April 25, 2010 – Interracial Avian Love, Austin, TX

Americans are constantly inquiring about our Canadian health care system. Their inquiries are honest. They seem genuinely earnest to learn — during the Obama era — how a bunch of foreigners from north of the 49th can organize prostate examinations and pap smears, gratis. But after a few campground round-picnic-table discussions the subject becomes a little stale. We try to explain that our wait lists and high taxes are more than a fair trade-off for easy access, free medical care.

But it has all become a little disconcerting. The other morning I asked the fellow in the next stall to pass me some toilet paper. He recognized my accent and refused to hand over a few sheets of ass-wipe until I outlined the difference between universal health care and socialized medicine.

Fortunately when discussing healthcare it is rather easy to change the subject — provided there are at least two Americans present. Just earnestly ask each of them “how are your knees?” and while they ramble on about their torn menisci and inadequate drug plans, you can ramble on back to the trailer and pour yourself some med’cine.

It is curious how serious debate quickly deteriorates into boring chatter the moment objectivity is displaced by subjectivity. Enough about that.

We were enjoying a lovely day in Bastrop State Park, outside Austin in southeast Texas. The Park is named after Felipe Enrique Neri, Baron de Bastrop, a hero of the Republic of Texas. He was an important man, primarily due to the length of his name. It was a lovely day. The beach was filled with cavorting, happy campers.

Then we saw them, swimming casually together in the lake. At first I averted my eyes. But their brazen attitude made aversion impossible. They splashed about in the water, oblivious, with complete disregard for discretion, the decent morals of proper society.

She was pure white. He was dark, with a gaudy green head ornament. Why were they together? The Baron would have shuddered, his feathers ruffled.

I stomped up the beach and requested an explanation from the side-armed State Park Police patrolwoman.

“Do you have any idea why a male mallard and a white domestic would be out there in the lake together?” I asked. “Maybe they’re lonely” was her lame (duck) reply.

Travelling opens one’s eyes to the perspective that those in love — regardless apparently even of feather color — see only each other while the spectator jeers and condemns.

I have to say that the Texas State park staff’s level of knowledge has been largely disappointing, as have their responses to my intelligent and well-informed Canadian inquiries. The same young woman to whom I directed my concerns respecting the duck conundrum looked at me — in what I can only describe as a sympathetic but unmoved manner — when I made a bona fide inquiry into the mating habits of the endangered Houston Beatle, whose breeding range is restricted to a few streams around Bastrop.

“Why don’t they do it on the road?” I asked earnestly.

She looked at me uncertainly before replying in a response typical of Texans, “I sure… don’t know.”

Gerry & Florence