I like the ascetic of wings, even more because I know how they work. I am an airplane/rocket/space geek – one of the great pleasures of my college years was to read “Aviation News and Space Technology” at the university library (subscription price was way above my head).
I am a long-term member of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and if I lived anywhere near D.C. I would probably be almost living there. I mean they’ve got the “spare” Skylab, the Spirit of St. Louis and the command module Columbia from Apollo 11.
So back to wings. They are such wonderful evolutionary engineering – may well have started with a bit of webbing between front toes. Modern birds are the descendants of the flying dinosaurs of millions of years ago. So yeah, fried chicken is kind of sort of fried dinosaur – give or take 20 million years or so.
Some of my winged things stand on two legs, some on four and some on none at all, being pure creatures of air and space. Some fly but don’t have what one would consider wings at all. The details don’t matter – it doesn’t take anything more than imagination in order to fly. That’s the nice thing about it in my world.
How airfoils work is really interesting. You can do a lot with a simple curved surface moving at the right speed. Very simple – the air flowing over the curved top of the wing travels slower and with less force than the air flowing under the wing. Eventually the upward force under the wing is strong enough to lift the aircraft off of the ground. Works with water too – hydrofoils.
Animal wings are not at all like that – it’s pure muscle energy to get going but once they get going, its real wind surfing from there on. Watching an eagle or falcon or hawk sail seemingly forever without a wing flap is mesmerizing.
Flight as a Literary Subject
A song by the late Texas singer-song writer-guitar builder Guy Clark, inspired by a childhood friend of his wife Susanna. One of my all time favorites from a man who was IMHO a great storyteller. I recommend watching and/or reading Guy Clark’s biography “Without Getting Killed or Caught” for the story of a true legend of Texas music.
Eight years old with a floursack cape tied all around his neck
He climbed up on the garage, figurin’ what the heck
He screwed his courage up so tight the whole thing came unwound
He got a runnin’ start and bless his heart, he headed for the ground.
He’s one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms, hold your breath
And always trust your cape.
All grown up with a floursack cape tied around his dreams
He’s full of piss and vinegar and bustin’ at the seams.
He licked his finger and checked the wind – it was gonna be do or die.
He wasn’t scared of nothin’ boys, he was pretty sure he could fly.
He’s one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms, hold your breath
And always trust your cape.
Old and grey with a floursack cape tied all around his head
He’s still jumping off the garage, and will be ’till he’s dead
All this time they’ve been telling him he’s acting like a kid
He did not know he could not fly
So he did.
He’s one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms, hold your breath
And always trust your cape.
How To Fly by Douglas Adams
I consider the late Douglas Adams to have been one of the finest comedic minds of the late 20th Century. If you have not read the entire Hitch-Hikers Guide To the Galaxy series – do so forthwith – I’ll wait.
If you can obtain recordings of the original BBC radio series, by all means do so before the Vogons demolish Earth for yet another useless interstellar bypass.
I have two HHGTTG books autographed by him and they are in a special vault in an undisclosed location so they may survive the upcoming robot/zombie/plague apocalypse.
I also exposed my child to HHGTTG by reading to it her week after week over a years time. I think she may have forgiven me by now, but she gets some of my more obtuse jokes, so it’s worth it.
There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, [The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy] suggests, and try it.
The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it’s going to hurt.
That is, it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
Clearly, it is the second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.
One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It’s no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won’t. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you’re halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss it.
It is notoriously difficult to prize your attention away from these three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most people’s failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating and spectacular sport.
If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles, pseudopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.
This is a moment for superb and delicate concentration. Bob and float, float and bob. Ignore all consideration of your own weight simply let yourself waft higher. Do not listen to what anybody says to you at this point because they are unlikely to say anything helpful. They are most likely to say something along the lines of “Good God, you can’t possibly be flying!” It is vitally important not to believe them or they will suddenly be right.
Waft higher and higher. Try a few swoops, gentle ones at first, then drift above the treetops breathing regularly.
DO NOT WAVE AT ANYBODY.
When you have done this a few times you will find the moment of distraction rapidly easier and easier to achieve.
You will then learn all sorts of things about how to control your flight, your speed, your maneuverability, and the trick usually lies in not thinking too hard about whatever you want to do, but just allowing it to happen as if it were going to anyway.
You will also learn about how to land properly, which is something you will almost certainly screw up, and screw up badly, on your first attempt.
There are private clubs you can join which help you achieve the all-important moment of distraction. They hire people with surprising bodies or opinions to leap out from behind bushes and exhibit and/or explain them at the critical moments. Few genuine hitchhikers will be able to afford to join these clubs, but some may be able to get temporary employment at them.
Shouter to Dead Parrots 