Showing posts with label black bear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black bear. Show all posts

Saturday, November 2, 2013

THE WILDLIFE OF AIR BELLOWS

the bear

the bear and 2 coyotes--black coyote on right


bear and coyote
 
bear two nights before

These pictures were taken by a field camera triggered by motion, strapped to a tree. The place in the foreground  where the light is concentrated is the "bait pile," deer corn strewn over the ground and apples spread on the ground. The lore on coyotes says they don't eat apples. One of the pictures is a coyote with an apple in its mouth. It's the apples the coyotes are looking for here. The camera is about a tenth of a mile from my house on the other side of the road. I've been told bears were  in here, have seen traces, like at a rise in the road about half way between house and camera site a bear has been taking a dump on the road at the highest place that overlooks a great part of this valley between ridges. The camera recorded that the bear lay down comfortably in this place for two and a quarter hours. Coons, deer and coyotes passed through the pictures, the bear watching. I presume the bear knows the coyotes, the coons and the deer from nightly sightings. The bear is huge, estimated at 400+ pounds. From the standing picture, the bear looks pregnant to me, at least swollen up toward winter hibernation. I've become acquainted with this bear through the photographs. Since it appears comfortable here and has evidently been here several years, explaining the bear droppings on the place in the road that reappear from time to time, I feel like this is my bear sharing the mountain with me, my God-given neighbor.
 
coyote with apple in its mouth
 
ninja raccoon faces coyote intruder
 
coyote turns away
 
deer and raccoons
  
Most interesting to me, seeing this line of 500 images in the course of a couple of days and a nights, is seeing the critters living in the woods around here do not attack each other on sight. In a couple of the pictures, coons and coyotes face each other. In one of them the coon is standing on its back feet in a martial arts fighting stance (195). The coyote looks on with apprehension, body language saying, Looking for trouble I am not. Next frame (196) occurs in the same minute, the coyote showing its side, showing itself not a threat. Ninja Raccoon relaxes his stance. I believe, one-on-one, a coon could shred a coyote's face in a hurry. Two or more coyotes, I believe, could subdue a coon, but they'd have to be swift, which they are, and experienced, which they are, and work as a team, which they do. It appears the bait pile, like a watering hole, is a safe zone where it is collectively agreed, no killing at the communal kitchen. Until one of the deer feels for a split second the shaft of an arrow pierce the heart. My hunter friend, the only one with permission to hunt this part of the woods, is recording times the bucks pass through. The camera also gives him an idea of what is living in these woods. He had always been told coyotes don't eat apples. Turns out they do. It also turns out he is feeding the night critters of Air Bellows, day critters too. I'm feeding the birds here at the house and the donkeys with sunflower seeds and carrots. He's feeding everything else with corn and apples.
 
all four pictures the black coyote
 
 
 
 
 
I found several pictures of the black coyote, the one easily mistaken for wolf. I went looking at google images for wolves and coyotes. The long thin snout is coyote. A wolf's snout is more like a dog's. It looks like the black coyote travels on his own. Possibly he's the leader of the pack, top dog, scouting all the time, looking for something of interest. If it will take more than one, like maybe a lone calf in a meadow, he rounds up the pack and lays out his plan for attack. Don't get attached to any of the animals in these pictures. This plot of ground is no more than a slice of pepperoni on their whole pizza. They have an extensive range. Humans are looking to kill the deer and the coyotes as well as a bear. Humans don't kill the coons so much anymore, but going by the apparent understanding between the coon and the coyote, coons know that coyotes like raccoon meat. In the picture above, the back of the black coyote, notice his left front leg is missing, though its shadow is on the ground. His leg is raised carefully in slow motion, turning to the right to place his foot silently on dry leaves. Or maybe he's just trotting through, seeing what he can see, smelling the scent of every coyote, coon, squirrel, crow, turkey, deer, bear, human that had passed in and out of the communal kitchen, listening for any sound of footsteps on dry leaves. Whatever he is doing, he is doing it in full consciousness in the present moment. 
 
crow
 
turkey
 
squirrels
 
the reaper
 

While I was writing about the black coyote, three college-age girls came to the door and asked permission to park here and walk to the waterfalls. They'd been told the waterfalls are beautiful. Here I am, looking at these pictures for a few hours, writing about what I see, and three girls whose probable closest acquaintance with wildlife might be the cats they grew up with, I felt it important to advise them of what is in these woods. The bigger ones, the coyotes and the bears, are new to the area, the reason I don't go walking in the woods anymore. I advised them to step on twigs, talk a lot, make noise, let everything know a bunch of humans is passing through. I told them they won't see anything, because everything will see them first and go someplace else. I said none of these animals is looking to get you. They don't want to get you. They will leave you alone. If you see one, don't run. I said running means to them you want to play chase. You lose. Stand still like they do when they see one another. Show absence of aggression. My final advice, "Be wary. Don't worry." I came back to the house. I think they went back to the car and left. My hunter friends, who know what is going on in these woods, only go into the woods with a gun that has stopping power. Friend, who hunts here, walks into the woods in bow season, arrow in place. The only time he will require is the time it takes to pull back the string and let it go. I used to say nothing to city people visiting waterfalls about the possibility of running into a bear, coyote or wolf, but now that I know what is in these woods, I feel obliged to warn city people with no country experience about what they're getting into. Give them a chance to make a decision. It's no petting zoo.
 
 
 
 
 
the bear
 
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Thursday, May 3, 2012

CAN'T CONNECT WITH FRANK O'HARA

     larry rivers, I like olympia in black, 1970


Have been reading in Frank O'Hara's ART CHRONICLES 1954-1966. It is a collection of esssays from a magazine he was involved with as an associate editor, Art and Literature, where these essays originally appeared. He also worked at the Museum of Modern Art and wrote a good bit of poetry. The book was published in 1975 and I've had my copy since about that time. Seeing the spine on the bookshelf, I was thinking it would be a good time to look at it, as I hadn't paid much attention to it in awhile and he wrote about artists whose work I appreciate, the abstract expressionists. Reading in it, I realized I had read in it before. This time I was looking at an interview with Larry Rivers.


O'Hara's questions struck me as very poor interview questions, yet each one sent Rivers into a long paragraph of talking. What he drew out of Rivers I found did not satisfy my reasons for reading the article, to find some possible insight into Larry Rivers' painting. I came away disappointed, but didn't really know why. Started the essay on Robert Motherwell, recognizing I'd read it before, but that was so far away as not to matter. Read ten pages, wondered, what am I reading? He hadn't told me a thing about Motherwell's painting that opened to any insight for me. It was all information, nickel knowledge information. The information didn't even give an insight into the character of Motherwell or his painting. I quit reading it and realized this has happened before with this book over the last almost 40 years.


It takes me back to remembering why I've never been an enthusiast for Frank O'Hara's poetry. It never spoke to me. Like his prose writing, it seems like information for the sake of information. I feel like rejecting him like I have is not the way to handle O'Hara, because he is "cool" and "famous" and ran in the right circles to be totally cool. Cool people praise his writing and talk about what a great guy he was. Mighta been. I'm recalling past efforts of mine to give O'Hara a break, considering that I haven't yet given him his due, maybe if I read something now I'll get it. Maybe before, I didn't get it. Over and over I've found he leaves me uninterested in what he's writing about very quickly. I stopped reading about Motherwell when I realized after 10 pages I'd found nothing that reveals anything about what Motherwell was reaching toward. I found O'Hara has no depth in his writing. It's the same with his poetry. I used to wonder why cool people spoke and wrote so highly of him and I couldn't find any reason to read any of the poems I saw a second time.


O'Hara in these essays shows me the reason I've not been able to read him with any pleasure in the past is that he's a surface-skimmer. I've no problem with that as a legitimate style, but it's of no interest to me to read information for the sake of information. O'Hara wrote historical context very well, understood the evolution of art in the 20th Century. For me, his writing lacks life. When I finish one of his essays I feel like I haven't read anything, like I've been sitting here dozing off. His thinking, going by the questions in the Rivers interview, didn't appear to run very deep. I've never found an O'Hara poem I can say I like, and these essays, again, have only disappointed by giving no insight into a period of art I like a lot. Writing about art is not a bit easy. I'm not so wound up over Clement Greenberg's writing about abstraction, though Harold Rosenberg's writings on the abstract expressionists satisfies what I'm looking for when I want to read about art. I don't mean to make claims that one is the greatest and the other is not. Just noting my own subjective take on them.


A black bear ran by the window. It ran past the birdfeeder to the road, across the road and up the bank the other side. At first, I thought it was a black dog, but it was a little too much like loping for a dog. Running up the bank, it's fat rolling all over its body lumbering without hesitation up the steep embankment faster than a dog could, I saw clearly this was, indeed, a bear and not a dog. At the top of the bank it stopped and showed me its profile with its light brown snout. Beautiful bear. Caterpillar is looking out the screen door suspiciously. Could be she smelled it or heard the alarm in Martha's voice.. Martha barked at it briefly and made like she wanted to run after it. Satisfied to see it leave her territory of its own accord, she stopped this side of the road. She knew what it was, probably ten times her weight, big claws, big teeth, and absolutely wild.
    


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