Although focused primarily on separating humans from nonhuman nature, Etcoff also notes that at least one animal “exhibits a form of dressing” (6): the bowerbird which builds and decorates a bower to attract a mate. Etcoff’s admission in some ways contradicts her assertion that the adornments of dress are uniquely human. It also broaches questions that may connect our evolutionary paths more explicitly to those of the animal world: Are there other species of animals that use ornaments outside their bodies for decoration or disguise? And do these examples begin to redefine our own connections to the natural world and evolution? Do they also reshape the purpose behind the changes we make to our bodies and selves? 

For us, the body modifications explored in American Mary do not separate humans from nature. They demonstrate all too well our connections to it. The multiple species of the male bowerbird, for example, build bowers consisting “of a thatched twig tunnel forming an avenue” decorated with bones, shells, berries, nuts, and stones the male displays to potential mates. They arrange the objects in regular patterns, creating an illusion that seems to increase their size, according to biologists Laura Kelley and John Endler. The bowers are works of art meant only for seducing female bowerbirds, not for nesting and clearly require objects external to the birds to build them. David Attenborough’s documentary, Bowerbirds: The Art of Seduction (2012) highlights the behaviors of multiple species of bowerbirds and demonstrates how deliberately the birds place their artifacts. In one scene, for example, Attenborough moves objects, and a male bowerbird immediately replaces it. 

 Other animals decorate their bodies rather than create external bowers. Sandhill Cranes preen their feathers with mud, turning their gray bodies red or brown during spring and summer. The purpose behind the preening may be related to breeding because it ends when the feathers molt in the fall. And the looper caterpillar ornaments its body with plant parts from the flowers on which it is feeding. According to Dr. Miklos Treiber, the loopers change the flower parts when they move to another flower, as well. Here the plant pieces act as camouflage. Dr. Treibe hypothesized that the looper’s ability to change disguises allows it to have a much more varied diet than some other caterpillars because it isn’t restricted to eating only those flowers or plant parts that it resembles in appearance. Multiple videos document the looper’s amazing camouflage.

Places I Probably Slept Part II

On raked green carpet 

in my best friend’s rec room 

after singing 

“Up against the Wall” 

 against a wall

in the backyard 

where one time 

a neighbor and I 

convinced my brother

to strip inside a tent 

to streak around the cul-de-sac

in a pup tent under a tree 

raccoons breaking into a backpack 

stealing bites of pepperoni 

from a side pocket

on a folding cushioned chair 

just small enough 

to fit in my Escort Hatchback

in too many beds 

 after watching model trains 

swirl around a bar

after listening to airplanes 

 land near a restaurant

after ripping off a beltloop 

to get rid of that lock you latched

on the couch where back cushions 

hug me to sleep

on a Blue Sky Motel mattress 

being eaten from the inside by mice.

Places I Probably Slept

I too have slept in many places 

on beds I chose 

or were chosen for me 

 as an infant in a wooden crib 

 perched beside a white wall 

 finger-painting from a diaper 

 as a toddler on a double 

 where my sister tricked me 

 into making the bed 

 a game hiding 

under the sheets

talking in my sleep 

 laughing pigs have no tails 

on a Quaker frame 

slats smashing to the ground 

 as I rolled on my side 

 scaring my brother 

 throwing his stuffed animal 

across the room

in a low-ceilinged attic 

pulling blankets up 

around my neck 

to ward off Barnabas Collins 

 from Dark Shadows

American Mary and the Nature of Change

 

At a turning point in the contemporary feminist “Frankenstein” film American Mary, Ruby (Paula Lindberg)—one of Mary’s future body modification clients—explains why she wants to change her appearance: “I don’t think it’s really fair that God gets to choose what we look like on the outside,” she proclaims. Ruby’s declaration at first seems to align well with scholars’ assertions that humans decorate and modify their bodies to separate themselves from the animals and nature, for, as genetic researcher Gillian M. Morriss-Kay argues, “Creating visual art is one of the defining characteristics of the human species.” Morriss-Kay agrees, suggesting, “The earliest known evidence of ‘artistic behaviour’ [sic] is of human body decoration, including skin colouring [sic] with ochre and the use of beads, although both may have had functional origins.”

 

Ruby’s desire to determine what her body looks like on the outside seems to take this characteristic just a little further, since, as anthropologist Enid Schildkrout of the Smithsonian states, “there is no logical reason to separate permanent forms of body art, like tattoos, scarification, piercing, or plastic surgery, from temporary forms, such as makeup, clothing, or hairstyles.” More extreme forms of body modification convey information about a person’s identity in ways similar to the more traditional and temporary choices people make to color their hair and shave their faces.

 

For Ruby, a fashion designer and owner of Ruby Real Girl designs, surgically changing her body provides some of the same results as fashion and makeup, except that those changes are more permanent. It seems to separate her from her natural “God-given” form and from the natural world it represents and inhabits. The claim is that animals change their appearance only because evolution has determined those changes ensure survival, both physical and sexual. And those changes rely on internal biological responses rather than deliberate additions from the external environment. A cuttlefish may change the color and shape of its skin and body to hide from predators, hypnotize prey, and seduce potential sex partners, but these survival adaptations are evolutionary rather than learned behaviors and draw on biology rather than the incorporation of external objects.

 

Yet we argue that this separation between humans and animals rests on a limited perspective of the natural world. Although the body modification illustrated in American Mary may amplify the drive for individuality found in makeup and hair changes, it does not necessarily separate humans from animals. Instead, it replicates the behaviors of animals from the bowerbird to particular species of spiders and caterpillars. When characters in American Mary modify their bodies to express their individuality and survive, they don’t separate themselves from nature; instead they align themselves with the animal world. When either animals or humans change their appearance, they gain an evolutionary advantage that assures their reproductive and biological persistence.

 

Enough

 

“You don’t have to believe in God. 

You just need to believe that you are not God.” 

Now that is a quote I can get my arms around. 

Although I do believe in God,

I definitely do not believe I am God. 

I do not believe I am God-like. 

In fact, I believe we are all equals,

 including those animals and plants outside my window.

That doesn’t mean we are the same. 

It just means we all have an equal right to life 

Rain and wind blew over Resurrection Lilies today, 

surprises more like amaryllis than lily 

leaning into grass on broad brittle stems 

like salmon bones breaking under teeth.

I know about those salmon bones 

because my father loved salmon loaf and salmon cakes, 

meals built from a can of pink and brown  

reaching “enough” with bread or flour and egg.

Joy

With joy I welcomed the rain last night, 11/2 inches of watering I won’t have to do to keep my flowers and vegetables growing. I may have broken a few purple cone flowers, but now they decorate my kitchen table, adding life to the piles of newspapers I must remember to place in the recycling bin tomorrow. 

My little life is full of beauty like that, from a dog’s smile to a squash plant’s flowers. To these colors and textures, I’ll add the songs of crickets and frogs outside my window.

What brings me joy? Right now, my joy seems limited to my garden, my dog walks, and my brief escapes with Joe. 

So let’s get specific… 

Watching: 

• bees feeding on my purple cone flowers, 
• a swallowtail butterfly laying eggs on a spice bush and pollinating a butterfly bush, 
• beans (lots of beans) climbing up a fence, 
• tomatoes turning red on the vine, 
• a volunteer squash or pumpkin plant (not sure which) thriving in a pepper bed, 
• cucumbers filling with water and ballooning into fruit, 
• zucchini edging into a yard, hummingbirds and orioles drinking from a feeder… Okay, there are many more joyful moments than I thought.

Butterflies arrived today, floating between feeding and nesting as I watch through a glass door and nearly smile when really what I want to do is cry.

 

Not Yet

 

When should I say “not yet” instead of “no?” 

When asked if I’m retired, of course, or if I met my goals, then “not yet” sounds like a typical and acceptable response. 

But how about when asked absurd and sometimes rude questions like do you have any children? 

• Have you remarried? 
• Are you in love? 

Yes, I think “not yet” works just fine here, even if I am post-menopausal, long-time divorced, and introverted. But I don’t think the answer needs to be personalized. 

I think we can answer “not yet” as a more hopeful response than “no” to question like these: Can we overcome racism? 

• Is it possible to solve the repercussions of climate change? 
• Can we live in peace? 
• Of course, we might need to answer “not yet” when those kids in the back seat ask, for the fiftieth time, if we’re there yet, too.