of ostriches and boobies

I’ve  been away from The Crone’s Nest for several weeks now without a word of why or wherefore, and I feel I should apologize for so rudely disappearing. Truth is, I’ve been dealing with some medical issues that I don’t think are serious (fingers crossed), but which have left me with a reduced incentive to spend time at my computer.

Like an ostrich with its head stuck firmly in the sand, I’ve had my nose deep in one book or another.  It’s an effective means of preventing unnecessary brooding while waiting for the yea/nay to come eventually from the medical folk.

For some unknown reason, I can suck back hours and hours of reading during such waiting periods, but I have a very hard time getting my head around writing. Reading is my particular Susannah head-in-the-sand solution to waiting periods.

Some of us find it essential to keep busy during such waiting periods.  These are the people whose houses are so clean you could lick the floor and get nothing but the taste of Mr. Clean on your tongue, because when these folks have something on their mind, they work it out.  Window-cleaning and reaming out the fireplace flue come to mind as jobs such a person might feel a strong urge to tackle.

Not me.  I prefer to read out whatever’s on my mind. In fact, I feel completely entitled these days to retire to my couch with a book if I so much as get a splinter in my finger, or it happens to be a bad hair day.

Obsessive reading is definitely within my repertoire, and sometimes it’s hard to define precisely what might not prevent me from pursuing the dubious allure of a solid workday.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

However, the thought has occurred to me that if I’m going to think of myself in terms of the bird world these days, I’d much prefer to define myself as a blue-footed booby rather than an ostrich.  For one thing, they’re cuter.

In this world of endlessly versatile – and often downright weird – Creation, these delightful clown-like birds are in a category of their own.  I mean, really: blue feet?  Whoever would have thought?  It’s some kind of grand celestial joke, I’m sure.

No matter.  If these cuties aren’t just about the most smile-inducing birds you’ve ever laid eyes on, I’ll eat my plumage.

National Geographic tells us that the males rightly take great pride in those fabulous feet, and the gals use their own blue feet as chick-warmers, covering their babies to keep them warm.

But that’s not all they’ve got going for them:  in addition to possessing spectacular feet, these guys can also dance.  They strut their stuff in front of the lady boobies, and the ones with the brightest feet and the best moves get to set up housekeeping with one of the gals.

Check out the pair at left and tell me that the solemn, pompous dance these two are doing, with their heads in the air as though to make it clear that they’re a cut above all that foolishness going on in their nether regions, doesn’t make you smile just a little.

Furthermore, dancing definitely beats sticking your head in the sand with your tail waving in the breeze like a certain other bird we know.

And given that the dance seems to consist almost entirely of strutting from one foot to another to show off those bright blue boats, I suspect I might possibly be able to do the Blue-Foot Boogie too if I really put my mind to it. There’s a bit of wing-flapping in there as well, but that’s no problem for us two-armed peeps.  Just wave those arms!

All in all, the Blue-Foot Boogie seems to be an ideal kind of picker-upper for anyone who, like me, has been having some serious head-in-the-sand days lately.  Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?  It’s Blue-Foot Boogie time.  Are you a bit sad, or worried, or waiting for time to pass?  Check out the B-F Boogie again.

I tell you, it’ll grow on you.

Remember the old quote, “You’ve gotta dance like nobody’s watching”?  Truer words have rarely been written.  However, in this particular instance, I would seriously advise you not to take the advice literally.

Some decorum in public is usually advisable.

Try the B-F Boogie during an off-moment while you’re standing in the lineup at Wal-Mart and you might just find yourself being gently escorted to the hotel with the rubber rooms.

But in the privacy of your own home?  Hey, go for it.

Just boogie down, man!

Namaste,
Susannah

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From National Geographic:

Blue-footed boobies live off the western coasts of Central and South America. The Galápagos Islands population includes about half of all breeding pairs of blue-footed boobies.

Like other boobies, blue-foots nest on land at night. When day breaks, they take to the air in search of seafood, sometimes fishing in cooperative groups.

They may fly far out to sea while keeping a keen eye out for schools of small fish, such as anchovies. When their prey is in sight, these seabirds utilize the physical adaptations that make them exceptional divers. They fold their long wings back around their streamlined bodies and plunge into the water from as high as 80 feet (24 meters). Blue-footed boobies can also dive from a sitting position on the water’s surface.

Blue-footed boobies also use their webbed feet to cover their young and keep them warm. When a typical brood of one to three chicks hatches, both parents feed and care for them.

All half-dozen or so booby species are thought to take their name from the Spanish word bobo. The term means “stupid,” which is how early European colonists may have characterized these clumsy and unwary birds when they saw them on land—their least graceful environment.