The Tree Swallows have returned. One of the aspects that I love about walking so often is that when the seasons change, change often comes about suddenly. One day the swallows weren't there and then they were. Simple and beautiful. They're common. I remember them being there in flocks at my grandmother's house. Her neighbors owned a large barn, so maybe they were barn swallows, with their forked tales. Still I know these birds, and they are beautiful. They're among the most graceful fliers in the skies of New England. I have thought of them as little blue, streamlined dolphins for years. They are fly catchers after all.
They are also loud, chittering and completely gabby. They live in huge flocks... or what I imagine are families. The fields of Rutland State Park are filled with them now...overnight. They were so loud this morning as I walked under one of their roosting trees... where they sit and drink their coffees and chat before the air warms sufficiently to allow the midges to take to the air. I do love them. They clean the air so efficiently of mosquitoes that on walks in May and June, I practically run down the forested roads to get to their fields where the clouds of mosquitoes are lessened to the point of decency.
They talk to each other, constantly. I think that maybe all birds talk to each other, even between species. Maybe they even speak in ways that things other than birds can understand (Am I sounding particularly SnowWhiteish here?) I know that I certainly know when there is a hawk bothering a group of crows. And I also know when a Blue Jay announces my intrusion to anything willing to listen. It is common sense then that maybe other animals listen for cues and what amounts to at least rudimentary conversation as well.
I don't do well with conversation, especially of the small sort. This, is what I imagine that chittering of tree swallows amounts to. I have Aspergers. A strange form of autism. It isn't pronounced... I think at least, but it does show itself in areas of my life. I am very uncomfortable with groups. I am almost completly baffled with small talk. I am given to a drifting (or what I would call "thoughtful") mind. It has made me feel like an outsider for most of my life. I some ways, I don't mind feeling that way though.
I went to a birthday party today... the dreaded birthday party. It is a pretty difficult thing for me. I brought "Walden" to read, and sat on the carpet at "Pump it up" and read for about half the time. The mystery of small talk for me, is it's purpose. I sat and watched it all transpiring, rising above the blasting white noise of constant air pumping into inflatable slides and bouncy castles. I always feel bad for those trying to hold one of these conversations with me. I know that it is awkward... the gaps in conversation as I try to tread water and end up drowning in the confusion of what sentence comes next. Information-wise, these conversations amount to nearly nothing in my opinion... So why talk? Why chitter away like the tree swallows?
I think it amounts to some more subtle form of conversation... a series of gateways of acceptability. Sure, they may be talking about what's for dinner tonight, but really one party is checking to see how far the other will take them into their fold... confidence...friendship. Do they invite them over for dinner? Do they only allow surface topics to block the other from more intimate conversation. It is all jockeying for acceptance and place. It is completely foreign to me. Again, I think it maybe exactly what the Tree Swallows are doing. Finding whose territory is whose and who is the leader of the pack.
I would be the tree swallow on his own tree, happily reading "Walden."
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