AN UNLIKELY SCENARIO

This afternoon, as I was riding my bike north up The Silverado Trail in Napa Valley, I went flying by what at first glance appeared to be a dead humming bird sitting stone still in the glaring sun. Upon closer inspection, I found that it wasn't dead, but rather in a serious state of debilitation.

It sat there, eyes closed and teetering with every gust of wind that trailed off of each passing car. My conscience made it quite clear that something had to be done and fearing that it'd end up being run down by another cyclist, or worse yet a car, I concluded I'd best pick it up and go about figuring out just what to do with it.

The poor fellow was weak as can be and made but only a few feeble flaps of it's wings as I picked it up off of the pavement and placed it in the palm of my hand. I rode along for some time, trying to figure out just what in the world to do with it.

At first I thought I might call around and see if there was some sort of bird rescue center in Napa Valley that might be able to come pick it up, but if there was one, I'd have a hard time seeing them drive out to save a hummingbird. A red-tailed hawk perhaps, but a hummingbird? It seemed an unlikely scenario indeed.

The only other alternative would have been to wrap it in one of my arm warmers and take it back home with me, but with 70 miles remaining in my ride, that seemed no more realistic an option than the former.

Musing on what other prospects might pose as probable I rode on for a mile or so with it in the palm of my hand. Aside from the aforementioned considerations, the only other option that ocurred to me was to find a large stone and put it out of it's misery.

As I remained uncertain of it's true status however, I couldn't possibly have done so with the complete assurance that I was doing the right thing, so this option was swiftly dismissed. Perhaps it simply had a hangover from too much humming bird feed the night before and would soon make a full recovery. With no further options in sight, I rode on.

Eventually I came upon a stone bridge alongside the road with plenty of shade and a small creek running beneath it. I decided I'd simply leave it in the shade and hope for the best. Oddly enough I had a bit of a difficult time getting the sucker out of the palm of my hand as it's tiny nails had gotten caught in the mesh of my riding gloves. With considerable effort I eventually managed to unhook it's nails one by one. I didn't want to break one of its tiny toes and further incapacitate the poor thing.

I placed it a cornerstone, grabbed one of my water bottles, turned it upside down and dribbled a couple drops of my energy drink on it's beak, thinking it could use a shot or two of glucose to lift it's spirits. Lo and behold it's beak sprang wide open and it took in a good couple dozen gulps in rapid succession. I then poured some into a small indentation in the rock hoping perhaps it might be able to drink more as needed.

With that I bid my hummingbird friend adieu, praying that in some slight way I'd made it's life a little easier. I hopped on my bike and resumed my ride down the road ahead. I briefly wondered whether or not I'd done the right thing. Perhaps there was more that could have been done and my failure to have investigated any further meant the difference between the life and the death of a seemingly insignificant hummingbird.

Thankfully, I didn't puzzle over this for too long. The realization came that I could have done everything and then some to save it and it may well have died nonetheless. No doubt I'll never know what ever happened to it. Given it's condition I'd be surprised if it made it through to the end of the day. Perhaps having moved it from the hot tarmac at the shoulder of the road to the relative protection of the shade made all the difference. Perhaps it didn't.

Sometimes we just don't know what the results of our actions will be. Nonetheless when presented with a situation, however perplexing it may be, we have to do something. We can hesitate indefinitely, but that in and of itself is an action of sorts. Assuming we've done what we deem to be "the right thing", acting in the best interest of all concerned, all we can do from there is rest in the faith that Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom will act accordingly.

A DAY FOR THE REPTILES

Yesterday was among the more brutal rides I've done in some time. Did a hundred miler heading south toward Glen Ellen, up over Trinity Grade, down into Napa Valley, up Silverado Trail into Alexander Valley, east into Healdsburg and south back into Santa Rosa. with the temperature approaching triple digits it was a scorcher and I was loving every minute of it. So too were the reptiles. With the heat cranked up full blast and miles of hot asphalt to warm themselves upon they were out in force. They're my kind of people, them reptiles.

Lizards and snakes were on display all over the place and I spent a fair portion of my ride trying to avoid them. Blue Bellies, all too literally known as The Western Fence Lizard, are tough to avoid at 20mph as they blend right in with the asphalt and they typically can't be seen until they've begun hauling ass out of the way in the attempt to avoid being crushed. At one point I thought I might have run one down. Unable to carry on in good conscience I circled back and was relieved to find it was simply a twig.

Snakes are a different story though. I can usually see snakes well up ahead as they lay strewn about like discards of old rope. They're not so easy to spot, however, whilst flying downhill at 40mph and if I did run one over, chances are slim to none I'd circle back to put the poor bastard out of its misery. At any rate toward the end of my ride and just short of making a left on River Road, I caught sight of a baby Rattlesnake sunning itself out on the side of the road. I'd seen plenty of snakes out on the road, mostly King Snakes and Gophers, but the only Rattlesnakes I'd seen had been relegated to roadkill status.

As I had my phone with me I figured I'd snap a shot of it. Given the prospect of being bitten and dying on the side of the road from snake bite with complications of heat stroke, I proceeded with caution. First I rode by it a couple of times to test it's responsiveness. It made nary a move. Taking that as good sign I made a couple more passes, snapping shots each time.

Unfortunately this didn't work too well as the lo-tech camera on my high-tech phone has the no-tech inability to maintain it's focus whilst in motion. I can't blame it entirely on the camera as it's damned difficult taking pictures with one hand while pedaling a bicycle, particularly when Rattlesnakes are involved. Thus I gave myself over to the prospect of getting close enough to get a good shot whilst remaining far enough away to hop on my bike and haul ass in the event it decided to make any less than amorous overtures. Here's the result:

Given the lack of anything in the background that might provide some perspective, it looks as though it might be an adult, but in reality it was much smaller and consequently less threatening. And as it seemed entirely absorbed in it's sunlit reverie, I thought perhaps I might get a bit closer, hoping to get a better shot. No sooner than that thought arose, however, did it suddenly begin to wiggle a bit at which point I wisely decided not to push my luck and settled for what you see above. Whatever the case, I'm always excited to chance upon the diversity of wildlife here. It's but one of the many things I love about being back in Northern California, the wildlife.

You just don't see this kind of thing back in New York City. You see other stuff, like rats the size of cats and cockroaches as big as birds, but not snakes and lizards. Oh, there've been a few Coyote sightings in Central Park, but they're rare indeed. No, I much prefer to witness wildlife in it's natural environment whilst pedaling my way through the lush Sonoma County countryside, than to encounter it's urban counterpart, gnawing on the baseboards. City critters do have their own unique appeal, mind you, particularly when the only other living creatures you have access to are of the human variety. But given the choice, I'll take a Rattlesnake on a dusty back road over a Renegade Rat any day, or a human for that matter. It was a day for the reptiles to be certain.

COYOTE IN THE CITY

I just realized that the ten years I've been in New York have desensitized me to the absurd. A couple of years ago a full grown tiger was found in a Harlem apartment. Apparently the owner had brought it into the apartment as a cub and was finally found out when a downstairs neighbor called the police and told them of a "large wild animal" lurking in the apartment upstairs whose urine had seeped into her apartment.

So when the news broke that a coyote was found in Central Park yesterday it didn't seem anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it kind of made sense. Of course a coyote was found in Central Park. If there was any place a coyote would be found in this nightmare of a city it would be there. Given the choice between Penn Station and Central Park that's where I'd go. A little time in the park can do a hell of a lot to soothe the nerves. Especially if you're a coyote. But upon further reports and deeper reflection, I had a bit of a realization. I'm not a coyote.

With the exception of a few bad acid trips I've spent most my life under the impression I'm human and as only an indignant few have gone out of their way to label me otherwise I've pretty much accepted it as a fact. Given the opportunity I suppose I wouldn't mind being a coyote for a day or two, just to get an idea what it's like, but certainly not in New York City. Hell being human here is hard enough. No, if I were a coyote I'd much prefer the wilds of the Catskills or the Adirondacks to this mess. Sadly, that won't be happening any time soon, at least not in this life. Perhaps it will in the next. One can only hope.

At any rate, I got around to actually thinking about it and the more I thought about it the more incredulous I became. The fact that the damned thing actually made it to Central Park without being run down by a delivery truck or held as ransom by a dope fiend is nothing short of miraculous. Considering he had tens of miles of urban sprawl to make his way through before he even reached Manhattan is amazing enough, but add to that the fact that he had either to cross one of a handful of bridges with limited access to pedestrians or swim to the other side of either the Hudson or East Rivers to get there and you've got yourself one hell of a courageous critter. Then there's the tens, perhaps even hundreds of congested city blocks he'd have had to navigate his way through, assuming he knew where he was going of course. I'm sure there's some high minded animal rights activist out there who'd assert he did, but I ain't one of them.

No, I'm more inclined to believe that like so many others of us who come here looking for who knows what, he had absolutely know idea where in the hell he was going, or why for that matter. Further to that he clearly had no idea where he was coming from, 'cause if he'd did, he'd likely have stayed there. But that's a debate better applied to we humans. We're just as bad, if not worse about having no idea where we've come from until we've already left. And on top of that we're actually held accountable when finally figure it out. The worst that can happen to a coyote is he can get shot in the ass with a tranquilizer and wake up in the woods wondering how the hell he got there. I've often wished I could suffer a similar fate, but if anybody's going to rescue me from the city it sure as hell ain't gonna' be somebody from the New York Department of Wildlife. If anything it'll be someone from the N.Y.P.D. Or the flight deck at Bellevue.

You know, amazing as it is that a coyote can make his way from the wilds of upstate New York to Central Park what's more amazing to me is how we humans did it. He was just doing what he had to do. He sure as hell didn't question himself about his motives. Misguided as he may have been he just followed his nose and left the rest to nature. What baffles me more is the question of how the rest of us got here and why we came. Though we could all cite a multitude of reasons why we chose New York as a place to live, I have a sneaking suspicion we did it the same way he did it. After years of trying to get things right in life it sure does feel like it. Perhaps we're not all that different from that coyote in the park after all, perhaps we just think we are. Hmn. I'll have to mull that over as I make my way home. That is if I don't get lost along the way.