Curiosity

 

Red-tail vs. Raven Above Blue Heron Lake

I think of curiosity in one of two ways, either as a feeling that drives me to explore, or as a kind of conundrum that I might enjoy but have little interest in exploring. Usually, though, a curiosity will drive my curiosity.

According to a Google AI overview, "Curiosity is a strong desire to learn, explore, or understand something. It drives inquisitiveness, investigation, and learning. As a fundamental human trait, it fuels discovery and personal growth."

Of course, the AI is being anthropomorphic. Animals can be curious too. And even if we've never seen a cat that was killed by curiosity, we understand the meaning of the proverb. Explore sagaciously. 

A play on the saying goes, "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back." Which either means zombie cats are running around, or it can be satisfying to follow our curiosity. Me, I've always been one to wonder what's around the next bend, and I love that every day presents a new one.

Curiosity can lead us into rabbit holes of perhaps unknowable depth as answers beget more questions, or answers arrive that are heavier than we could have imagined. How deep we go depends on when the fuel of our curiosity runs out. Sometimes we need to inquire all the way to satisfaction, but we can also give up on a line of inquiry with little loss. Out in nature I'm often satisfied to let a mystery be.

Pair of Red-tails Above Bison Paddock

This morning's curiosity involved a trio of squirrels on a telephone pole. One sat at the very top. A second one seemed to be trying to reach the one at the top, while the thid one was preventing that from happening.

It was a squirrel stand-off, and I didn't stick around to see how it might end.

A curious scrub jay landed nearby, perhaps more interested in whether the human had peanuts than whatever the squirrels were up to.

The red-shouldered hawk was screeching as I passed beneath it on my bike, its calls seemingly setting off a cacophony of cawing by a group of crows. I stopped to investigate, but the crows went mute and merely hopped around among various tree branches while only the wind ruffled the hawk's feathers.

The fledglings are so well-camouflaged in their nest that I haven't seen them the last few days as I slowly rode around Blue Heron Lake. Wondering if they'd really flown away, I finally stopped today to take a closer look.

A red-tailed hawk soared into view above the nest island and was soon joined by a raucous raven. A second red-tail then swooped down from Strawberry Hill to come to the first hawk's aid. The raven broke off its harassment.

Meanwhile, one of the two fledgling herons had flown down from its nest to a conifer just south of the Chinese Pavilion. In the picture, its attention had been drawn to the screeching hawks and scolding raven. Eventually the heron settled down to rest on a thick branch. I supposed it would have to fly back to the nest when one of the parents returned with food, but I didn't stick around to find out.

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