I was trimming trees in front of the house a three days ago and accidentally drew the anger of a flock of Carib Grackles. A nest had fallen and they were protecting the nest - when I gently moved the branch holding the nest, the dive bombing began - and somewhere around 30-50 of the birds came from all around to protect those two nestlings. I was buzzed by the birds and decided that they weren't going to give up.

Since then, I get dive bombed and buzzed whenever I come out the house. No one else gets that sort of attention. There must be a picture of me somewhere, stuck to a tree, because they know me. A few sprays of hose and they've backed off over the days - but they definitely know me. Quite a testament to the longevity of the species.

Remember when humans were more like that?

While I was out and about yesterday, I encountered a man who had been cut on his hand by a piece of a falling brick at a construction site. He was grey with shock, holding his hand and staring at the wound in the way that someone does when they hate the sight of blood but are drawn to a particularly gruesome sight.

Next door, a Puja had just been performed and there were plenty of people wandering around. Seeing the man there, I walked across to take a look at the wound. It seems like a lifetime ago, but I was a Hospital Corpsman at one time. And an EMT. And a bit more, but suffice to say that I have had some training.

The wound was deep. It was obvious that it needed sutures, but it was also obvious that more permanent damage was likely given the depth and the nature of the injury. Falling pieces of brick, from a height of about 16 feet, gain a respectable amount of speed. Peering into the angled wound, it looked like some nerves might have been damaged - and perhaps even some tendons. Generally speaking, I knew that this should be seen by a doctor, and said so. The fellow wandered off, mumbling something about changing his clothes, while I sent someone to find some methylated spirits. I had bandages and so forth in the pickup, so I got those.

In cleaning the wound - superficially - I saw just how bad it was. It was only a few centimeters across - a sharp V torn out of the back of the right hand, 2 centimeters above the knuckle of the index finger, going down to a depth of about half of a centimeter, it seemed. Having him turn away, I checked his sensitivity and range of motion and found that (1) He couldn't feel his finger, and (2) he couldn't move his finger properly. This is, generally speaking, not good. I told him he needed to go see a Doctor.