seattle

Sharp-shinned Hawk /  by Akira Ohiso

I recently downloaded the Merlin Bird ID by Cornell Labs. You can download regional bird packs (libraries) and identify birds via photo or sound. The app is free.

Today, I snapped this photo of a bird I don’t usually see sitting on my patio fence. It was a noticeably larger bird than, say, a crow. It had a stout breast and a wide wingspan on takeoff. The app identified the bird as possibly a Sharp-shinned Hawk.

They are known to frequent the PNW during the winter months but are rarer during breeding season due to other larger predators coasting above for prey. Most travel north to Canada to breed. They feed on smaller birds in flight and backyard bird feeders. One bird site recommends taking down bird feeders for a bit if you see one nearby.

∩ /  by Akira Ohiso

Someone unscrewed our neighbor's ∩ bike rack and stole their electric bike. The rack was found a few houses down. Ring cams are everywhere, but thieves know nothing will happen like coddled college protestors. The revolution will not be televised, but criminal activity will.

My ring cam mostly captures circadian domesticity, which is not engaging content for the app. 👍💬 Viewing shared footage of trespassing, vandalism, and theft might make us believe the community lacks civility.

Negative filtering is not only a cognitive distortion but a media distortion.

Some of the best moments of my day are the serendipitous greetings and short conversations with strangers I encounter. I learn so much about the community from these brief interactions. Conversations are often less defended, less performative, and more honest.

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The fledgling Japanese Maple has grown. It started as a small rooted twig near the next-door plot where a house and trees once stood. Maple tree samaras travel by wind and propagate in other locations. Ellie pulled the twig and transplanted it to an area where it could thrive best.

The lot is fenced with discarded cinder blocks from an old foundation. When it rains, a declination and hollow collects water and looks like a tiny pond. Crows drink and forage during the day, then leave for the night to wooded areas to roost.

Sometimes, we find tin foil pieces in the same area outside our front door. According to the Audubon Society, “Curious crows will often fly off with an object, then lose interest and leave it behind. If the crow happened to leave an object where humans put out food, those humans might get excited and lay out even more food”.

Crows are food-motivated and intelligent, so the “gifts” are learned behavior that helps them obtain more food.

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UPDATE: A Seattle Police officer knocked on my door; he found the neighbor's bike. Our neighbor was unavailable, so they told the police to drop it with me if the bike was found. While the culprit dropped the bike and ran, justice was served.. A big “thank you” to the Seattle Police Officer.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️ /  by Akira Ohiso

Another Kennedy running for president feels like I went into a time machine with no hot tub - Zabruder, Sirhan Sirhan, Cuban missiles, Marilyn Monroe and Chappaquiddick. I was fed images of an American narrative by an apparatus peppered through Saturday morning cartoons, school assemblies, parades and the omnipresent TV.

James Earl Ray assassinated MLK on this day in 1964.

Weather app: A cloud emoji marks every hour of the day. Moisture is granular—gray and slate-colored garages blend into the cloud emojis—the light fools string lights on timers.

I adjust to my growing kids and new relationships with them. I look forward to spring break so the family can spend time together. Often, adults give kids structure, but frequently, my kids provide me with structure.

January Is This /  by Akira Ohiso

January is over. During “the Monday of months,” as F. Scott Fitzgerald once opined, Seattleites vacation to colonized climes, unlike Si’ahl, where land acknowledgments before Zoom meetings absolve. White supremacy often masquerades as white allyship.

Weather talk perpetuates a first-month narrative rife with doom: seasonal affective disorder, rain, cold, darkness, and post-holiday anti-climax. Our selfish minds do all we can to control nature and, similarly, ourselves. Instead of feeling January, we deny it. And in that denial, we repudiate ourselves.

January is a jaundice-lit municipal tunnel from December to spring. In Zombie Island, Roni Horn says, “Roads lack dedication.” She alludes to the road as a denier of place, expedient, a destroyer of the present moment. January is this.