Thursday, July 26, 2007

Three Birds

It was about 5:30 AM. It's still dark. I’m getting started on a little morning exercise. Pacific waves crash onto the beach here at the waters edge, where Marina del Ray and Venice intersect. While sunrise is still about an hour off, the birds of the beach are busy working for their morning meals.

Interestingly, three birds stand out. Let's call the first bird Andy. Andy appears to be pretty ordinary, other than it's the only bird that has a fish today! He's busy feasting at the edge of the water. Then there was Bailey, who's just sitting on the beach, away from the water line. Bailey just watches. And finally, there's Charlie. Charlie is standing atop a giant heap of seaweed, patiently pecking through it. All of the other birds seem to follow the same repetition of scurrying back and forth with the waves. The wave rolls out, the birds waddle down and makes a few darts into the receding shallows. As the next wave rolls in, they scurry back up the beach until the wave returns to the ocean. And then again, and again...

It seems like this dance along the shore is the normal way of feeding. It's what has to be done to be a bird living in CA. They don't seem to mind it either. As one whispered in the sleepy wee hours of the morning..."Hey buddy. It's California. Venice Beach. After all, have you seen what some will do to live here in LA?

So, I had to wonder about Andy, Bailey and Charlie. How did Andy end up with a fish that weighed more than he did? Why was Bailey just sitting there, the only bird just sitting around doing nothing? And, did Charlie know something about seaweed piles that none of the other birds new?

Since birds don't really talk, not even in LA, I did what most people in LA do. I wrote a screenplay!

Andy was steady, optimistic and somewhat of an early bird. Andy is the kind of bird that believes in making the most of every day and being the best bird a bird can be. Andy knew that by being in the position to take advantage of an opportunity, one day his big day would arrive, and he'd cash in. That day was today. It was a prize of a fish, and it'll be a day the grandbirds will hear about for generations.

Bailey was a bird that had once fallen on hard times. A broken toe kept Bailey from the daily work of fishing, and begging beach-goers became the way for Bailey. After the toe healed, Bailey went back to fishing, but soon tired of working tirelessly at the shoreline for a few tiny bites here and there. It just wasn't worth it, knowing that begging tourists for scraps would achieve the same. And tourists were happy to feed Bailey's lazy ways. Bailey had no reason to work the shores with his fellow birds. And Bailey became a social outcast, rejected by society, seemingly happy to sit and watch.

Finally, there was Charlie, who appeared to be the smart bird. Charlie had learned that heaps of seaweed meant heaps of little fish easy for the picking. The seaweed pile trapped hundreds of fish, making a meal as simple as plucking them from the pile. Charlie had struck it rich, not through luck or charity, but by using his bird brain.

I suppose that most birds are made to follow a certain behavior pattern as instinct dictates. They live well and what they do works. Some birds, while maybe not so smart, work hard and are persistent, and they'll get lucky here and there. And other birds learn to cut corners, to find the easy solution. But what happens when the tourists leave? Finally, there are those rare birds that find ways to improve their return on their efforts by thinking, and by being smart birds.

If I were a bird, I'd hope to live high on the seaweed heap. I'd follow Andy's example, avoid Bailey's downfall, and be content if average was the best I could do.

That's how my story ends. I know it could be more exciting, but I was going for an art film.

So off I run, down to the Santa Monica Pier. As the sun rises, what I thought were piles of trash on the beach, heaped next to trash barrels turn out to be people sleeping on the beach.

The sunrise brings out a bevy of runners, skaters and bikers eager to get their day started with a boost of adrenaline, and rush of sweet blood through the body. Dogs and their people find their way into the walkways, and beggars setup shop along the sidewalks.

At this point, probably a mile from my finish, I am just tired. I misjudged my distance, and with each block, I wonder, "are we there yet?" Finally, we're there. And at the end of my run is the Cow's End, a fine coffee joint and great place to sit and watch dogs and their people. Now that's a great end to the start of a great day!

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