There is a new family moving into the Valley. I spotted them out the window – while I rushed onward, in a 38 miles per gallon Chevy, to pick out some broccoli and sunflower seeds a week ago.
Two regal parents are watching over a stick-licked nest and camera-in-hand gawkers by the side of the asphalt on the edge of the fence.
The mother and father are dressed in their aged suits: white heads and feathered limbs that stretch and lift even while their claws cling to structures. They look like the American bird on a piece of green found in denim pockets throughout the continent.
One black and white parent swoops down then away from the long barren trunk and branches that house their nest fattened with early brood. The other parent dips her beak about her home, straightening the twigs, placing her feathers over the shells; her instinct commands her to incubate and she knows that mothering is key.
Somewhere across the blown down farmer’s land, where once two quarter horses nudged the sandy ground for forage against the heat and ice air, the parent who set himself up as a decoy and a saboteur’s meal slowly treks back to the thorn-like tree where his family grows and warms in the chilly fogs that embrace every lung swell.
Indeed a new family beckons us to appreciate our world like the edicts in Genesis and words written on tablets, digital and stone bound. We are bound over as if our world is given over for hydraulic “fracking” of fossil fuels instead of harnessing wind and saturated solar cells.
A new family is lifting its wings over the San Luis Valley like creatures on the precipice or gods watching from clouds. Their feathered presence speaks volumes about our stewardships and land rights in question for all eternity. Even an Alaskan Trooper in rounding up villains on the tundra finds a glacier’s spit as a sword, evidence in the unruly extinguishing of earth’s very lifeblood and beasts of the wildwood. In the presence of our heritage, God and no-god alike, we are witnesses of global changes; changes that bring out gawkers and status-quo fans; changes that move flocks and natural habitats and raise coastal waters with the disappearing polar ice caps and bears.
A new family is moving into the Valley and with their presence comes the memory of the lives that were once in an oxygen rich atmosphere are now timid lives in the crux of carbon dioxide poisons battered by ions of sands. For our families’ sakes, we lay ourselves down to sleep, pray for our souls to keep, and speak little about the changing temperatures that bring out early nesting before the subzero weather transforms to heavy heat and windy sounds. We ourselves rake holes on the precipice with out a conscience around what still harms our world, mother earth, the third planet from the sun; even Modest Mouse sings that 3rd Planet cautionary song.