i have just come in from a walk around creek’s 6 acres. no one is about. a gusting wind pushes from the south. mmm. south south west perhaps.
tonight the wind will turn to the north west and the hot summer weather will end. tomorrow I will wake to early fall. as it should be. it is the middle of september.
heavy metal cloud scuds across a light grey sky. in an hour it will be black. but for now. now I walk amongst the trees I have tended. the fields I have mown, planted, harvested. down the lane I have laid. scraped. blown. dragged. dug down and built up.
the farmer was by. we talked. he mowed my front field. and rolled the grass into round bales. bales the size of old volkswagons. he left me two. i hadn’t even noticed as I traced my way on my sunshine filled morning shop. i spot them as I come back again.
When I look at my animal and bird friends and neighbors I am often surprised by the complexity of their behaviours. Recently, for instance, I have come to be aware that I can tell which predator is in the area. A slow lazy alarm call, whether from the chipmunk, blue jay, chickadee, and usually all three or more, means skunks. A rapid alarm means the cat. A variety of birds calling out while congregated in one area means someone is being eaten there.
I bring this up because as humans we have an understanding of observed truths about our fellow beings and yet we are burdened with a host of what can only be called myths.
One of the more egregious myths, I would posit, is that humans are somehow uniquely conscious. I have considered this idea to be myth for some time. Here’s why.