A bluebird as seen during sunset in western New Mexico or north-eastern Texas. Which means it could be an eastern, a western or a mountain bluebird. Their territories overlap there. Hmm. That light colored area on its breast — that should be a clue. But I’m clueless.
During a drive last weekend, my wife exclaimed, “oh, a blue bird!” Because I had to keep my eyes on the country road that was rolling beneath us at nearly 60 mph, I took her at her word. Sure, blue birds can be seen here in Florida. But generally not near the coast nor in developed areas.
I love the bluebird varieties of the thrush family of birds. Beautiful. I’d love to have some nest in one of the many bird houses on our small piece of property. But it is very, very unlikely. My guess is even were I to provide shelter and abundant food, bluebirds would find the area unsuitable. Perhaps it just wouldn’t “feel right.” Sure, there is food, there is a nesting box . . . but the land, it just doesn’t feel right. Where are the wide-open fields?
Which leads me to this thought: Just as bluebirds likely have inborn preferences about what “feels right” (stimuli-clusters that trip neuronal firings resulting in other psychological events?), isn’t it possible that our kind likely has inborn preferences that extensively influence what “feels right,” whether the feeling be about mate, food, housing, or even truth?
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Tags: birds, knowledge, nature, the human animal
May 28th, 2010 at 1:55 pm
I find the study of mate selection fascinating. Our inborn preferences are so pronounced, they refuse to be overridden by rational argument or cultural mandate. Some of the best literature of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries described the futile attempt of culture and rationality to override those preferences. The very most romantic stories are those in which the hero or heroine lives a solitary life when denied the proper, heart-known mate.
Yes, to housing. Yes, to food. And yes, to truth. In fact, it is the truth, the subjective rightness, of a space, a mate, or a meal that my heart rises to. Call it right brain function, call it the short form of knowing, call it intuition. Isn’t it incredible that the brain sorts through so many variables, some we can’t even conceive of, to produce that sense of right? Even the ineffable variable of timing (kairos, not chronos) is processed. Ask me to define “miracle” and I would point to this.
May 28th, 2010 at 2:05 pm
Like the comment.
Near the top of my list of great wonders: bird migrations. Something pulls at them, they take flight, and head THERE. Hundreds, even thousands of miles away. And make it.
For a mind that strives to put words to everything . . . trying to conceive of that leaves me speechless.