Adam Blatner

A wonderful early evening walk in Springtime around the neighborhood, a nice opportunity to work out a bit with my hand-held dumbbells, chat with my dearest Allee,  and delight in the “Shiva” thin crescent moon she pointed out. Then there was the song of my totem animal, the mockingbird (mimus polyglottos) in a passing tree.  . (Hmm, ain’t Google grand—and Wikipedia—I didn’t know the Latin term was with an o near the end.). Anyway, glorious improvisation, and that’s what I like about it. It’s play! My mentor, the late Charles Hartshorne, was not just a philosopher, but also an amateur ornithologist who wrote a book titled Born to Sing, (which he considered his most important book!), and  in which he makes the point that many songbirds seem to have a clear aesthetic sensibility, considering the way they construct and vary their melodies. (The mockingbird, which we have here in Central Texas, is good but by far not the most beautiful of all the birds that sing.)
    I listened for a bit and marveled at the musical progression of the calls. This also fits other thoughts I’ve been having about a growing awareness of the sheer depth of creation.