A Different Rhythm

I like birds. Perhaps not in the way people expect. Of course they are colorful, easy to identify, and fascinating from an ecological, evolutionary, and biological perspective, but my interest in them goes into more sensual and conscious territory. I simply am drawn to them for how they make me feel. Nothing more, nothing less. I’d like to say I’m driven to complete a P.H. D dedicated to finding ideal mountain gradient habitat for the western Scrub Jay in my distant future, but that would be a fallacy. Any interest beyond aesthetics is secondary. If it doesn’t serve that curiosity, it’s beyond my calling. That’s not to say I’m unwilling to learn about the science of birds, only that it needs to help answer my ultimate question: why do certain birds feel different than other birds. I don’t mean feel as in touch with the feathers or skin, but an emotional feel. This applies to all other organisms, not just birds.

Birds have drawn my interest since an early age, lizards before that. Even in a picture book I can’t stop looking at them. Their hard beaks, their orderly feathers, their often beady eyes, all so much the same from species to species, but also so different. These variations in appearance and behavior cause people to associate each type of bird with a certain personality. This is nothing new for anyone familiar with folklore and attitudes towards birds (or any animal), but I’ve seen no one break it down in its small important parts. Every color, eye shape, flight pattern, perching posture, calls, beak size, and general mannerisms a bird possesses, dictates its aura. It’s no mystery that compositions from Swan lake capture the essence of Swans in our minds (peaceful ones at least). This does not differ from many other pieces of music or art expressing a bird. Sometimes I make sounds that remind me of a certain bird that the bird itself doesn’t even make. What conscious and unconscious factors are at play when people see certain birds? Does a fascination or connection with certain organisms tell us something about our inner being?

I’m indifferent with beliefs in having a spirit animal or being a reincarnation from an animal being. It’s all possible, but it doesn’t answer my question. The best way to investigate is by illustrating an example. That example is the study of a broad-tailed hummingbird. This species caught my eye from my recent stay in Colorado. The broad-tailed hummingbird is not much different in appearance from its smaller relative, the ruby-throated hummingbird. They both share tiny jet orbs for eyes, iridescent fairy backs, twitchy figures, needle beaks, and warbled squeaks when they zoom past. Despite these similarities, the broad tail has one big difference, its flight patterns. Besides its larger size, it has a slower rhythm of wing beats compared to the ruby throat I’m accustomed to seeing in my home state. While its hovering figure-eight pattern is still fast, there’s more definition to each move, not the vibrating fuzz I see undulating on the back of a smaller hummer. I’ve never seen such a small bird have so much weight to it. I didn’t even recognize it as a hummingbird when I first saw one fly past me. The only conclusion I could come up with at the time was a swallow with fast wings or a giant bug. The broad-tailed hummingbird is graceful, but heavy.

While birds in the same family have much in common, the slight differences between them defines their unique essence. For hummingbirds, their puny figure and tinkerbell flight makes it hard to believe that they actually exist. They’re hyperactive shining bullets, zipping through yards and flowerbeds, leaving as quickly as they came. Anything that adds to these unique traits only adds to their intriguing nature. Only a select few people remind me of hummingbirds. I have a friend who is just that, the pure essence of these creatures. She looks nothing like a hummingbird and has no specific interest in them, but possesses the same mannerisms as one. Her personality is lighthearted, and she laughs in the same cadence of a hummer warble. Even many of her movements have a sudden twitchiness to them. If I had enough time to do the math, I’d bet both her and the hummer match in their vocal patterns and physical rhythms.

There are a few people out there that embody another creature perfectly, but they are rare. Most people are hard to associate with anything else other than themselves. I believe I’m part of the majority, at least in appearance. Despite this, I think many people feel most aligned to certain animals even if they don’t show it outwardly. For myself, I’ve felt most connected to lizards in a spiritual sense. Even before birds, many aspects of them captivated me: their colors, slim build, alertness, scales, and overall confident demeanor that’s intimidating to others. Lizards simply have an essence in me, whether I understand it. They have bare bones personalities I relate to the most. For others it might be dogs, cats, or giraffes. I believe that the animals we relate to tell us a lot about ourselves, what we believe, aspire to be, and are already. It’s not uncommon to see an individual have similar emotional energy to their favorite animal. They may even match the creature in their mannerisms like my friend.

Another matter to consider is the inner world of the creature. Consciousness is a complicated subject that is still not understood. There are simply realms of consciousness that humans can’t reach. These realms are the conscious experience of other beings. While very few people would want to experience the sensory nature of a dog, it’s a fascinating concept. It is a state that’s impossible to reach, even with modern science, and one that most would see little practicality with. Science today defines the mental functions of other beings, but it can’t experience it. No human can see in infrared or use echolocation. We only know that it exists, but have no knowledge on how it feels. Doing so would be the ultimate mad experiment. Imagine being within the body of a hummer: no arms, no mouth, a fast beating heart, a human hand the size of a bear, side positioned eyes. When I was young, I pondered how lizards could see. I still can’t understand their vision and never will. But maybe I’ll be wrong. Perhaps there will be a technology that can immerse ourselves into other beings. Regardless of the future, the result would be unnerving, but a little funny.

There’s an underrated fascination to gain from other organisms. I’ve never heard others talk much about conscious dissonance between man and beast. It needs more discussion, no matter how pointless it may seem. Future scientific exploits play a role in it too. Who knows? Many years from now, going within the consciousness of another being might not be so impossible as it appears now. Our connections with certain creatures may give more insight to our inner selves and their own selves. There could be a connection there. Neural patterns and rhythms between human and animal. Maybe so, maybe not. All this is in the end is exploring the possibilities. If humans gained an ability like infrared, how would we use it? How would it affect our ability to relate with other creatures? Would we further dig into our mindset of achievers over lower beings or recognize them as equals? Only simpler brains sharing the same rhythms.