s not doing anything), and I reminded it, loudly, that I’m the apex predator around here and it needed to hunt in the park or along the trail. People often confuse Cooper’s Hawks with Sharp-Shinned Hawks but Shinnies tend to live in forests and don’t eat larger birds like Mourning Doves, instead sticking to songbirds like Sparrows and Chickadees. Cooper’s would also make sense because not only do they tend to live in more urban areas and eat larger birds like Doves, they also eat rodents and small mammals and I have not seen a single squirrel since before Christmas, which is really unusual. Last winter there were four who always came by. Two, Sparky and Rascal, died last summer, one from that blasted rat poison and the other from a car. Two black ones, Midnight and Shadow, disappeared early last Fall. Sunny’s friend got hit by a car before I could name him, which left Sunny, who disappeared before Christmas, and I haven’t seen a squirrel on the property since.

It turned out that the Dove was not Stormy, as she and her mate appeared in their spot in the Maple tree out front this afternoon. But it was a member of the Mourning Dove flock whose members come to the balcony before first light and again at sunset, and sun themselves on the railing and my bedroom windowsill on and off throughout the day. My guess is that it might have been the Dove who flew into the window yesterday. It might have been slow to flee when the Hawk swooped in.

This morning as I cleaned the balcony, the Sparrows and Northern Mockingbirds all flew to the trees and watched me expectantly. I collected a few of the fallen Dove’s feathers, then swept the rest off the balcony to be carried away by the wind. The birds watched me, and watched the feathers drift through the air. They dispersed when I brought out the bucket of water, like they always do because they know there will be no vittles if the Bird Lady is cleaning. I thought they might not come back, nor the Doves, but this afternoon they all came around. When I went out there for some air, the Sparrows flew up from the holly hedges into the trees to watch me, and the Mockingbirds landed on the livingroom windowsill. When I went inside, the Mourning Doves came to the balcony and pecked at the bare concrete. The Sparrows came down, too, and began walking in circles, confused by the lack of food.

I felt terrible for them, so I did a supervised feeding. They all devoured the food in less than three minutes with me watching from the doorway, inside broom in hand, ready to run out and let any predators know I was there. At 5:30 I took a break from working and the Doves were again pecking at the ground and the Mockingbirds were on the railing. I did another supervised feeding, this time including a water tray, and the water tray was even more popular than the food. The Mockingbirds were super thirsty for some reason. I guess they don’t resort to snow when there’s no water around like the other birds.

All but the Doves took off after there was no more food to eat. It seemed the Doves didn’t want to leave, even when I went to the doorway, and a few of them looked like they were settling down to roost for the night on the windowsill. Two firetrucks were parked across the street, red lights flashing, and they seemed a bit nervous by all the commotion, but I couldn’t let them stay there. I opened the door and off they flew to the three broadleaf evergreen trees on the property where the Mockingbirds and Blue Jays also sleep.

I won’t be putting seeds out before I go to bed like I usually do. I’d rather not feed them at all for a week or so, and let the Hawk find somewhere else to hunt, like the park a block away. But these birds are going to be around no matter what. The Sparrows live in one giant holly bush at the entrance to the property, the Mockingbirds live in the broadleafs, and the Doves hang out in the bare Maple trees. They’re not going to disperse like they do in suburbia. There are too many people around who leave too much for them to scavenge. And Mourning Doves, much as I love them, are a bit obstinate. They’ll be the last to leave unless there’s a deterrent.

So instead I’m going to put out my big broom, the one with orange bristles and orange grips on the handle that I use to clean the balcony concrete. The birds don’t like that broom at all, so hopefully no one will get the idea to come around before I get up. For added measure, I’m going to tape up a few pictures of Owl decoys. That should at least keep the Doves and songbirds away until I get up. If they want breakfast, they’re going to have to wait for me to supervise them.

Tonight I will think of the Mourning Dove who died this morning as I add his or her feathers to those that came to me through more gentle means. Rest in peace, little one. Your hardship this winter is over.

Feathers from a Mourning Dove.

Abundantly Yours

I love tarot cards. This raises a lot of eyebrows. The religious go on about the alleged evils of the occult, without really knowing what the word “occult” means, which according to Merriam-Webster is “matters regarded as involving the action or influence of supernatural or supernormal powers or some secret knowledge of them.” (In other words, pretty much every rite and ritual in every religion.) My fellow atheists go on about “superstition.” Everyone else except fellow tarot-lovers goes on about “new agey b.s.”

Well, I don’t care. I’ve said here before that tarot cards help me sort through things and bring up ideas that were bubbling in my subconscious. I also love the artwork in many decks. I don’t use them for “fortune-telling” or divination, as I don’t believe the future is either knowable or predetermined.

Point is, I find tarot cards useful and generally nice to look at barring pretty much every depiction I’ve seen of the Ten of Swords. The Three of Swords and the Nine of Swords are never pleasant, either.

But some cards are just all-around amazing because of their meanings, so I was delighted to find duplicates of some of my favorite cards in a deck that arrived yesterday, The Guardian of the Night Tarot by MJ Cullinane. All of the other cards are there, so these are extras.

Tarot cards from the Guardians of the Night Tarot deck.

When you buy anything through Amazon (yes, I know, bad billionaire supporter, BAD), there is an increased chance that whatever you’re buying is counterfeit, so I checked the author’s website. I love Cullinane’s work and already have two of her decks, the Crow Tarot and the Urban Crow Oracle, and I’d be upset if the cards were counterfeit and someone else was profiting from her hard work. However, the publisher is correct and the deck came with a guidebook in a two-piece box like her website says it should, so I think the extra cards are just a manufacturer’s mistake.

But oh, what cards they are!

Nine of Pentacles: Financial independence, self-sufficiency, a little luxury, enjoying abundance, treating yourself to a little something nice (without going overboard), enjoying the fruits of your labor.

Ten of Pentacles: Financial security, wealth that is passed through generations, permanence, accomplishment in your career that allows you to have all you need, abundance.

Page of Pentacles: Good news regarding money, business, education, career, property, or health; manifesting your goals; opportunities to create your own security and prosperity.

Knight of Pentacles: Hard work, productivity, determination, diligence, ambition, tenacity, finishing what you start, striving toward your goals.

Queen of Pentacles: Prosperity, financial security, nurturing the practical, balance between home and work, being resourceful to create peace and stability in your life.

King of Pentacles: Worldly success that is shared with others, generosity, fulfilment in creative tasks, creating a rich life emotionally as well as materially, knowing what you’re doing and having success with it.

I’LL TAKE IT. I’m in my late 50s. I’m in journalism, which is not exactly the most lucrative of fields. I’ve survived several recessions by the skin of my teeth, and fought off homelessness twice. I have a day job and freelance on the side. I’m pretty good at what I do, but grew up with a lot of financial instability and insecurity and never really feel financially secure. Plus, like many people in the middle class, I’ve had to start over a few times and am vulnerable to the effects of recession. So if the Universe wants to encourage me with a message of abundance, I’m happy to embrace it.

The timing is great, too: In a personal journal I recently whined about wondering what the purpose of my work is if I’m not even sure it’s making a difference in the world, especially with the strange and dark times that are coming to the U.S. (I cover mental health and substance use. The U.S. is not okay and I sense it will be even less okay when the new administration gets in there and starts cutting funding for mental health and substance use treatment services. Those two things have been bipartisan causes for a while—suddenly they became important when White kids started dying by suicide and overdose—but still. Something heartless and ignorant this way comes.) So I’ll take this as a nudge to persevere.

At any rate, I think this deck will be fun to work with. I’ve set the duplicate cards aside, but it’s nice to know that the extra tarot goodness of those particular cards is there. Now I’m off to manifest.