"I don't ask for the meaning of the song of a bird or the rising of the sun on a misty morning. There they are, and they are beautiful."
Pete Hamill
BROOKLYN-BORN journalist and author Pete Hamill might not come first to mind as a man who would notice the beauty beyond the frantic streets of his Tabloid City.
But for those of us who have seen New York only through the eyes of filmmakers or news cameras, Hamill needs few words to conjure up still-life snapshots of his home town.
Love alloyed with pain.
Imagine.
A face at the window of a Manhattan brownstone.
A hand tossing crumbs to pigeons gargling on sidewalks far below.
A bird on the balcony sings an ode to that misty morning.
Links to life outside the human condition of a billboard city.
Whether in down-atheel brownstone or in the concrete and glass of today, I wonder how human beings can live healthy and happy stacked atop and alongside one another.
The very thought makes it hard to breathe.
Perhaps that's why I linger each morning.
Listening for birdsongs amid branches of a cherry tree nearby.
A small pause. To see the miracle of art that is a varied thrush or purple finch. Birds connect us to a world more exquisitely designed than are our daily tasks.
Beautiful. Yet even love of birds can be stopped short by the jackhammering of a northern flicker on the roof.
Never satiated by his gorging at the woodpecker suet-cakes hung out for his pleasure, this resplendently attired avian gentleman may soon discover he has overstayed his welcome.
But as North Shore birdlovers already know, any plan to place fake owls in his path would not be the only threat to our feathered neighbours this spring.
A few weeks ago, the remains of a yellow-grey bird lay scattered on the frosttipped grass at my door.
With broken wing as evidence, scavenging crows were tried in absentia and found guilty of murder.
Two days later, a pine siskin lay on its back, tiny feet curled in the air.
Believing it dead and connecting the two incidents, I took up the bird thinking to at least give it a decent burial - and felt a slight fluttering of its wings.
No injury to be found, I cuddled the bird in a soft cloth, put it in a box and took it inside for some warmth.
Lacking the teaspoonful of brandy that was my dad's tried-and-true method of blasting an ailing chicken into good health, all I could do was wait to see if the tiny creature would revive.
Alas it was not to be and worse was yet to come.
Not only did that bird die but media across the Lower Mainland began to report similar deaths throughout the region.
In reply to my Feb. 17 enquiry to the Burnabybased Wild Life Rescue Association, communications co-ordinator Yolanda Brooks said that test results received from the Abbotsford Animal Health Centre laboratory confirmed "50 per cent of the birds tested were infected with Salmonella sero-group B."
So many siskins were dying, the WLRA asked the lab to look for evidence of other diseases. A second variant, Salmonella typhirmurium, was present. Nothing else was found.
Asked why other species were not dying, Brooks replied "the general consensus among scientists and wildlife experts is that although goldfinches and sparrows are sometimes infected, the flocking behaviour of siskins makes it easy for the disease to spread throughout the species."
"Flocks can be 200-strong during eruption years," she explained.
"They also feed on the ground below the feeders where there is likely to be a build-up of feces."
Wendy Morton who, with husband John, owns Wild Birds Unlimited on North Vancouver's Marine Drive, was armed with information about the disease outbreak.
"The first defence is to take down all the feeders to curb the spread of the infection," she told me.
Morton said that when the flocks of pine siskins are as large as they are this spring, the birds become stressed and vulnerable to disease.
"Taking down the feeders for two to three weeks allows the birds to disperse," she explained.
Morton suggested using a 10 per cent solution of bleach to clean feeders and bird-baths more often during the outbreak - at least twice a week.
A small price to pay for the enjoyment of seeing these creatures fly in to greet us and sing awhile.
Meanwhile, as human beings increase their developed footprint on this land, would it be possible for architects to include scroll-work or other such designs on the windowed facades of new buildings, to prevent at least some of the sad collisions between the innocent world of birds and the densities of Hamill's tabloid cities?
