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January 21, 2002

Mixed Flock

On this Martin Luther King Day we may see things in black and white, or we may not. The vector of the civil rights movement is now invested in the rubric of diversity. This represents a move from a Cultural premise to a Natural one; an exchange of legal language for that of the natural sciences.
Dr. King was an officer of religion, yet such are the tools of his movement: law and learning, that if they serve the spirit must do so at a distance.
And yet these things will all conflate.

Snow finally fell, leaving the woods black and white.
But it is not so, not entirely.
Among the dark trunks, flitting between the silhouettes, even in Winter, the birds persist. They are not limited in color. Black and white, yes; but also blue, and red, and green, and yellow. And as if to honor the idea of inclusion, they appear together, in mixed foraging flocks. Birds of a feather may flock together, but they are seldom exclusionary, except when breeding.

In the Winter, when there are fewer birds here, and fewer resources for them to exploit, you become more aware of these congregations. First you notice a Chickadee, up in a treetop; if you see a Chickadee, chances are you’ll see a Titmouse in short order. Then a Nuthatch swoops in and starts walking head first down a trunk. Then another. Probably you heard them yammering before you saw the Chickadee (make that Chickadees), but it’s hard to say, and you keep noticing other things... Take a minute to figure out how many different kinds of Woodpecker you’re seeing; three..four...five? Doubtless there are Cardinals in the brush, and Sparrows too, if you’re inclined to pursue them through roots and under litter, which is also a good way to meet up with the Wren, or the Towhee, while high above a Kinglet or a Goldfinch is busy...

Mixed-species flocking distributes risk while maximizing foraging efficiency, thereby conferring an evolutionary advantage on the whole population, as well as providing a nice metaphor for human diversity. Why can’t we be like the birds? Their conflicts seem few; even the White-breasted Nuthatch and the Brown Creeper can work a single tree trunk in harmony, using a similar probing technique, because the Creeper moves up the trunk, while the Nuthatch comes down, so together they see both sides, and one finds what the other misses.

It would be nice if our various peoples were so congruent. It’s risky to exchange our own laws for a Nature we do not really understand. But we reach beyond our niche, while the Creeper never does aspire to descend the trunk, remaining within the boundaries of habit.
We are not so content.
And our self-definitions do not restrain our desires.

Our desire is like a plummeting Hawk, scattering the flock, seizing one victim, as it were a sacrifice that spares the rest. And if the Hawk is drawn to the consolidated numbers of the flock, then who’s to say the predator is not a part of the flock? It’s all a matter of where you draw the line. We’ve drawn so many lines between us that our best hope is in the Mystery that makes every separation also a place of joining. Our dividing lines criss and cross us, and overrun our individuality. Soon we must all find ourselves marked with the same pattern of conflicting distinctions,
leaving us a pied people;
the mixed flock of the late Reverend Doctor.

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