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Mary Oliver Poem 6 – The Loon on Oak-Head Pond

Mary Oliver Poem 6 – The Loon on Oak-Head Pond

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 33, Mary Oliver lets us see the loon, or at least, as much as the evening light and the misted land lets you see it.  Oliver starts the short poem in an interesting fashion, where the title of the poem “The Loon on Oak-Head Pond” flows right into the first sentence, “cries for three days, in the gray mist”.  The poem continues to start lines with action words like cries, plunges, and blinks, and each time the loon, in any form, is not spoken of.  It’s only the actions of the loon that show in her writing.  When one does not have a movie screen to show a scene, and only pen and paper, evoking a sense of mystery or a cloaked surrounding must be done through literary elements.  It’s quite clever how Oliver maintains a cohesive scene description without mentioning the loon directly at all, because it helps convey to the reader a sense of absence or mystery about the loon.  You can sense the loon, hear the loon, but can never get one good gaze at it.

The next part of the poem addresses the human observer in the story, putting the reader directly in their shoes.  It says, “you come every afternoon, and wait to hear [the loon]” under the thick pines of the forest “as though it were your own vanishing song”.  The key words of ‘you’ and ‘yours’ give to the reader a sense of being in that scene of nature.  The mark of a good writer is one that doesn’t need to say “imagine you’re there”, but actually put the reader there, and immerse them in a realistic setting of thick pines in the gray mist.

Oliver’s writing also brings to me a sense of tranquility.  There’s a thought of the loon being mysterious and vanishing into nature, but alongside that comes a sense of quiet observation and meditative understanding.  I believe that if I was in that scene I would take in a deep breath of natural air and also be patient, listen for the sound of the loon.

Mary Oliver Poem 5 – June

            Mary Oliver Poem 5 – June

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 19, Mary Oliver captures the viewing experience of a swallow’s flight, likely in the sunny summer weather of June.  It’s a simple scene of a single swallow swooping in the air above an ocean (near a beach that the poem describes).  The swallow continually soars up and then dives as it catches and drops a feather.  It’s all described very lightheartedly, and quickly, much like an allegro paced piece of music.  From the start of the poem, the feeling that the reader should have is apparent and stays consistently excited through the whole piece.

The feather and the bird are described in words and phrases that capture their spirits.  The feather is “thin and white” and the swallow dances in the air with its “blue shoulders”.  Very light and bright colors are evoked here to paint a scene that’s lighthearted and gentle.  However, the sentence structure while describing these physical things also reflects on the nature of bird and feather.  It’s from a narrator’s perspective, commenting “[i]t flies too – or is it floating?” and “[n]ow the bird approaches land…[an] object is also over the beach.  A feather!”  These thoughts are quickly paced and excited, using short phrases and punctuation that brings words to life.  As I read this, I think about old animated cartoons of birds flying in the air and abruptly diving now and then, all the while an allegro orchestral piece plays in the background. 

            Many poems about nature is intentional and strategic, such as a bird of prey on the hunt, but this makes the swallow seem to play with the feather for sport!  After a number of times tossing the feather in the air, the bird lets the feather drop into the sea, and simply flies away into the distance.  Did the feather, or the bird’s actions, have any meaning in terms of survival or some definite purpose?  It did not.  However, this writing is not about a certain goal, but about the sensation of carefree fun.  It’s easy to forget that animals play as well as humans (I think to wolf or lion cubs, or even dogs and cats).  At this moment, I also think back to the name of this piece, June.  I was surprised at first that it was not called “the feather” or “the swallow”, but in retrospect, it makes sense.  This writing captures the feeling of summer, of freedom and rebirth, of bright suns and clear skies and sparkling oceans.  June indeed is the setting for the poem, but June is also a feeling that one has in their heart, and that the swallow exemplified in their play.

Mary Oliver Poem 4 - Crow

Mary Oliver Poem 4 - Crow

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 52, Mary Oliver explores the day to day life of a crow.  Every morning, the crow trots along the beach with the air of positivity and energy, “as though he found the world brand-new, and wonderful…made especially for him”.  The confidence and happiness of the bird continues as he comes across a plentitude of worms and littered food from humans.  The crow talks like a person, saying “oh yes…this is good, here is breakfast and lunch”, pleased by the pile of food and by the good world the crow lives in.  The words aren’t there just to explain the crow’s thoughts, but to emphasize their emotion, being pleasantly surprised and grateful for the bounty provided by the beach.  It’s a very carefree and upbeat feeling that comes from this bird.

The narrator expresses the desire to be friends with the crow, but upon approach, the bird shuns the person with their black cloak of feathers flapping them just a little bit away.  Notably, not too far down the beach, to obtain some distance from the narrator, is how far the crow flutters.  It’s not a scene of fearful flight, but one of wariness or perhaps disdain, and I like to think the crow, if they could speak in this moment, would say “I’m not one for company, leave me and my food in peace”. 

Why does the narrator wish to befriend this bird of solitude?  It’s revealed how the narrator feels in the last paragraph, as they are yet to have seen “anything cleaner, bolder, more gleaming, more certain of its philosophy” than the crow with its eyes.  The narrator notes how the crow is pleased by the small things in the world, and keeps an upbeat and prideful attitude as it struts down the beach.  The narrator has admiration in this bird, and I would like to think that the narrator would want a friend with such contagious positive energy as the crow.

Mary Oliver Poem 3 - Hawk

            Mary Oliver Poem 3 – Hawk

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 20, Mary Oliver explores the majestic hawk in a morning in nature.  The hawk perches carefully on a pine tree, compared to “an admiral…distinguished with sideburns”.  Right from the start of the poem, Oliver anthropomorphized this bird, and gave them qualities of something to be respected, and perhaps feared.  The narrator remarks to themselves that this hawk “is heaven’s fistful of death and destruction”, a reminder of not only the bird’s power, but of its awareness of its power, with the intent to use it for some purpose.

Every movement of the bird is taken into account, with the narrator noting when “the hawk hooked one exquisite foot onto a last twig to look deeper into the yellow reeds”, reminiscent of some sort of hunter.  The image that came to my mind in this moment was of a pirate at the top of a ship’s mast, taking out a spyglass and leaning forward slightly to get a good look at an incoming ship.

Oliver utilizes images that make me torn about how I should truly feel about the bird.  There are many moments anthropomorphizing the bird as a military man or as a hunter in the forest.  However, at the end of her writing, the hawk soars over to its prey and darts downwards like a “white blade”, making me think back to images of “heaven’s fist” and “the white lily of resurrection” and the hawk’s “golden feet”, all which seem to be an allusion to the beauty and brilliance of something divine, like an angel.  So then, what is this mighty bird, a human hunter, or an angel of great power?  

Perhaps there is no one right answer, and perhaps it is both!  I at least notice how throughout the writing that the hawk is an image of power, of elegance, of intent.  I humbly think of the hawk as something to be respected, to be awed by, in their graceful hunt.

Mary Oliver Poem 2 - Hummingbirds

            Mary Oliver Poem 2 – Hummingbirds

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 28, Mary Oliver writes an encounter between the narrator and hummingbirds.  The human finding them on their branch was accidental.  Not “knowing they were there”, and climbing the tree for “something to do”, the narrator finds the small, colorful, and precious hummingbird mother and her children, and is eyed warily by the birds before they dart away.

The next part of the poem is rather abstract, but has a rather beautiful message once I read it over a few times.  The person is alone now, and wanders the world from China to Prague, before dying and being born again when spring came back, finding and loving “you” again.  I identified China and Prague to well symbolize distant and vivid sites to see of the world, of civilization, which represents the narrator’s long search for something meaningful and beautiful.  However, they do not find anything that resonates with them, and so they “die”, likely in an emotional and spiritual sense.  Once springtime comes again, and the hummingbirds return to the blooming landscape, the narrator finds them again, likely having run outside to climb some trees in search for these birds.  The scene with images of China, Prague, death, and life flashing within mere moments indicates a sense of timelessness that Oliver creates to demonstrate, without directly saying it, that the narrator became aimless and yearning for something better in the world.  I appreciate these writing choices, because not only can I notice and appreciate the artistic choices, but I am influenced by the writing as well, where I feel just as aimless as the narrator with their aimless wandering, and their sudden jolt of excitement and love at the turn of spring.

The story then slows down, focusing on the remainder of that day, with the darkness coming and the moon rising.  However, there is no sense of rush or meaninglessness anymore, as the narrator is in no hurry, having likely visited “all the shimmering, heart-stabbing questions without answers” in the tree.  Again, Mary Oliver does not need to use direct words, because the abstract and emotional descriptions given by the narrator explain how they found peace at last.  The aimlessness of China and Prague were because the narrator could not find the same beauty and love in manmade locations and structures, as they did in the sudden visit to the hummingbird. 

The hummingbird can symbolize different things between interpretations.  One way I think of the poem is that the narrator experienced a spiritual moment in nature, feeling connected to something greater and more beautiful than anything else in the narrow, civilized life of a human.  Another way I look at the poem is that sometimes, one does not have one single path in life to follow, and that what we truly want in this world cannot be marked on a map, but found along the journey of life, such as the chance encounter between the narrator and the hummingbird.  Being “three drops of silvery water” that quickly flutter away, the hummingbird also may symbolize, simplicity in smaller things, that short moment can be more meaningful than weeks or months doing something else.  Don’t take the small moments in life for granted.

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Mary Oliver Poem 1 - White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field

Mary Oliver Poem 1 – White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field

In Owls and Other Fantasies, page 54, Mary Oliver describes in detail the event of a white owl diving into a field in the winter to catch some small prey.  Rather than describing it as a grotesque or animalistic hunt, Oliver describes the scene as beautiful and graceful.  The magnificent creature is “like an angel” with its bright white wings which touch the ground briefly as it swoops down to capture its prey.  It’s not quite like a plane landing down, it’s more like a plane diving downwards and lightly touching the runway only to rise back upwards, never missing a beat in its airborne journey.

The skilled hunter is shown in a more positive light than I would have put it in, had I seen the event with my own eyes.  I would likely have reacted along the lines of “Yeesh, that startled me, I’m glad that I’m not that field mouse”.  Therefore, I gain a whole level of appreciation for the owl through the lens of Mary Oliver.  Nature may be swift and predatory like the owl, but it also has the elegance and wonder of something spiritual, perhaps like an angel.

What stood out most to me about this poem is the rather pensive reflection by Oliver at the end of the poem, comparing the owl to death itself.  Rather than a dark figure, Oliver likens death to the white owl, “light wrapping itself around us… as soft as feathers” as it carries our weary selves to the end of things.  The owl is already in a way a symbol of death, claiming the life of the small prey, but by observing the owl with reverence, it becomes a much less scary thing.  Usually when I think of death (thought it is many years ahead of me), I become scared, a dark foreboding or ominous entity coming to terminate my existence.  However, Oliver is able to use nature as a spiritual place to quell my nerves.  I like it much better to think of death as a peaceful end of things, the natural course of one’s life, where one is swooped away by something quick, soft, and light.  Death is still a place of mystery and great power, but we humans have the control over thinking of it in a positive or negative light.  If we must go (and one day we inevitably shall), then why should we spend the time we have on this earth fearing the end?  Life would be much better spent appreciating our time, our place in this world, and calmly preparing to welcome the white owl.

A last note – on the front page of Oliver’s Owls and Other Fantasies, the white owl is featured on the cover.  I like to think of this as intentional, as to me, the white owl is symbolic of an appreciation of life and death, and demonstrates the power in seeking nature as a place of spirituality, all elements which Oliver wishes to capture in her writing.

Journal, Oct 31st Thinking like Thoreau

 

Thoreau – Journal 10/31/2023

A man gave up his college degrees and knowledge to transcend society and its materialistic and meaningless qualities, to seek out nature and its better experiences.  This was Thoreau, the focus of discussion in our Treks and Texts class on Tuesday Halloween.  He is an interesting man, who made a tiny minimalist cabin in a section of woods owned by Walden.  It wasn’t just a nature retreat, it was a time to empty his mind of society and really focus on himself as an independent individual.  It was far from the materialistic civilization from which he came, because he limited himself to the few items that he needed to survive.  A place alone in nature without much distraction or temptation was perfect for Thoreau, and it frankly sounds very pleasant to me, despite how different this lifestyle is from what I’m used to.  I would like to escape from staring at a screen 24/7, and from all of the cars and concrete in this modern civilization.  Getting back to our roots, back to nature, is important for people to be healthy, mindful, and grateful for the world we have.

Our activity was a scavenger hunt that sent us around the campus, finding locations that match things Thoreua said and felt.  One of his quotes was something along the lines of  “as the nation grows, so does its entities” and Thoreau criticizes their purpose.  We had to seek the college where this trade occurs, and we determined it was Neeley, as it discusses society and the population.  Another quote was “true utility of this thing is often blinded by the love of novelty and its fashionableness”, and we had to find a place of campus that had this piece.  We decided on the FAB building for its designer studies, which have the principle that people buy things like clothes because they seem fashionable and novel, even though clothes are just clothes!

Thoreau speaking poorly about the masses of people in a nation and the meaninglessness of commercial purchase made me think about the materialistic and collectivistic qualities of society, and it makes me uncomfortable.  Reading these quotes would be one thing, but engaging with these quotes as I walk outside in the cold (yet sunny) weather made me think deeper about it all.  It’s so easy to dive into the repetitive routine of everyday life, going to class and doing work and eating meals, but I find myself missing something greater, a meaningful and peaceful place in my life.  For Thoreau, it was nature where he found peace, meaningfulness, and a sense of self.  He was in the farthest place from the commercial and the materialistic, from the hordes of bustling people, where he could be mindful and tranquil.  However, is there a way for me, or for anyone in this modern world, to benefit from a similar practice to Thoreau’s?

I can’t well set down my academics and jobs to live in a cottage for some years.  I’m at a critical juncture in my career path, so risking it all so early in my life is not an option.  Perhaps I could visit a nature site for a day?  My family enjoys that sort of thing, and maybe we could even go for a week to Yellowstone or the Morton Arboretum.  The downside?  Firstly, such an experience would be short-lived, and Thoreau only saw powerful change in his life after devoting much more time to isolation in nature.  Secondly, locations designated as ‘nature’ find commercialism and civilization creeping into it from every angle, just like Abbey foresaw.  There are hordes of people visiting, gift shops and the like, and plenty of paved paths.  Nature is sheared and cleared until it looks like a prim and proper neighbor’s backyard, of which we have plenty back home.  Finally, there are mile markers and maps every five paces in each direction, as if a sensible man cannot enjoy his own way along a forest.

I should, however, look at the bigger picture in all of this.  I may be disheartened by my lack of accessibility to a true Thoreau experience, but I am familiar with how some office workers only live in two places, their cubicle and their city apartment.  I can imagine an employee in that concrete jungle only being able to find a glimpse of nature in a poster of a forest on his cubicle wall.  This is a rather unfortunate way to live, and I have more in my life than that.  If I so desire, I can go out and take a walk across TCU’s green campus, and set myself in the Veteran’s Plaza for some quiet time with the flowers and Monarch butterflies.  For this, at least, I am grateful.  Regardless, one day I still would like to feel that which Thoreau and Abbey and T. H. White got to feel when they found a completely isolated spot in nature.  Perhaps when I am much older and have the time.

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