Catagraph.us

(According to the volunteer present, “Yoda” is named for the way he walks rather than his bright green plumage, small size, and cadence when speaking.)

A Great Horned Owl and a Screech Owl share a brief conversation at dusk.

(”Bubo” is the Great Horned Owl. He calls three times in this recording. Toward the end of the recording, “Yoda” — a rather diminutive Screech Owl — chimes in.)

…Other smoky voices call.

Sing night songs.

When one is larking around with ideas, the ideas sometimes take their own route to completion.

In my senior year of high school, I played badminton practically every morning before classes. My playing partner was one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever known. I couldn’t hope to equal him at math or science or language (though we were close at the latter). At badminton, however, we were perfectly matched.

Naturally, this meant we had to destroy each other.

We explored various methods — beginning with increasing the speed of return, the height of the net, the number of birdies in play — and escalating into a kind of Calvinball of baroque and convoluted rules which borrowed liberally from soccer and ping pong.

Such a development between skilled, competitive players is inevitable and, once experienced, ruinously addictive. To every pursuit which follows in life, one brings an insatiable desire for the worthy opponent — the singular being who will force you to get better.

Find that person and go start a happy feud.

Windmills make me happy.