Around Christmas, I was talking with my great-granddaughter and told her about a blackbird that had come into the house and settled comfortably on the kitchen windowsill.
The bird watched me, watching her or him — until I left it to go outside, to get some gardening gloves; I thought I’d try to carry it out.
I could no longer see her, but heard her wings flapping, her beak trying to break the glass and loud, distressed squawking.
I said, “Come this way,” softly, three times.
And she flew towards me and out the sliding door. (My first attempt at bird whispering.)
I said to Willow, “There’s a lot we don’t know about our relationships with the birds and animals that share our planet.”
Willow said, “We know a lot about cats.”
She went on to tell me that her dog doesn’t care if she’s there or not — but the cat jumps on to her knee as soon as she sits down.
“She purrs and rubs her cheek against mine because she loves me,” Willow said.
“Cats are more emotional than dogs.” (Some experts might disagree.)
I told her that, many years ago, when we were relocating from Tatura to Shepp, we lost our cat.
One of our boys was holding him, but the window was half down.
When the traffic slowed to enter the city, he jumped out the window (the cat, not the boy).
Six or seven months later, he walked into a house he had never seen.
She asked me how many people were in the car.
The answer was five.
Then she went into a long and detailed explanation about how the cat found us.
She said, “He took with him the combined smell of the family — not five individual smells. He would walk until he got close to that combined smell, and then he’d run to you.”
Willow also explained that, when the cat got close enough, he would recognise each of us by our eyes.
“In our family, we have all got brown eyes, but each person is different,” she said.
“I’ve got a thin black line around the brown which you haven’t got.”
Willow is nine years old and a part of Generation Alpha.
She was quickly on to another topic about “a presentation I am giving at school”.
I had a memory of carrying her around the hospital when she was less than one day old.
I had put her head on my shoulder, but she was having none of that.
She lifted her head and stared at my face — for some time.
We checked one another out.
She was very interested in the sounds of the coffee shop.
Then she heard music, and her head was darting around to locate it.
After about 10 minutes she tired, put her head on my shoulder, and slept.
I wondered then about this alert generation — born 2010 to 2024, raised with screens and the internet.
The experts say they’ll drive changes in education and consumer trends.
They are fluent in technology and globally aware, but they could be poor communicators — perhaps Willow would debate that.
During COVID, Willow and I would chat online.
She was almost four years old.
One day, she was giving me a lesson, complete with blackboard, on shapes and how many sides they each had.
I asked her how many sides a circle had, and she said, hands on hips, “We are not doing circles today.”
The weather had been bad, but while we were playing, the sun had come out in Melbourne.
She told me that there were no germs in the back garden and she wanted to have a picnic.
Half an hour later, a photo arrived; it is my favourite, so I’m sharing it.
The children of millennials, this is the largest generation ever; if you have one of these young people in the family, they are certainly worth watching.
Are these the people who will change the world?
Dear God, I hope something does.
May it be easy, my friends.
Marnie
Email: towntalk@sheppnews.com.au
Phone: Text or call 0409 317187
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