Art Heals: Birds

Yesterday we went for a weekend walk, 2 ½ hours this time. (During the week, we meet at 5 pm in the living room, having gone to our respective workspaces at 9 a.m. and not communicating again until 5.  “What is he finding in the refrigerator for lunch?  Don’t look Dagmar, none of your business.”)  At 5, if it is not raining, we take a shorter walk, usually about an hour, and continue our tally of the city’s dogs—with many of whom we are getting on a first name basis, albeit from 6 feet away.

But the longer weekend walk offers a different perspective.  Different neighborhoods, different architecture, different trees and flowers.  We are incredibly fortunate that we are still allowed to go for long walks, as long as we keep 6 feet apart from others. 

In Paris, the rules are far stricter.  In order to go out you must carry an “attestation,” a form with your name and address, date, time and signature, stating that you are going out for the allowed reasons, such as medical visit, groceries etc.

French Prime Minister Edouard Philippe clarified the rules : "Going out to take the children for a walk or for physical exercise must be within a distance of one kilometer maximum of your home, for one hour, and obviously alone, once a day," Philippe said.

Because my husband and I separate ourselves all day, walking together is a pleasure for us.  I would find it hard to have to do it alone, with one of us staying home if the other went out, but in Paris, those are the rules for now.

So, for now, we take our extended walks on weekends, blessed with gifted fabric masks. (My joy in knowing artists has no bounds!)

It has been several weeks now that more and more people are on lockdown, and I have noticed some interesting by-products of the restrictions.  Birds.

Usually when I walk in the Spring, I can hear distant chirping coming from some tree or other, but don’t usually spot anything. ( I am not a birdwatcher,  so I can’t tell you the names of anything I do see, except maybe a cardinal (red, my favorite color)  and  once I saw a woodpecker, which I recognized from the jazzy ratatattat  sounding around him.)  But now, as I head past deserted government buildings on my way to the Mall, I see birds on the ground, right in my path, pecking at whatever pleases their palates, and they don’t move away at my approach. Rather than scurrying rapidly across the grass or making a hurried wing-flapping escape into a bush or nearby tree, they stand their ground, because now it is their ground.  Our stay-at-home orders have ceded the outdoors to the ancient and rightful owners of our landscape.  More birds, and bees, and butterflies, and my suburban friends tell me, more furry four-legged creatures too.

It is probably too early to tell if the climate is benefiting from less auto emissions and industrial pollution, but I hope so.  In the meanwhile, I am happy to step aside and let the birds have the right-of-way.  I can get a closer look, and maybe, if this goes on for a while, I might even learn their names.

This bird beautifully painted by artist and filmmaker Anna Kipervasser is called Nightjar.  Do note the headcovering.  Art Heals.