Finches at Parade Ground

The AYSO coach used the word 'field' in a way that means to recruit players for teams. There was concern this weekends games would be canceled because they were having trouble fielding players. Well, I got out of bed damn early Sunday morning to field my daughter. So early I thought perhaps I was a farmer, up early doing work even before breakfast. Unfortunately there was no farm wife at home preparing plates of eggs and grits for us. Nothing piled high with toast.

The birds, above, were spectators at the game. That's why I love Brooklyn. I don' think I would find people bringing their caged birds to the soccer league in any suburb. This Brazilian Finch was singing its little head off, hopping all over it's cage. Meanwhile, it's pal, an immature American finch hanging out in the cage next to him, was quiet and still. I asked their owner what kind of birds they were. I thought I heard him say Flinches. I have trouble understanding people here in Brooklyn, you would have to be a polyglot not to, and a polyglot I am not.

Flinches?
Yes, Flinches.
Flinches? Finches?
Yes, Finches.

So odd to see birds in cages on the periphery of an enormous field, even if one of the cages was an attractive one with many wooden perches that gave it a cabana feel. Caged birds seem side-lined in so many ways, so hooking cages to the fence at the ball park is very evocative. You feel sad for birds, but also happy that they'll be safe in there. Similar to watching the kids on the field, each game a large cage they've happily climbed into to enjoy the structure provided. To appreciate the graceful way all the parts fit together. Without the structures the open field can be very scary. Later that day my friend was talking about another friend's house cats, how they take them to Prospect Park and let them out of their cages and they creep around in terror. It's fun to know the rules, stressful when they change.

Interesting but not surprising that the Brazilian finch, hopping non-stop in its cage, was so much more musical, energetic and colorful than the American finch. Makes me think of Black Orpheus and how Lourdes de Oliveira played the frenetic Mira. One day last year I was somehow able to pretend I was in Brazil all day, by what powers of delusion I know not. I had recently been to last year's NYC Os Mutantes concert, and I couldn't believe how good they sounded and how happy they seemed. It was such a joy that it hurt when it ended. Maybe at times Brooklyn can become that thing that we are loving when we talk about Brazil, that Tropicalia thing.... that gesturaly generous, colorful, equatorial, we're happy we're alive and beautiful, carnival...thing....or maybe for a second we might feel that Berlin thing, or maybe, maybe? you find a tiny ambiguous space along the Gowanus and remember Venice.

Eu quis cantar, Minha cancao iluminada de sol...