WELCOME BACK MOTZIE! 3 YRS & STILL STRONG

Well Motz, this is my present to you as we near the third anniversary of your death. I will always write to you my Motzie. Are you singing with the starlings? If you were a starling, would you eat meat? Should the world be ruled by starlings? Are they the real Lord God Birds?

Well I suppose we'll find as we go along. It was mentioned to me recently that the memorial to a Moluccan Cockatoo outside a freshly built medical clinic in wild Seram, Malaku, Indonesia was culturally absurd and viewed with amusement by Seramese. Loony Americans I believe it was said.

I guess if being loony means that I can see God through a bird, then yes, I am loony and I see God in this surreal, coral-colored winged spirit, yes I am a complete loon! The sight of such birds in their wild habitat must then surely be heaven.

I shall have to suggest that it might be conveyed in this light to Muslim and Christian Seramese alike. That belly button of the world there, right on the volcano belt of the Pacific, Seram, is heaven to some of us way all the way over the other side of the world. Where we see a man in the moon instead of the obvious drum-pounding hare. Or to the Norwegians, the egg-laden prolific breeder of Hispania.

So I've found a wonderful new way to talk about the most passionate thing in my life next to the preservation of all those animals closest to me at this moment.

I suppose St. Francis would have been considered insane in the country where my Mozart is from. My buschka is from a land where St. Francis would have been thought to have a brain fever for his realization that the living Christ is present even in a snail and just as bright there as anywhere.

Then again, Christians here probably think the same thing. They probably figure he'd lost it and that could be the only possibility for such sentimentality. When actually the presumption of superiority is really many 'excuse' St. Francis in this way.

Over here we simply think of him as someone we want to meet as soon as we go. Along with all of our lost animal friends, including Fluffy from the midwest and Chopin from Virginia.

And then, there's Happy. Happy Go Lucky Moluccan with the hole, now healing, in his chest. The most speciesist comment of all coming from my best friend who couldn't imagine an animal having unnatural abnormal behavior. Oh disappointment. Now as I get older, I continually observe more nuances and sympathies from Joseph Campbell toward animals he is mentioning. That includes a First Nation story of the buffalo herd having a shaman. A shaman of the buffalo herd. Pretty strong role there for a supposed inferior life form.

But I digress...

By now one should be able to know where I place the wild cacatua moluccensis on the scale of evolution.

For now, tonight's comment is that Happy's skin graft fell off (told the vet I should bring the scab to Wendy's and all had a chuckle) and there is 'granulated tissue' beneath after debriding. Still a chance this might work. Yay!

The resurrection of my ongoing conversation with the M2 species of cockatoo is dedicated to my mentor and master, Mozart of Seram.

Mozart, I'll always be talking with you and please invite Chopin, Fluffy and gold boy too. Welcome back, it's good to talk with you again my Motzie.