That Much for a Bounty

            A couple of months ago I saw an advertisement in TimeOut New York magazine that announced the opening of a Civil War Art expo at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Specifically, the infamous photography of Matthew Brady during the conflict. It had been on my mind for some time to see this exhibit, but with the summer in full swoon there's been much more interest in the beach than checking out some museum, although air conditioning is also a worthy influence. After a tremendous morning at work I decided to hop on the subway for a quick ride to 77th and Lexington and then the few blocks walk to 5th Ave.

            The front of the MET (Metropolitan Museum of Art) is undergoing renovations and all these construction walls and eye-sores had me thinking that the main entrance with the large stairs was closed. It turns out when I was exiting that the large stairway entrance is still available, its just that my initial view was blocked off from the annoying construction stuff. I had to enter the museum through a side entrance I never used before. The (recommended) adult donation fee was listed at twenty five bucks, but I just gave them a ten dollar bill. The cashier asked if I wanted any change back, but I let the museum keep the whole ten. The MET used to rely on different colored pins to be worn as proof of paying the entrance fee. A clever individual not interested in making a donation could ask for someone else's pin on the way out, or even better, have every color collected, and just slip on the right one after finding out what color the museum was using that day. Now the museum is no longer relying on the pin color system. Instead they're giving out stickers with the date printed on it to make it more difficult for those clever individuals who might try to sneak in without paying a donation (which literally could be a dollar). It was a weekday afternoon; a perfect time to come when there isn't the usual tourist overload as on weekends. The good part about entering the museum through this way was that I found myself in a section I don't recall ever visiting. I've been to the MET a countless number of times, but I don't remember ever seeing the Ancient Greece section I found myself in. It gave me an opportunity to catch up with Socrates and see a backside that was nearly five thousand years old.

            After a little stroll I coincidentally became faced with the Civil War Art exhibit I came to see in the first place. It just popped in front of my face out of nowhere. They placed the section under a large tent, the type of large tents that served as mobile hospitals behind the battlefield to give patrons the an authentic Civil War experience. The only unfortunate part of the exhibit is that it is one of the few areas in which photos are not allowed to be taken. Of course a few tourists found their opportunities to play 'I no read English' and snap a few pictures, which drew the ire of security guards. From what I learned in school and what is generally accepted as common knowledge in American History is that Matthew Brady was mainly responsible for the photographs taken on the battlefields. After reading about the photos - I found out that's not entirely true. Yes, he did spend some time in the trenches with the North and snapped a few pictures when he was able to, but most of the shots came from photographers most people don't know about; Timothy H. O'Sullivan and Alexander Gardner to name a couple. The more cunning Brady was able to collect pictures from these other photographers and publish them in books under his name, taking most of the credit. Brady was initially allowed to accompany Northern troops at the Battle of Bull Run in which the Union foolishly thought the Confederates would be easily defeated by one quick skirmish. The South surprised the North with a victory at Bull Run which gave them the momentum in the war until Gettysburg turned the tide in 1863. The fighting was so fierce at Bull Run that Brady couldn't secure any pictures during the action (with also remembering in those days photography wasn't as simple as it is now). One infamous picture Brady can be rightfully credited for is one of Confederate General Robert E. Lee. The picture was snapped while Lee was in defeat, but he maintained this curiously pleasant look on his face that has brought the image so much notoriety. The photo session took place at Lee's home two days after Lincoln was assassinated. The Lee picture is generally referred to as the last of the Civil War photographs.

            The expo contain more than just the photographs, there were actual campaign ribbons from when Lincoln was first running for president. When the war was underway, there were posters trying to get (Caucasian) citizens to enlist. The one I found most interesting was for Field Artillery. They were offering $150 on the spot if you signed up, and $452 if you previously served in the army for more than nine months and wanted to re-enlist. Being part of the Infantry and running up to the front lines with a musket almost guaranteed death, I think I would rather be back with the Field Artillery shooting off cannons, if I had the choice. All the volunteer posters made it clear that if you got drafted, then you would receive no bounty(money). The only way to make money from being a Union soldier is if you volunteered. Blacks did serve in the Union and Confederate armies, but their role was to act as servants for the white soldiers. The film "Glory" tells the true story of an all-Black Union regiment, but those situations were extremely rare. Doctors made use of the camera technology at the time. They would photograph wounded soldiers and show the proper method to amputate a limb or sew up a hole or cut. Then the photographs would be sent to other makeshift hospitals on the battlefields to serve as a guide for other doctors to follow. The pictures were quite graphic to my surprise. Both sides of the conflict couldn't imagine how bloody things would get and as a result there was a large shortage of surgeons and doctors available to treat wounded soldiers. These medical photographs certainly came in handy when manpower and knowledge was in short supply.

            I didn't eat lunch before arriving, so by the time I was finished with the Civil War section I was rather hungry. I usually never use the museum cafeteria, but I didn't want to leave so soon - I wanted more for my ten dollar donation. For the first time ever I elected to try the cafeteria food. They have hot and cold food buffet style, and charge $14.10 per pound. The options were quite limited and I had thoughts of just going hungry for a few more hours, but I was doing alot of walking so some food would be necessary. I picked out what seemed to be cubes of quiche(I hope), rice with peas(didn't eat the peas), and a piece of flounder. These seemed to be the lightest items and my gamble paid off as the total came out to eleven dollars, which included a Snapple. Considering museum prices; this wasn't bad at all - except for the taste. With some energy back in my body from the "food", I picked up on my journey through the museum. My next stops included Dutch artistry such as Rembrandt and European such as Matisse. One funny moment occurred when a tourist went too close to a sculpture the alarm started sounding. Apparently the museum has installed detectors and make a noise when a person is getting too close to the piece. They're not big alarms for the whole museum to hear, but they make enough noise for the nearby security guard to come over and yell. If the person backs away, then the warning alarm shuts off. The Civil War expo wasn't the only special attraction at the MET, there was also Musical Instruments, the history of Punk (also no photo taking allowed), and something so basic yet so clever - Pictures from the 1920's to 1970's. I see those at flea markets and antique shops all the time. Collections of old pictures of regular people doing regular stuff. For this particular exhibit, someone went around to these venues and collected a massive amount of old pictures and put the most interesting ones on display.

            By this time my legs were beginning to get tired and I wanted to get on the subway before the rush hour crowds took full effect. The only problem is I couldn't find my way out of the place. I kept going in circles and ended up at the same places over and over again. It did allow me to encounter some other sections I didn't see that day that I'm happy about; such as Native American and African art, but the only time I completely stopped searching for the exit is when I came upon the Modern Art area. The bright colors and vivid designs pulled me in to check out more of it. The piece I enjoyed the most was Andy Warhol's version of the Mona Lisa in his vintage multi-faced photographed on canvas form. Usually when I go to the MET I find time to visit the Egyptian area (best attraction) and pass by the Knights in Shinning Armor, but at this point I just wanted out of this maze. Through a few lucky guesses and turns I found myself in the Ancient Greek section again, which is where I came in, and I was finally able to find that exit. Such as most museums trips; I saw much but wish I had the time to see more. It was really a perfect day to go with the crowd light in numbers and certain rooms completely empty which allowed for personalized viewership. The Civil War expo is there till September 2nd and its well worth a donation under twenty five dollars. In no time I was out of the museum and back at the subway station to head home. Due to a fire on the tracks at E. 149th Street; my train had to make all local stops and naturally the air conditioner on the over-crowded subway car was broken on this muggy summer day.

            And they thought they had it tough in the Civil War.....

Two in the Hand

             Ferry Point Park has moved its way high on my destination list of places to ride my bike to. As Spring sneaked its way through the endless wall of Winter we had up in the Northeast, the park has been the beneficiary of a wide range of different types of birds I don't recall seeing in these parts. There's common and semi-common Spring attractions such as robins and cardinals, but I've been seeing finches, orioles, and other birds I have no idea what category they fall under. I'm not sure if its a migration issue, a climate issue (as Spring rapidly turned into Summer), or the fact the birds found a new place to hang out. Either way, I like biking there before or after any heavy crowds might be around because that's when all these wonderous birds are on full display.

             One afternoon after returning from work, I felt a need to get on my bike and head over to my little "bird sanctuary" before the sun was about to set. There weren't many people around except a few kids playing with a remote-control truck. I made a full circle around the bike path of the park and was on my way back home when this blue jay darted out in front of me. It was flying at a very low altitude, barely a foot off the ground, which gave me the impression that something was off. The bird was flying ahead of me and I chased to see if there was anything wrong with it. The blue jay veered off the bike path and landed in a patch of high grass, now I knew something was wrong. A normal bird in that condition would've just flown up to a tree or high in the sky to escape, instead this one just stayed on the ground as I approached on foot. I was able to pick it up with relative ease, the blue jay didn't put up much of a struggle. It wasn't a baby anymore, but I could tell it wasn't large enough to be a full adult. Looking at its tail, I noticed part of it was ripped off, so either the blue jay injured itself or was attached by a larger bird or other animal. The busted tail was probably the main reason it couldn't fly correctly and I knew if I just left it there, very likely a cat or some other animal would kill it. I've captured several types of sick or injured birds over the years; starlings, pigeons, sparrows, but I never caught a blue jay and I always wished I had. Though I was initially concerned over its safety, I was equally excited over the fact I finally had a blue jay after wanting one for so many years.

             I began riding my bike; controlling the handle bars with one hand and cupping the blue jay in the other. The first few blocks the blue jay didn't put up a struggle, but then after the initial shock of a human hand faded away, the bird started to squirm. The odds I was going to be able to ride all the way home without losing the grip on the bird were increasingly shrinking. I needed to find a solution and fast. About a minute away there was a Home Depot store, but that would involve physically taking my bike and blue jay inside the giant outlet which security may not appreciate, so that idea flew away. Then I saw my answer laying on the curb. As I passed a UPS location, I saw that a number of used boxes had been discarded in their front garbage. I quickly grabbed a box that didn't look too filthy and placed the blue jay carefully inside. Now holding the box at my side, I was able to peddle without worry of losing the bird. The darkness must have made it panic because it kept jumping up and headbutting the top of the box. I also heard some flapping going on inside the box, so it was certainly fighting to get out of there. Without the ability to fly correctly, it would've been as good as dead if I changed my mind and released it back into the wild. With the energy it was displaying inside the box, I was thinking of naming it Fiesty. We were back in my apartment fifteen minute later and I had to lock Leo in another room so he wouldn't try to attack it.

            Once I opened the box, Fiesty hopped around on the floor and even flew around into the kitchen. I tried to give him some crumbled crackers, but he wasn't interested. Then I placed his beak under the running water from the facet to see if he'll take a drink. He took a little, but the rest of the time he kept his mouth sealed shut. After a few minutes Fiesty calmed down and even sat perched upon my finger like a domesticated bird. The only problem is it struggled to stand up straight, it kept leaning backwards and forwards as if it had no balance. This wasn't a good sign, clearly, but again, it was better off than being left outside as easy prey for a cat or falcon/hawk. There's no birds allowed in my building, plus Leo is around, so I decided to take the blue jay over to my parents where there's a cage of starlings it could live in. I brought the blue jay over and tossed it in the cage. The starlings fluttered around inside the cage at the sight of the intruder, while Fiesty remained on the floor. It took a good half-hour for all the birds to calm down, and when they did, the blue jay jumped up to the top perch inside the cage and it was looking as if it was making itself at home. So then all signs turned to positive that it was going to survive. The trick with "wild birds" is getting them young, because they easier adapt to the domesticated lifestyle. Older birds simply shut down internally and die within a few hours or a day. Fiesty wasn't exactly a spring chicken, but it wasn't a full-blown adult, so I gave it a 50/50 chance of surviving.

             The next day the initial reports from my parents was that the blue jay was getting along fine, under the circumstances. They didn't see it eating or drinking, but it was still up on the perch and even pecking away at some of the bird toys hanging inside of the cage. A few hours later when I visited, it was a totally different scenario. I found Fiesty at the bottom of the cage with its head hunched over - it had that death look. I held him and tried to get him to drink or accept some food, but it would do neither. It seemed like it was struggling to breath and with each passing minute it got weaker and weaker. Finally, its body gave one last big twitch and it was gone. I literally felt it die. It could've been from an injury suffered the day before when I found it with a busted tail, or perhaps like the bird that was out in the wild too long, it wasn't going to accept a domesticated life like his starling roommates did. We weren't exactly sure what to do with the remains. If was it was buried in the backyard there could always be the chance the dog digs it up, and simply tossing it in the garbage isn't a great send-off, plus it might be in there a few days until the next garbage pick-up; attracting stray cats and raccoons in search of a meal. I said I'd take the bird with me and figure something out. It was placed in a small brown paper bag and I walked home while thinking of a good place to dispose the body. At a street corner in front a Chinese food take-out place was a public trash can, likely to be picked up by sanitation, sooner rather than later. I placed the brown bag special in the trash can and kept on my merry way.

             The very next morning I returned to Ferry Point Park and did my usual circling around the bike path while gazing at all the birds flying around, as well as the geese and ducks in the water. I was pretty bummed out about losing Fiesty and wondered what the odds would be of finding another blue jay. This time it was a Saturday, with alot of sun, and people were filling up the park. I had a Yankee game at 1pm and was on my way back home to get ready for it, but as I tried to exit the park I noticed these two aquatic birds were scurrying around the grass as if they were searching for something. There is water not too far away, but it didn't make sense that these birds were so close to the parking lot and away from the shoreline. Then in a small patch of burnt grass I saw what the birds were looking for, a baby hatchling. I was confronted with the same options I had only forty-eight hours earlier; do I leave the bird or take it? It didn't seem injured like the blue jay was, and its parents were only a few yards away, but I had to consider two facts. First, the park was getting filled up with families and kids, and there were plenty of children riding their scooters and bikes in close proximity. There was a very good chance the baby bird was going to be run over at some point. Second, the parents and baby bird were so far away from the water I strongly doubt they would've been able to steer it back to the shoreline, where likely the nest was located. I needed to spring into action and fast before the baby turned into scooter roadkill. I scooped up the bird with one hand and controlled the handle bars with the other and headed for home.

            As a baby the bird didn't struggle in my hand as much as Fiesty was while I rode the bike, but I still worried about accidentally losing my grip on it. Luckily on the side of a bike path I saw an empty Dunkin Donuts box, used to carry a case of six, and placed the little birdy inside. Whereas people must have thought I was riding with a case of donuts, I was instead riding with a tiny baby bird. It was about the same routine when I got back to the apartment; I locked Leo inside and tried to give it some water, which it accepted. It was making an urgent peeping noise, likely signaling for the mother, which I felt bad about, but at this young stage of its life usually the bird would be willing to accept a human as the mother figure. I was quite perplexed at what type of bird this was. I figured it was one of those birds you see at the beach with the very long legs and body-size of a dove. The feathers on its body hadn't fully grown in yet and its hair was a little fuzzy, so I wanted to name it Puffin. The Yankee game was rapidly approaching and I couldn't leave the bird in the apartment in case it kept chirping and someone informed the landlord, so I made another trip back to my parents with a tiny package. Puffin was certainly too small to go inside the cage with the starlings, plus it wasn't a "tree branch" type of bird, so we set it up in a tank with flat grounding. I couldn't stay long because I needed to get back to the apartment to change for the game. One of the cats was more than willing to keep an eye on the bird until I got back.

             The Yankees won that afternoon and I raced back to my parents to see how everything was getting along with the baby bird. While I was at the game they called a bird expert and this specialist seemed to know everything about this bird without even seeing it. He confirmed it was an aquatic bird and mentioned it is common for them to run away from the nest areas along the shoreline and end up on baseball fields and so forth. He also recommended we take the bird back to the likely nest area as soon as possible in hopes the parents would accept it back. In the meantime he said he could give it crickets to eat and there were some already in the tank when I got back. The time was late afternoon, and with people and kids still likely jammed in the park, the idea of taking the bird back and leaving it on the sand with everyone around was a certain death sentence. Also, the odds the parent birds were going to hear its cries, find it, and take it back into the nest had to be very minimal. The only chance of that occurring was if we brought it there very early in the morning when nobody but nature was awake. As I held the bird in my hand while the cats watched on, I noticed the bird was trying to crawl up my sleeve, as if trying to get into a nest. I was trying to hand-feed it some crickets, but like the blue jay, it wasn't displaying an appetite. Then I got to thinking that maybe if I create a nest inside the tank, it will feel at home, and hence eat the crickets that come inside. The bird expert said that these types of birds feast on small bugs that crawl on the sand.

              Using a hand towel, I created a small cave-live structure and placed the tiny bird inside. My hypothesis was a great one because within a minute the bird devoured any cricket that foolishly made its way into the towel-nest. Then Puffin became aggressive and left the nest in search of more crickets to consume. It even ate a dead cricket that had drown and was floating in the water dish. When all was said and done it must have polished off about fifteen crickets in the matter of three minutes. This was certainly a great sign that the bird was going to survive! We still weren't sure yet where or how we would be able to release it back into the wild, but for the time being it was good news that the bird was eating on its own. The next day passes and the bird looked the same as the day before, but this time it wasn't eating anymore. It was spending most of its time asleep in the towel-nest. That night, for whatever reason, it went to sleep one final time and never woke up again. It was quite baffling since it was devouring crickets like they were going out of style only forty-eight hours before. As a baby, it didn't know the wild life long enough to shut down internally after being taken inside a house. It was very baffling for it to have died that way, the blue jay I could understand, but not with a baby bird who ate and showed strong indications of surviving. Both bird cases, I still think they were the right choices of taking them versus leaving with the variables surrounding them at the time, but you can always make the right choice and it still doesn't work out right - that's nature.

             I wasn't left in charge of the body disposal the second time around.......