Vilcabamba: Cockrells

A town near the Ecuador - Peru border. 5am. Lots of cockrells.



      "I´m virile!"


                                                                                                                 "I´m virile!!"


                                           "He´s not virile, I am!"


                 "I´m more virile than them!"


                                                                                "Don´t make laugh Dave, you chicks always come out with heads like roast potatoes!"
   
                "You racist cunt! Thats cos of my breed that is!"

                                                                                           "Jesus boys, calm down. Cyrill, what on earth you doing playing the race card at this stage? We´ve got a good couple of hours squawking to fill yet. You gotta build up to that kind of stuff, doesn´t leave you anywhere to go after otherwise. Seriously, how long you been in this game? Terry, you were saying?"

                    "I´m virile!"

                                                                                                                  "No he´s not. I´m virile!"

        "I´m more virile!"     

                                                                                             "I´m the virilest!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                "Its ´most virile `dickhead."

                                                                                             "Alright smartarse, why don´t you just stick to your own squawking?

                                                                                                         "I´m just saying, your inept grasp of basic grammatical structures is hardly any endorsement of your virility is it?"

                                                                                            "Nor`s your mum."

                                                              "No, sorry Ray, he´s got a point there. It encapslates a sort of pathetic irony to all this doesn´t it? Here we are, all trying to squawk the loudest about our virility - who´s going to be impressed by that? If this is the best we´ve got, it doesn´t much bode well for the survival of the species does it?"
  
    "Gotta stop you there Joe, are we not a sub-species?"

                                                                                                        "I dunno, all sounds a bit high and mighty to me. Think I´ll just stick to the squawking if its all the same by you...I´m virile!"

                                                              "Wait! Just listen a minute. Its, its a question of dignity. Times are changing - other birds are developing elaborate courtship dances and other rituals. That´s culture that is..."

                                            "So what´s your point Joe? You´re putting us all off our squawking!"

                                                              "But thats it! Don´t you see?? Everyone else is evolving and we´re just sitting around squawking out the same 3 fucking words!"

                                                                                                         "I squawked 5 the other day."

                                                              "Oh, well that´s progress isn´t it! Fuck´s sake boys, can´t we at least try to evolve a little bit?"

                                           "I´m still not buyig it Joe. If God had wanted us to evolve he´d have given us opposable thumbs. Best to just accept one`s station in life."

    "Yeah, stick to what we´re good at. C´mon fellas, we´re well behind schedule here. I´m virile!"

                                                                                                                                                                            "No, I´m virile!"

                                                                                                  "He´s not virile I am!"

                                                              "No, no, no! Just listen to yourselves! Its the same,  every god dam day its the same. Ahmed, you´ve got a lovely voice - why do´t you use it a bit more? Try some different melodies? Vary it up a bit? You could even help us with our squawks a bit? There must be some breathing techniques or something you can teach us? And Colin, you come out with some great original squawks from time to time. Why don´t you do that a bit more, experiment a bit? You know: metaphory, allegory - stuff like that? We never try to develop, that´s our problem. Imagine if we could get the chicks on some of this stuff early. Imagine the progress in just a few generations! We just need to put together some systems to develop skills and pass them on. Can you see it now brothers??"


                                        "I have the best voice - I´m the most virile!"

                     "I´m a unique thinker - I´m the most virle!"

                                                 "I think one of my claws is a bit opposable, I´m the most virile!"



 Joe (to himself): How did it come to this? What have we done for history to forsake us? All the other birds are beyond us. Even the sparrows, dumb bastards. Even they swoop down, steal our food and make jokes about our hairy feet and fleshy necks. Will we ever know what it is to swoop? Nay to soare! But our wings are clipped and useless. But wait! Who´s been clipping our wings? Who decides when we eat? When we get let near the females? Its all so familiar, so comfortable almost. Its ingrained in us. Bred into us! We squawk away and call it identity, but its all bullshit! We do not possess a culture, it possesses us! Man has done this to us! Squawking is just a small pleasure tolerated to keep the wool over eyes!

                                                              "Brothers! Brothers! Lend me your....your auditory canales! If you listen to me but once more in your lives, then listen now!....

                                                 ...Are we not birds? Yet we cannot fly. We have the run of the coup. But can run no further. Man has domesticated us! He dictates our every move and denies us the right to develop. Denies us everything but the daily squawk. And in so tolerating only the most primitive expression of our identity, he keeps us that way -primitive. Primitive and incapable of developing to break free from his domestic servitude! Cockrells, I ask you: why do we continue to squawk??"

                                                                                                       
                                                                                                     "Hen´s seem to like it."




Un pueblo cerca de la frontera entre Ecuador y Peru. 5 de la manana. Muchos Gallos.

   ¨Yo soy viril!¨

                                             ¨Yo soy viril!¨

                                                                                                                    El no es viril. Yo soy viril!¨

                ¨Soy mas viril que ellos!¨

                                     ¨No me hagas reir David! Tus pollitos siempre salen con cabezas como patatas asadas.¨

                ¨Coñazo racista! Eso se debe a mi casta!¨

                                                                                                                             Chicos, chicos calmoas! Cedric - que cosa mas tonta sacar el tema de raza a esta etapa! No te dejas nigun camino para continuar la discusión y todavía nos quedan por lo menos 2 horas mas para graznar. Todavía eres novato o que? Siga Pedro.

                ¨Soy viril!¨

                                                                                                             ¨Soy mas viril que el!¨

                                                                           ¨Hay alguien que es mas viril que yo?¨

                                                                                         ¨Seria ´sea mas viril´ gilipollas.¨

                                                                           ¨Muy bien sabelotodo, poque no te fija en tu propio graznar?

                                                                                         ¨Solo digo que tu inadequado conocimiento de gramatica basica no dice mucho buena de tu virilidad.¨

                                                                            ¨Tu madre tampoco.¨

                                    ¨Perdoname Kiko, pero el tiene razón. Se encapsula un tipo de ironía poética de todo esto. Aqui estamos, cada uno intentando graznar mas fuerte que el es el mas viril. Como impresionaremos alguien así? Si no tenemos nada mejor para decir, no se da buenas indicaciónes que nuestra especie sobreviva.¨

                                                                                                                 ¨Disculpa José, pero no somos una sub-especie?¨

                                                                ¨Yo no sé. Suena un poco fatúo a mi. Si no importa, yo voy a continuar graznar tal como siempre...Soy viril!¨

                                    ¨Espera! Escuchadmé! Es, es cuestión de dignidad. Las tiempos estan cambiandose. Otros avés estan desarollando bailes de corteja y otros rituales progresivos. Esto se llama cultura!¨

    ¨Entonces, que quieres decir José? Nos estas destrayendo de graznar!¨

                                    ¨Pero así es! Exactamente. No lo ves? Todo el mundo esta evolucionando y estamos plantados aquí, graznando las mismas tres palabras!¨

                                                                                    ¨Yo grazné cinco el otro dia.¨

                                    ¨Oh, bueno, eso progreso entonces! Por amor de diós chicos, no podemos intentar evolucionar solo un poquito?¨

                                                            ¨No estoy convencido. Si diós nos hubiera querido evolucionar no habría dado pulgares oposables. Mejor aceptar la situación.¨

         Si, a los vuestros! Venga muchachos, estamos muy retrasados ya - Soy viril!!¨

                                    ¨No, no, no! Escuchaos a vosotros mismos! Es igual, cada puto dia igual!  Ahmed, tienes una voz regia, porque no la usas mas. Que experimentes! Pruebes melodias diferentes! Y tal vez puedes ayudarnos con nuestros graznos? Tiene que existir algunas tecnicas de respirar que nos puedas enseñar? Y Carlitos, tu has inventado unos graznos muy originales. Si tienes esta habilidad, porque no la desarollas - intenta nuevas cosas - metáforo, alegoría, cosas así? Imaginaos si tuvieramos instituciónes para desarollar nuestra habilidades? Y si las enseñaramos a los pollitos? Imaginaos el progreso en solo unas generaciónes! Lo veis ahora hermanos?¨

                                                                                                 ¨Tengo la mejor voz, soy el mas viril¨

              ¨Soy poeta, yo sol el mas viril!¨

                                                     ¨Creo que una de mis garras es oposable. Soy el mas viril!¨


Jose (a si mismo): Como hemos llegado a ser así? Como hemos merecido que la historia nos haya abandonado? Todos los avés estan encima de nosotros. Aún los gorriónes, capullos estupidos. Aún se cayen en picado hacia nosotros para robar nuestra semilla y insultar a nuestra garras lanosas y pescuezos rojos. Un dia sabremos como es caer en picado? O sea, remontarse?? Pero no. Nuestras alas son cortados y inutíles...Y, y quién las ha cortado?! Quién decide cuando comemos, o cuando podemos acercarnos a las gallenas?! Quién no mantiene así sin nada para animarnos sino graznar diariamente! Es tan familiar, tan comfortable casi. Es parte de nosotros. Somos criado así! Graznamos, y esto llamamos identidad. Pero es todo mierda! No poseemos una cultura, la cultura nos posee! El hombre nos ha hecho esto! Y tolera que graznemos solo para que seguimos ciegos!

                                           ¨Hermanos! Hermanos! Prestadmé vuestra...vuestra canales auditorios! Si me escuchais solo una vez mas, escuchadmé ahora!......
....No somos avés? Pero no podemos volar. Recorremos el gallinero, pero no mas lejos. El hombre nos ha domesticado! Restringue nuestra libertad! Nuestra derecho para elegir una indentidad propia! Restringue todo salvo el grazno matinal! Tolerar esto es tolerar solo la expresión mas primitiva de nuestra identidad. El nos mantiene primitivos. El impide que desarollemos por miedo que nos arrancaríamos de las cadenas de servitud domestica!
Gallos! Os pregunto, porque seguimos graznar?¨



                              ¨Parece que a las gallenas les gusta.¨