Although the category of “least concern” for extinction is applied to the pileated woodpecker, they are nevertheless astonishing birds. I’ve seen them a number of times and their large size can be breath-taking. Their bright red crests make them hard to miss, but many people rarely see them. I’ve noted before how our rotting wooden fence attracts carpenter bees, and therefore woodpeckers. Two years ago when I went outside to investigate a tapping—or was it a rapping?—I startled a pileated woodpecker on our fence and for a moment the two of us looked each other directly in the eye. I saw a dinosaur in that bird. What really stuck with me, though, was the connection between two beings who look into each other’s pupils. Scientists tend to tell us that we’re all nothing but atoms, but looking into any other creature’s eyes belies that.
When I’m out jogging I find that you can get fairly close to an animal if you don’t look it directly in the eye. When you make eye contact they take off. Scientists will use the ultimate fudge factor of “instinct” to explain this, but I think there’s more than that going on. If you doubt this, I have an experiment for you. Find someone you love and/or trust completely. Sit and intentionally stare into each other’s pupils. See how long your can hold that gaze. It’s difficult. We keep our secrets in our heads and we try to avoid eye contact with those with whom we’re not entirely comfortable. Even with those we love it’s tricky. We even have the phrase “eye contact.” Think about that. When we really look into another’s eyes, what is really going on? Is there any way to know?
We have all experienced the sensation of being stared at. It’s very real, despite what scientists tell us. In many cultures it’s understood to be rude to stare at someone. We are a profoundly visual species. We don’t ascribe the same intimacy to being listened to, for example (except at certain private times). We fairly easily shut out many sounds on a regular basis. Even though we’re social creatures, tasting, smelling, and touching others isn’t a normal part of the day for many of us. But we sure know when somebody looks at us unduly. And other creatures respond in similar ways. The other day I jogged very near a deer—almost close enough to touch—because its head was hidden behind a low branch full of leaves. We couldn’t see each other’s eyes and therefore it was unafraid. I still remember that woodpecker’s dinosaur eyes, and it flew off immediately after our eyes met.
