i draw the black straw out of you
Today I spent one hour researching the wandering albatross for a poem. It’s remarkable how quickly the “for a ______” can turn into a “for me”. Today really was no different. I learned that the wandering albatross favors the southern oceans because the winds are at their most furious there. Their wingspans are up to 11 feet – the longest of any living bird, and they can go for hours, days even without flapping. After they are seven years old they find a mate with whom they exclusively breed every two years until one dies. This could be up to 80 years, though most only live into their 60s. They eat octopus, squid, crustaceans and cuttlefish.
Here’s the thing, though, in their non-breeding years, they are known to fly all the way around the world, alone, stopping only to occasionally eat. Some go for months without ever landing. There are many pictures of them online. They sort of look like ducks when they’re in the water, but broader, and thinner maybe. Ancient. And their beaks have more stories. Maybe it’s because they are almost all bone white except a fleck or two of black. I’ve never seen such a graceful looking bird.
But like all things that are holy, they’re endangered now. From the arctic waters to Uruguay and southern Brazil, line fishing has become the rage of the day. And because they don’t have to be near land, the wandering albatross will follow a boat, frequently for months. Often times, they think that the meat on the line is an octopus or squid and will fall to it, thinking of a meal. Then they’re trapped by the hook, and unless someone sees them and frees them from the line, they die there. I imagine it is the worst death for a bird like a wandering albatross: to die in the water, so far from the cold wind and the night air.
I’m struck with melancholy today. Perhaps it is thinking of the fate of the wandering albatross that has suddenly ruined my mood. I should think rather of the years spent flying around the great waters of the world. I should think of bellies fat with eggs and the longest moon blessed wings. I will try, at least, for this cure.
Here’s the thing, though, in their non-breeding years, they are known to fly all the way around the world, alone, stopping only to occasionally eat. Some go for months without ever landing. There are many pictures of them online. They sort of look like ducks when they’re in the water, but broader, and thinner maybe. Ancient. And their beaks have more stories. Maybe it’s because they are almost all bone white except a fleck or two of black. I’ve never seen such a graceful looking bird.
But like all things that are holy, they’re endangered now. From the arctic waters to Uruguay and southern Brazil, line fishing has become the rage of the day. And because they don’t have to be near land, the wandering albatross will follow a boat, frequently for months. Often times, they think that the meat on the line is an octopus or squid and will fall to it, thinking of a meal. Then they’re trapped by the hook, and unless someone sees them and frees them from the line, they die there. I imagine it is the worst death for a bird like a wandering albatross: to die in the water, so far from the cold wind and the night air.
I’m struck with melancholy today. Perhaps it is thinking of the fate of the wandering albatross that has suddenly ruined my mood. I should think rather of the years spent flying around the great waters of the world. I should think of bellies fat with eggs and the longest moon blessed wings. I will try, at least, for this cure.
posted by jessica at 7:35 PM
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