Flicker, the good and the bad…

As mentioned last week, one of the beauties of the spring off-season is the chance to connect or reconnect with neighbors and the place. One neighbor that is part of the place that wants to reconnect but that I would prefer not to engage is the Flicker bird that returns each spring. As much as I appreciate our wildlife neighbors up here in the high mountain valley, I could do without the Flicker.

Pretty as he can be, one particular Flicker returned to the area this week and flies around the nearby neighborhood landing on metal chimneys or wood siding and like any good woodpecker, loudly bangs on whatever he can. It’s not the banging, which is annoying, it’s the damage that remains from the Flicker’s attempt to apparently attract a mate and mark territory. Holes in the siding leading to the insulation mark his spot. Grrrr. At the first sound of the wood (or metal) pecking, I jump up, run outside to chase him from his perch, and throw stones in his direction like a crazy person.

According to the Googles: “Like most woodpeckers, Northern Flickers drum on objects as a form of communication and territory defense. In such cases, the object is to make as loud a noise as possible, and that’s why woodpeckers sometimes drum on metal objects. One Northern Flicker in Wyoming could be heard drumming on an abandoned tractor from a half-mile away.” Grrrr. Many Native American tribes have stories that include Flicker characters where the Flicker represents renewal.

I’m all about renewal. That’s why this time of year is one of my favorites in Crested Butte. Talking to some friends over a beer after a chance meeting on a warm and sunny late April afternoon, the idea of CB rhythm came up. The slow pace when the lifts stop spinning is attractive to locals but would be weird to most visitors looking for a typical mountain experience. And that is okay. This place and its people need a chance to breathe and refresh, to reconnect and prepare for summer. April and part of May provides that. 

The Flicker arrives in April each year. So like the blue herons and geese, it is a sign of the time to breathe deeply and relax…but also a sometimes grating reminder that reality and the future busyness is coming. Look, the Flicker can be beautiful and graceful. It can mingle with the other songbirds. As long as he is in the neighborhood trees and not on my house, the Flicker is welcome to be part of the off-season neighborhood

Like the Flicker, much of the real world, especially an administration fronted by Donald, seems to be peckingly annoying right now. Loud, irritating attempts to mark territory seem the norm. Why take the time to pinpoint government efficiency when a chainsaw approach will do? Why nurture longtime friends and allies to line up against legitimate trade adversaries like China when threats and bluster will do? Why layoff fellow citizens from their civil work with compassion and assistance when a sledgehammer wrapped in insults will do? Why go through the process of proving someone is a threat to our society when having masked men snatch them off them the street and “disappeared” to a foreign gulag by just making unproven allegations is enough to send a harsh message for others? Why go through the hassle of securely communicating government secrets when an easily hacked Signal app or Gmail will do? It’s what all the cool kids use, isn’t it? Our new government deep state, apparently led by the likes of Stephen Miller, is proving to be the bad side of a Flicker. Grrrr.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the smoothest of editorial transitions…but it’s off-season. And while I haven’t heard of anyone being “disappeared” from Elk Avenue, Donald’s slippery slope could eventually touch even us here in the bubble. 

So, enjoy our off-season magic but understand that here in the high mountain valley, life comes with the good and the bad of the Flickers.

—Mark Reaman