NIGHTSHADE TEA: THE BRANCH QUESTION
Does this look “excitable” to you? Excitable is a state only day-dwellers experience.
NIGHTSHADE TEA: THE BRANCH QUESTION
By Kin Kajuu — Pollinator. Columnist. Problem.
I have been called "excitable."
I want to be clear about the creature who said this: he was a day-dweller, on the wrong branch, at the wrong hour, eating fruit that did not belong to him, who then had the additional confidence to offer me a character assessment before lumbering back to wherever it is day-dwellers go when the real world begins. I did not respond. I am above it. I have been above it for four days and I expect to remain above it for several more.
Some creatures experience the night as an absence of day. I experience it as the only time anything worth reporting actually happens. These are two different relationships with reality and I will not be explaining mine further to those who have chosen the inferior one.
There is news. There is always news. That is what the night is for.
THE BRANCH QUESTION
Word has come — through the whisper vine, east spiral, via a beetle whose discretion I have never had cause to question — that the Velt family is returning to the canopy after several seasons' absence.
You know the official account of their departure. I will not repeat it. I will say only that an account which has been passed through this many mouths acquires, over time, a certain smoothness — and that smoothness, in my experience, is not a sign of truth. It is a sign of handling. Polished things are polished because someone has been polishing them. I find the polish interesting. I find the question of who has been doing the polishing more interesting still.
What I will report is this: a branch cluster, east-facing, above the second whisper vine — good mist, exceptional acoustics, a location I know with some intimacy in my professional capacity — has been claimed. The claim is appropriate. The branch is excellent. The Scarf-Tail Brothers disagree.
The Scarf-Tail Brothers, whose ancestral territory continues to expand.
The Scarf-Tail Brothers, whose relationship to the canopy's territorial history is, at the most generous possible assessment, aspirational, have filed a formal objection on the grounds that the east-facing cluster falls within their ancestral glide path. This is the same ancestral glide path that has, at various points this season, encompassed the fig grove, the upper whisper vine, three quarters of Club Foliage's ceiling, and a squirrel's hammock — the squirrel in question has requested anonymity, which I am respecting, and which costs me nothing as I have already told you everything relevant.
The objection was delivered into the open air at full volume on Tuesday evening at ten past nine.
It has been received by the air.
(The branch, incidentally, was observed at dusk on Tuesday by a Tayra of my long acquaintance — Cipó, who has a history with the Velt family that the canopy knows and does not discuss and which I mention only because I was also at the whisper vine at that hour, professionally, and saw what I saw. I ate a fig. I moved on. There is nothing further to say about it.)
The always sleek and stylish Cipó.
THE FORMATION
To the matter of Gomphus and Lestes, which has developed since my last column in ways I feel obligated to report and, frankly, required to admire.
Gomphus: dragonfly, prime sunlit water patch, territorial standing of genuine consequence in the swarm's hierarchy. Lestes: damselfly of a certain age, rival water source, prior claim predating several current arrangements. Their entanglement has been reported in this column. The swarm's response has exceeded my initial projections.
A formation of disapproval has formed.
Eleven members. Modified chevron. Someone practiced. I do not know when — the territorial council has been in emergency session for three consecutive weeks following a procedural motion filed into the wrong body of water, which invalidated three months of deliberation and which I mention only because it is relevant and not at all because I find it deeply satisfying — but the hours were found, and the result is a piece of synchronized aerial censure that I will admit, privately and only once, is among the more technically accomplished things I have witnessed this season.
I attended L'Entomon this week expressly to observe the formation in context. The fireflies provided their usual bioluminescent atmosphere — that particular quality of light that makes everyone present appear to be the protagonist of something, which is either a gift or a significant misrepresentation depending on the individual. The formation arrived forty seconds after Gomphus and Lestes, held the chevron through the first hour, tightened it during the second, and by the third had introduced what I can only describe as a ceremonial pulse — rhythmic, synchronized, serving no tactical function I could identify and impossible to look away from.
Gomphus did not look at the formation once.
Lestes looked at it once.
Her expression: already knowing.
“Her expression: already knowing.”
BITE OF THE NIGHT
A fig
— located at the whisper vine while observing nothing in particular regarding Cipó, at dusk, on a branch adjacent to a reunion I was not watching. Texture: dense. Giving. A fraction past its moment. Flavor: dark fruit, warm bark, something underneath I identified and then decided not to identify. Rating: ✦✦✦✦ out of 5. I have had better figs. I have not had a fig I thought about more.
NIBBLE NOTE The Scarf-Tail Brothers' formal objection remains formally unreceived by any body with authority to receive it. Their volume has increased in inverse proportion to their audience. This is a pattern I have observed before in creatures who suspect they are losing.
NIGHT NOTES The parrots have been quiet for two weeks. I am not concerned. I am noting it here so that when I am later proved right about it I will have documentation.
Lady Skirrit was observed at the east-facing branch cluster at dawn on Wednesday. She did not stay. She did not touch anything. She looked at the branch the way she looks at everything: as though she has already made a decision and is waiting for the situation to catch up. Her plates caught the light briefly when she turned.
The chameleon appeared at Club Foliage this week in what I can only describe as a statement. He changed four times before midnight. I do not know what he is saying. I know he is saying it with conviction and I know it is directed at someone specific and I know that someone specific was also present and did not look at him once, which is either indifference or its precise opposite. He was not the same shade twice.
NEXT WEEK… The east-facing branch cluster will not be empty much longer. The canopy has been performing indifference about this for several weeks. The performance is about to become considerably more demanding.
I have a good branch. I have better fruit. I am, as always, ready.
You didn't hear it from me. (You absolutely did.)
— Kin Kajuu, Pollinator. Columnist. Problem.
