Saturday, April 19, 2008

Fishy bird synchronicities

I’ve tried to pay more attention to the signals birds may be sending, ever since reading an animal totems book by Trish MacGregor and Millie Gemondo (Millie shares my birthday, although different year)


Soonafter the turn of the winter solstice, I was pulling my rig out from the busy

Power Engineers intersection, where I saw a distressed young woman, who had slid her small sedan off the road. This is one of the most dangerous highway stretches in our neighborhood and had I been quicker to act, I could have made myself more useful with the emergency equipment I usually carry. However, since I already committed to turning out, it was too late to find a safe place to pull over, with the massive snow banks crusting over into the roadside. As I rolled up the highway, I saw a couple of Hispanic men, manage to stop on the other side to help assist.

The next week, one of the local newspapers ran a thank you letter from the mother of the young driver. The daughter was sixteen and new to driving. One of the Hispanic men flagged down the traffic to slow, as the other helped tow out the car from the icy barrow pit. Meanwhile they assured the mother over the cell phone that her daughter was okay and the story seemed to help patch a small bridge in our community’s racial divide.

For the remainder of the winter, I usually remembered that incident whenever I passed that power spot.

Then one high noon, right after the Spring Equinox, Two Skies and I were pulling out from the same intersection, where we saw an ambulance speeding toward us south. Now enough snow had melted, to give us room to pull over. As the siren approached, it chased off a large flock of crows, which cast a remarkable dark shadow to float in sharp contrast over the snowy celestial noon fields. Two Skies later commented that seeing the storytelling of crows flowing from the emergency vehicle was a transcendental moment for him

When I flipped the scanner on, an officer’s voice announced, “Probable code black.” Two Skies called his editor, who granted him permission to check out this news story. I dropped him off at his car with the scanner. When he arrived, it was clearly bad news in the form of a head-on crash, on that icy highway stretch. A further synchronicity was that the truck resembled mine. When the photo went online that evening, two friends called to make sure I was still alive. The truck also had a matching cap, which the photo does not show, since the milk-truck thrust it away about forty feet.

When Two Skies arrived at the accident scene and met his work colleague, the other man remarked he was glad to have company, because as a teenager he had lost a close family member in a similarly horrific crash.

A week after the crash, I received an interesting message from Brad, who now lives in Florida. Brad said that he had been talking with a friend of his who was involved in another crash in the minutes preceding this crash. He said that his friend, G.I. called to say that after turning his truck into a fence, the gold Toyota narrowly missed him, moments before going on to become crushed by the milk truck. After giving some of the traumatic details, he went on to say that, G.I. had recently interviewed for moving furniture job across the street from where I work and it was the same job, which I had been offered one week before.

The unfortunate death of two people along with the many closely connected circumstances reminded me of some recent powerful doppelganger reflections.


A few weeks later, Wile E. and I were traveling southbound and crossed the Greenhorn Bridge on our way to give Lady Di a ride. Suddenly we saw a strange looking bird, emerge from the river area, proudly gripping a large trout in its wet talons. The unusual bird quickly swooped in front of us three times, as if it was showing off the valuable prize for our benefit. This was near the area where pigeons often gather in the afternoon sun, giving commuters a healthy taste of nature. It was also an aerobie toss away from the Peaceful Freemason's humble shanty.

After I dropped Lady Di off to retrieve her car, I crossed back over the Power Engineer power spot. This time a small red-tail hawk swooped up from what remained of the snowbank and fluttered in the air beside me. It didn’t have to, but suddenly it flew over and slightly tagged the top of my gold Toyota with its red tail.

That evening Twilight I determined that one of these bird synchronicities occurred five minutes before I picked up Di and the other five minutes after I dropped her off. This was enough to compel me to mention it to her the next day. When I did, it turned out that she had a full flock of interesting bird and nature synchronicities.

On the way home that evening after spilling out my bird-by-bird words, I experienced yet another bird synchronicity. At an area south of where the pigeons roost, but equidistant to the spot where the strange bird showed off his bull trout, a flicker came flashing at me, and also tailfeather-tagged my gold Toyota in an angelic manner.

Lady Di had mentioned in her oracle way that birds that perform in these situations are often signs of impending change. That evening when I got home, there were three things to confirm this prediction. The first one involved a bewildered dog, who we put up for the night and who has now found home again. The second a close friend from my early Idaho days perhaps again back into my life .

The third was a sentimentally sad moment when my duplex neighbor and friend, the lemonade man, took off in a U-Haul with all his worldy possesstions on a mission to run the Reno QX station, leaving me a freezer full of his frozen fish.

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