Being in such an obsessively rainy place makes me curious about never before considered subjects. One is the feeling of rain for small birds flying through the air or hopping on the ground. Do their hollow skeletons ring with every small thud of raindrop bursting against body? Or do their feathers double as a type of raincoat like a duck's; transforming the raindrop's epoch transfer of energy into the tiniest of taps on the anatomical rainfly?
While hiking the mountain in front of our apartment yesterday, Nicholai and I duly received a most appreciated dosage of pure sunshine through the exceptionally clear atmosphere. This vitamin D and generally enlivening cast of energy has been much missing from Bergen as hail, rain, and shadowy winds hide the sun's beaming face day after day.
Dogs trotted along the path followed by their keepers, and fellow strollers smiled generously through the fine weather. We sat on a boulder gazing down at Bergen. I always imagine what partially developed places would look like without their man-made structures. A wide arm of sea-water reaching in between a huddle of mountains fully clothed in tree. That is all Bergen once was.
An elderly man with a short, orange dog rounded the bend in the path. He was being conspicuously tailed by two hooded crows and a magpie. One of them was so focused on keeping up with the man that it flew to the next, closest tree but failed to choose a proper perch. The bendy twig comically dumped the crow who had apparently also dumped its own pretense of "wildness". Every ten paces or so the old man rewarded this behavior with a few dog biscuits from a pouch. I imagine that dog biscuits must be considered a delicacy by such scavengers. Never have they been so eager to snatch with their big, black beaks the stale bread I regularly distribute.
The old man's dog was a shrunken version of a husky with a diet too high in carotene. Erect ears, thick, orange fur, and long, curled tail. Nicholai had expressed a liking for this popular breed, so I approached the old man to find out a bit about them. Actually, I approached the dog. My Norwegian isn't exactly good enough to articulate "Hello, Sir. I like your dog very much. Of what breed is she?" The little dog was keen on a nice petting, and the white-haired man, discovering I didn't understand any of his Norwegian questions, obliged me with his basic English.
The dog was a japanese breed. They really are everywhere in Bergen. The man said that she was fourteen (older than him if you believe in "dog-years"). Last year he took her to Oslo (around five hours by train from Bergen) to have the cataracts in her eyes removed by lasic surgery. I said as I affectionately scrubbed the dog, "What a lucky girl you are".
"Yes, so expensive...," he said with the helpless smile of a "softy".
His English was probably the worst of anyone I've met here so far, but it was still good enough to understand me and communicate a few humourous anecdotes.
The crows have been following him for years. He walks the mountain Floyen everyday, and they pursue his biscuit-tossing hand the whole way. "They are practically tame," he said, "and if another dog comes by or anyone else, they fly away. They know me." It is true that crows are intelligent enough to recognize many individual friends and foes.
In his unexcercised mumble he asked, "You are from the United States?"
"Yea, New Jersey."
"Yes, I have many relatives from the mile-high city." It took me a second to remember exactly where that is (Denver, CO).
"And, what do you think about the election?"
This conversation has been standard procedure these days. Hell, if I were from a small country but still up to date on international news, it would be the first thing I'd want to know from an American.
"I think it's very important that we elect Obama. Really important." I said, thinking silently (or else this world is really done for).
My new friend nodded in agreement. "McCain is the same. He is the same as Bush.......And what about Palin," as though I didn't know,"the Alaskan?".
"Horrible! Idiotic."
He said something to the effect of "Arpfkhffffffff!"
We then wished each other a good day -being pleasantly in agreement about the crows and politicians.
Nicholai had remained on the rock, watching and listening. After I had sat back down next to him, he said, "Maybe I should start following that guy around so he could feed me and pay for my lasic surgery...."
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