night, from underneath pale wooden support beams, looking out into a foggy parking lot with a red neon sign. the image is distorted by VCR static. text reads:
[011] THE PASSENGER PIGEON. A CALLER COMMEMORATES A BYGONE BIRD. THE HOST LEARNS SOME NEW LINGO.
listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:
[static, radio tuning]
[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]
[click]
Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,
and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.
[Thin Places theme]
I’m coming to you live from my studio, which is what i like to call the backseat of my car! Again!
[gas pump clicking and beeping] [trucks screeching, groaning, and hissing]
I pulled off the road into this truck stop when the orange lights overhead started to burn their mark into my retinas. Just a second to myself, now, in my own private little universe.
I’ve pushed the detritus on the seats into the well. The center console is my desk. The rat has received an upgrade - she gets to be in the driver’s seat, tonight.
I don’t think I’m going to sleep. I might just watch the sun rise from the picnic table I parked next to around back. Not just because the backseat is so lumpy, or because I’m too nervous to close my eyes alone here. It’s a very alive place. I can feel the hum of it all around me - truckers headed in to take a shower, stopping to get diesel before the next leg of their journey, a college junior headed back after a long weekend who did the safe thing and pulled over here, saving their own life without even knowing it.
[cars passing]
I know this about all of them, even though I don’t talk to them. But who knows what pulled me off the road here? I don’t recognize this place, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been here before.
[car door opening, then slamming closed]
What is Thin Places Radio? Well, you can call in about anything strange that you've got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings.
Are you having trouble getting out and about? Are you holding an extinct species in your heart so at least one person remembers them? Are you trapped in the present, but can’t stop thinking about the future and the past?
Call in, get it off your chest. Let's close the gap between worlds a little bit more. Lines are open.
[click] [voicemail]
Hi! I wanted to know if you know anything about the passenger pigeon. It’s a bird that, uh - it’s one of my favorite birds, actually, but it’s extinct now. The last of its species died in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914. I’m thinking about it because I'm at a rest stop in the middle of God knows where Wisconsin and there's a placard dedicated to such bird. They cite a lot of - they don’t name anything specific as to why it went extinct. But having done my own research I know it was an incredibly social bird, and they had huge flocks of them that would travel around the entire United States. And apparently at this rest stop this was the nearby one of their largest nesting areas, according to the placard.
I just wonder if one day, one other species, or people, will be relegated to being remembered by a placard - if people even know that this bird exists unless they stop at this rest stop themselves. Or if I, a person very interested in these type and other kind of birds, will be the one to remember them once everything is said and done. Sorry it’s a little sad, but I wanted to know what ya think. This is Remy. You can name me as such on the show. Thanks.
Hi from the middle of God knows where Wisconsin, Remy. Don’t worry. I like a little sad. I can feel it in my bones, sometimes.
[crickets chirping]
If a tree falls in a forest - no, I’ve said that before. We know the answer to the riddle. What we don’t know is when one person’s efforts - one person’s memory - is really enough. It never feels like it. But you’re doing something important here. You’re doing something vital, remembering the ghost of an entire civilization, risen and fallen.
[searching music]
We think we have evidence for it, when it comes to us, ruins and archaeology. But the most important things are the ones that we pass down, person to person, for everyone who didn’t get a museum, or a ruin, or even a placard. It’s only been a century, and all trace of this pigeon is already gone. It’s not like Tartessian, the last word spoken in the 5th century B.C., the few letters that remain still untranslateable. It’s only been a hundred years. But we forget much more terrible things much quicker than that - but only if we choose to forget them. So, we can’t. We have to remember the people who came before us, the people who left and the people who were killed on purpose, and the people who survived, who are still here. We have to remember the little things, too, the small creatures. There’s a special providence in the fall of a passenger pigeon.
How must that last one have felt, in the Cincinnati Zoo? The last of its kind. Caged and alone and told where to go next. Transformed, by its sudden distance from everyone else, into something different. Something different. Maybe it didn’t even know. I hope it didn’t. It would hurt less.
[click] [cars passing]
Something weird, listeners:
Trucker lingo. It sounds made up, but linguistically speaking, it’s as real as anything. I just heard someone say his truck was wipin’ her feet on the way up here, and I think that must be something. Got your ears on? Here’s some more. The granny lane - oh, i can guess that one just fine. Southbound hammer down - going south and going fast. An alligator’s a tire on the road. A black eye’s a headlight out. I think bear bait means going too fast. Not the other kind of bear. There’s lots of stupid names for cops, thank goodness: barney fife, evel knievel, kojak with a kodak. Enough of that, though. 10-7.
[click] [bell dinging] [car starting]
The bell to the convenience store door dings, as one of the truckers is coming back out with his coffee. He’s flying solo, but he isn’t alone. He has a whole flock, one chirp of the radio away.
I can see the sky getting brighter, as much as it ever does, that very first pale purple. [yawn] [sniff] It looks like I’m having shutter trouble after all.
[click]
Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do.
As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That's 717.382.8093.
Keep the rubber side down and the bugs off your glass. Until next time. I'll be -
[sudden static cuts the host off]
[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: ]
Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of Your Host is Kristen O’Neal. Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Remy Ripple.
Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Umeed by RANA.
If you have a story to tell or a question to ask, give us a call at (717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.
[Thin Places Theme outro]
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On September 1, 1914, Martha, the last-known living Passenger Pigeon (Ectopistes migratorius) died at the Cincinnati Zoo. Her death at age 29 after a lifetime in captivity marked the disappearance of her once-abundant species from the world. And it made her name synonymous with species extinction at human hands. But what happened?
Before the second half of the nineteenth century, the Passenger Pigeon was the most common bird in the United States, with a population numbering in the billions. Flocks of pigeons flying overhead were so dense that they could darken the skies. But a combination of overhunting and habitat destruction sent this species into decline, and by the turn of the century, it was considered extinct in the wild.
Photo: Enno Meyer, CC0 1.0, Wikimedia Commons
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🧵 Passenger Pigeon - Extinct | tip | comms
I finally finished this pigeon!
None other than the passenger pigeon I originally made in May, 2021. I reworked the original pixels and set out to stitching. This design has 3,106 stitches, so it took me roughly 31+ hours to finish!
Originally, this pattern had flowers, but once I had stitched them, I absolutely hated them. I ripped them all off, scarring the canvas a bit (😞), and redesigned the whole thing. It was not the funnest part of the process.
Anyway, I'm pretty darn happy with the colour palette I hand-picked for this piece. A lot of work went into it 😭 I hope you like her!
Do you have any extinct animals you'd like to cross-stitch? 👁💋👁
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