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October 26th 2009

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    The Bluebird population here is attempting to flock.  An endeavor only sometimes successful.  There occasionally is wanton anti-social-ness.  One Bluebird is the cause.

    What turns a Bluebird toward territorial control is written probably in the genetic codes of flying things.  Smell and day length, hot and cold, but such motives have a dullness of imagination that can only be associated with test tubes and words that end in "-tomy". 

    Not my role to criticize the science of matter or subject it to a curled lip, as though I understood what those men in white coats think they are doing.  Certainly one could say that pursuit of experience is a playing field of the lazy mind.  And this, even if that mind shares an understanding of matter with physics.

    

    

   Nonetheless Bluebirds interpret as do violets and granite and people.  But what might it be that a Bluebird considers when suddenly he decides that flocking is not for him?   

    In the science of these things he may be slow or retarded.  Too old or too improperly wired to follow established patterns.  Which may be advantageous or maybe disadvantageous in pursuit of that host, a survival of the fittest.

    My own view claims that in our Bluebird population there is one who through the course of the year has become so fed up with his kind that the idea of spending the winter with them is more than he can manage.

    An impulse which may well have a chemical origin, and which one day will be netted by one or other of the "-ologies" if already it has not been.

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tim candler

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