By: Jim Taylor

            During the recent cold snap, we kept our bird feeder well stocked. Scrappy little finches, perky chickadees, juncos in their monk hoods, aggressive flickers, mindless quail - all congregated to plunder our manna from heaven.
           Joan and I found ourselves paying particular attention to a one-legged stellar jay. We nicknamed him "Gimpy" - as a term of respect, I hasten to add. His right leg hung uselessly, trailing below him in flight and drooping limply when he perched on the feeder.
           I used to think that a bird with a damaged leg was doomed. But apparently not.
           Gimpy got along quite well on one leg. He learned to balance his weight over that off-centre claw. He can cling erect to a swaying twig.
           We developed a special relationship with Gimpy. Not that he (or she) knew it. But whenever Gimpy landed on our feeder, we called each other to the window to watch. We admired the brilliant blues of his plumage. We celebrated his continuing survival.
           There seems to be something in the human psyche that wants to root for underdogs. We want Frodo to succeed against all odds against him; we identify with young Harry Potter battling the evil powers of Voldemort; we cheer for Robin Hood and Peter Rabbit.
           In the Christmas stories, we vest our sympathy in the helpless infant in the manger, not in the legal authority of King Herod.
           But at the same time, we rally behind upperdogs. At the Liberal Party convention, delegates started deserting likely losers right after the first ballot. They hitched their wagons to the candidate they hoped would become a star.
           The Toronto Blue Jays, B.C. Lions, Edmonton Oilers - all gain fan support as soon as they look like contenders.
           It seems to be an irreconcilable paradox in human nature. But perhaps paradoxes, like the recurring anomalies that led to chaos theory, are evidence of a deeper truth.
           Perhaps everything consists of polarities. The truth lies somewhere on the continuum between two extremes - but it's only those contradictory extremes that make the continuum evident to us.
           So we take life for granted, until confronted by the extremes of birth or death.
           We assume universal ethical norms, until we're shocked by the ruthlessness of a Marc Lepine or awed by the selflessness of a Jean Vanier.
           We never think about the water we drink, until we suffer dehydration on a hot day or devastation by a flood.
           I doubt if Gimpy indulges in introspective reflection. But I'm sure the value of having two legs never crossed his little mind until he had to get along on one.
           It's not that one end of the continuum is right and therefore the other must be wrong - it's that extremes themselves are wrong. Extremes of poverty or of wealth. Of power or powerlessness. Of popularity or loneliness.
           Even moderation, taken to an extreme, becomes immoderate.
           Like Gimpy balancing on one leg, our challenge is to find a balance between contradictory poles.

If you have comments or questions about Jim's column, write to him directly at jimt@quixotic.ca