Ornithology

by Matthew Tuckner





On Wellbutrin, I can never remember

if Alabama has two state birds or one.

When the fact returns, with the lightning

strike of synapse fire, I forget it instantly, again.

It is said that if you learn a fact in a swimming pool,

and forget that fact driving through Andalusia,

you have more of a chance of remembering

that fact if you find yourself, once again,

in a swimming pool. It has been said

that memory is like Santa’s sack: red,

retractable, and endless. There is a

swimming pool in Andalusia where the water is

blue like the treasures of a bowerbird, where juniper trees

fold themselves over their age-worn wounds. Some

juniper trees bend like a curved spine before

the time of death. On Wellbutrin, I try to remember

what the juniper tree turns into when it dies. Does it

send spores outward like a signal to alert others of the

unlistenable? I have to look at pictures to remind myself.

It is true that a tree can actually choke and die. This is called

girdling. It happens when animals and fungi eat at

the newest bark of a tree, disallowing the passage

of nutrients, stoppering up the xylem channels.

It is true that a tree grows a ring around the

fatal wound, to protect itself and the others

trees that surround it. In some ways, I have

built a ring around my wound to protect

the others that surround me. But my others

are human beings. The wound is blocked

from progression in all directions; crown-ward,

root-ward, sideways along the waist of my trunk.

If the wound was able to work its way up to the

crown of the juniper tree; if nature stopped its progress

for the sake of explanation, one would find the northern

flicker, the state bird of Alabama, pushing a laugh through

its beak: ki ki ki ki. On Wellbutrin, it can

often feel like you have sucked down a kaleidoscope

of butterflies. Swimming helps. The northern flicker

takes what it can get. They use ants as antacids. They rip

the wings off the european corn borer when bored.

I ink its wingspan on the outer-capsule of my pills,

making my mark, splitting the powder in half

to lessen the side effects. I bring on the worse

bout of lepidopterism I have yet had. I relish

in the diseases of caterpillars and moths. Sometimes

it is called moth dermatitis. It is not so different from

depression: a wish to be both closer and to become

a flying thing. An eagle will drop a tortoise from

hundreds of feet in the air, using a rock to get at

what’s inside. This is how Aeschylus died. His

bald head reminded the eagle of something

it hated about itself. I drive away from nature.

I can remember the names of bald eagles

given names by families of fallen soldiers.

When I look in the sky, when I see a bald eagle in

Andalusia, I say “Greetings, Glory!” I shout

“Salutations, Volunteer,” not knowing who I’m

looking at or who I’m talking to. I know what

a bald eagle is but I can only seldom remember the name

of the state bird of Alabama. I whisper its many names to myself

as I crawl across the country at an emotionally

balanced, well-regulated pace. I place prayers for

myself and those above me: the yellow hammer, the

clape, the gaffer woodpecker, the Harry-wicket, the heigh ho,

the wake-up, the walk-up, the wick-up, the yarrup, and the

gawker bird. Wellbutrin SR is also known by its chemical name,

Bupropion or by a vast assortment of brand names: Budeprion,

AplenzinZyban (as a smoking cessation aid),

Buproban, and Forfivo XL. My medicine bag is

as deep as Santa’s sack. I often wonder if Santa

ever gets stuck in trees; juniper trees, to be exact. Do

his reindeer ever break their legs from overwork? Do

they crack open their bodies against the highest reaching

branches? What would Santa look like, all blood-red

in Red Bay, Alabama? I begin to cry, driving through

a layer of gauze. I am often disabused of this thinking

by concerned professionals. I am told to focus on my passion

for ornithology. Which reminds me, Alabama

has another state bird: the wild turkey. Turkeys

have excellent vision, their heads can change colors

within seconds, and often belying their own underestimation,

find themselves in flight.





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