The Return of the Animals
I confess to being a springtime scrooge. When everyone else is oohing and aahing over the warm weather, welcoming it and delighting in it, I cringe, knowing that, despite the fact that there are some magnificent days in April, May and early June, Spring is the harbinger of the dreaded hot-humid-hazy, lazy days of summer. Admittedly, this is a terrible attitude and a worse way to think, not living in the present at all.
April may be the cruelest month as T.S. Elliot writes, and I concur in many aspects, except for the return of the animals. Why? Because the animals work their unique and miraculous magic on depressed souls and bring joy. I once read that animals were natural anti-depressants… a very astute observation. How a child’s face lights up with joy to touch an animal or observe one up close. Adults, too, are wooed by their innocence. Animals bring enchantment, enrich our lives. That is why therapy dogs and other animals do such good work in hospitals, prisons, hospices for the dying, wherever there is misery.
The return of the animals brings music to the air, replacing the ominous gale winds of winter and the blanketed silence of snows. Insects hum and buzz. Birds sing and chirp. Windows are opened wide to allow sweet- smelling, soporific breezes to blow through our houses. Little green shoots become beautiful flowers in our gardens, along side roads, in the fields. Trees come to life again, gods of greenery. Fat, red-breasted robins perk up the lawn in their search for worms. And we no longer have to worry about animals starving. The deer we see mid-March in groups, scavenging for food are thin and weak. And the squirrels have run out of their stores as well, raiding the bird feeder which they normally leave to the birds. A late Spring means animals will starve and die with no edible items.
And yet, with all the pleasure the return of the animals brings us, do we welcome them with open arms? No, we fumigate our land and spread pesticides all over their territory. Many species of birds are heading towards extinction due to our use of pesticides and, generally speaking, our “development” of the land. We destroy vernal pools, thinking them mere puddles rather than the breeding place of frogs and salamanders. We take the babies of spring– the lambs, the calves– away from their mothers and slaughter them. Sometimes with abject cruelty, in full view of the mothers. The mothers wail in anguish. We break bonds stronger than the supposedly solid bond of human matrimony that nowadays fails as often as it succeeds.
In The Letter Writer, famed author, Isaac Bashevis Singer wrote: “In his thoughts, Herman spoke a eulogy for the mouse who had shared a portion of her life with him and who because of him, had left this earth. “What do they know–all these scholars, all these philosophers, all the leaders of the world–about such as you? They have convinced themselves that man, the worst transgressor of all the species, is the crown of creation. All other creatures were created merely to provide him with food, pelts, to be tormented, exterminated. In relation to them, all people are Nazis; for the animals it is an eternal Treblinka.”
This is how we repay those who bring us such joy, such love, such purity– those who uplift, save lives, care for us. It has been said that a dog is the only creature who loves his caretaker more than he loves himself. Dogs have it over us in this.
Spring is almost here and, with it, the return of the animals. Let us open our hearts to our fellow creatures and show them the appreciation they so deserve, for without them there truly will be, as Rachel Carson direly predicted, a “silent spring”.
For contributing to Michael’s home for street children in Uganda, click link below picture of Michael and Angie…
https://www.gofundme.com/f/sustainability-support-for-the-makindye-foundation
Sounds of Summer
(Click to enlarge photos)
Coming out of the winter silence– a silence so deep that one can hear the sound of one’s own nervous system– slowly nature’s musicians warm up in Spring. Gradually they gather and by summer we are hearing the full orchestra of the wilderness. There are so many sounds, one might talk of layers of sound.
Distant sounds waft through the air like a bank of clouds floating towards us. We hear the raucous cry of a murder of crows flying over some carrion far off in the forest. We hear the dogs down the road barking at some intruder into their world. From deep inside the dark woods comes the unmistakable throaty call of a turkey. And from the field across the way, the cooing of a dove.
And then the sounds of nearness, so familiar perhaps we no longer notice them: The wind blowing through the dark green summer leaves, each type of tree with its distinctive rustle. The chirping of sparrows and other frequenters of the back yard. The whine of a pair of grackles. The frequent complaint of the ever-present blue jay. The crystalline voice of a yellow warbler singing an aria. The plaintiff cries of a gaggle of geese flying far above. While in a nest under the eaves fledglings squeak waiting to be fed.
Bumblebees buzz across the lawn, miraculously defying gravity with their weight and size. They mix with the menacing whirr of wasps in a huge nest overhead. Flies and mosquitos hum literally in our ears as the occasional vibrating zum of a humming bird, jewel-like in the sun, flies around in the Joe Pie Weed. Dragon and damsel flies whizz by and hover in the air, occasionally even landing on us. All this reaches our ears above the constant background drone of crickets and cicadas.
As the day progresses, the late afternoon brings the intermittent twang of wood frogs hidden in the bushes, calling to each other from all directions. It seems we are surrounded by wood frogs and tree frogs who have replaced the frenetic, unceasing peeps of the spring peepers. Bird song reaches a crescendo and then dies down to silence for the night. The day sounds are replaced at night by the haunting hoo-hoo of a very close, but invisible, owl. The occasional crying baby sound of a bobcat cuts through the cricketed silence, and in the full moon the poignant howling of coyote fills the black night air, illuminated by silent fireflies.
And then there are the sounds of man and his machines. Noise pollution. Lawn tractors, airplanes, cars on the road, all terrain vehicles, weed wackers, motorcycles, trucks, lawn mowers, steam shovels. The list continues and grows in strength drowning out nature’s sounds of summer. With natural habitat dwindling, all the creatures of the wilderness are dying out or moving to last holds of their breeding grounds. Villages have become cities, masses of land covered in concrete and asphalt and steel, punctuated by tiny pockets of manicured nature.
Certain species of frog are becoming extinct around the world. The bee populations are dwindling leaving us to wonder who will pollinate the flowers. And the songbirds are dying out. Conservation biologist, Bridget Stutchbury in her book, Silence of the Songbirds, says this is partially due to habitat loss and predation but she believes the real culprit is pesticides. She says we are losing barn swallows, Eastern kingbirds, Kentucky warblers, bobolinks and wood thrushes. Pesticide can kill 7 to 25 songbirds per acre of application. As Stutchbury says we can stop this destruction by buying local and organic produce, in-season food and shade-grown coffee. As she points out, the balance of ecosystems is at stake because birds eat the caterpillars that fell forests. “If you take birds out of the forest, bugs are going to win.”
Though the current state of affairs looks grim there are activities one can do online to safeguard the future of the wilderness and its inhabitants. On one website you can click for free every day to give food and aid to animals. The address is http://www.animalrescuesite.com. On other websites, if you click on the “take action” button you can become involved in lobbying for animal rights and conservation of the wilderness with a modicum of effort, signing a letter, for example. And although you absolutely don’t have to, you can always make a donation. A select group follows …
http://www.sierraclub.org (The Sierra Club)
http://animallegaldefensefund.org (The Animal Legal Defense Fund)
http://farmsanctuary.com (The Farm Sanctuary)
http://www.peta.org (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals)
http://humanesociety.org (The Humane Society)
http://defendersofwildlife.com (Defenders of Wildlife)
Add your voice to the sounds of summer, speak for those who can not, and insure the future of the symphonies of summer.
Welcome to samples of my work in various art forms showcasing “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.” “Eye-locks” is a Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir in narrative form that describes the triumph of love over mental illness.
It’s 4 AM and I Miss You
It’s 4:27… 4:28… 4:29 AM
and I miss you
I hope to God you’ll awaken
and bring me coffee
and tell me something funny and I will laugh
and you will be so pleased to see
someone “get” one of your thousands of spontaneous jokes.
I miss you…
you with the beautifully streaked-with-grey, fuzzy hair
and hundreds of lines, going up, down and sideways
around the corners of your shy blue eyes.
You don’t know I am awake
missing you… your suddenly taking my hand
in yours and holding it on the sofa as
we silently watch our country self-destruct.
I hope to God you’ll awaken and all will be okay
for another day
for it is not promised
for it is not guaranteed
Nothing is.
The wonder that is you
that I found so many years ago
after being alone for so long and through so much.
Unadulterated joy you bring me
as I worry about your every breath
God keep you in his arms
and protect you
for it is 4:38 AM and I am missing you
as you lie in the arms of Morpheus
and I see lights on across the street
Others are awake
as you slumber
Time drags on as I am alone
I cannot wait for you to awaken
to see the twinkle in your eye
and the tousled hair.
I miss you
as I sit here typing and
reading of other’s lives.
It is 4:45 AM
about two more hours
for you lie
in our bed of 33 years.
It is 4:46 AM
and time goes so slowly
as I count the hours
until you awaken.
You with your gentle voice
the pleasant voice
that helped so many
as you listened to their anguish
A healer I always said you were/are.
Almost 5 AM
and I miss you.
If I miss you this much now,
oh, and here come the tears,
what of the day or night
God takes one of us away.
Or could we be so lucky
to go in each other’s arms?
My morbid mind
destroying the present with
fearing the future
It is 4:54 AM
and you have arisen
to make water.
You will stop by to see me
and ask why I am up
and ask me when I will come back to bed.
You are gone again
having returned to
the embrace of sleep
For a second the thrill of you
all tousled and concerned
shot through me.
I will come join you
and look at the lights across the way
and wait if I can’t sleep
for you to awaken
and greet me with another day
as our shared time together
zips by with a vengeance now
my time with you.
5:03… eternity
the pain in my throat and head
throbbing
I should lie down
but it has been so long
since words have come
5:05 AM…5:10 AM
I feel chill
I feel pain
missing you.
5:11 AM
Let me go
lie next to you
and think of the wonder
of your presence
in our marital bed.
5:25 AM…
Veneration of the Lamb
“Lamb of God, you who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us!”
“What has happened to our instinct for unity? The creatures know the rhythm of the earth. They have not forgotten the oneness of which we are a part. So in the Celtic world, they are messengers of Christ, the One who comes to reconnect us to the Heart of Being.” (Christ of the Celts by J. Philip Newell)
Do Lions Feel?
This video should put to rest any doubt that all animals are sentient beings. I feel badly that this lion is trapped in a zoo but at least he was saved from death. Obviously never forgot his saviour.
http://www.vitality101.com/Fun/lion-kisses-rescuer
The Horrors of Horse Racing
All that you see on this video is true. This is just the tip of the iceberg. My brother worked on many racetracks, including Belmont, and he told us stories that were heartbreaking. He finally got out of the race track business because he loved horses but could not abide the cruelty of how horses were treated. The video explains…
seeing you in others…
Look at Little Black and Little White, How strong is their brotherhood! May you give unconditional love to all living beings!
Do you spend time to chat with your parent?
If you are working and stay with your parent, most probably you might see them in the morning and evening.
If you are working and not to stay with your parent, most probably you can see your parent during weekend or long holiday.
Imagine, how lonely they are.
Every night, I’ll do my best to spend time to talk to my parent.
We are glad to have our 2 little Bodhisattva cats at home to accompany our parent while we are working.
Little black, the little kitten brought back by Little White, he is with us since young, we train him to be indoor cat.
Everyday, when we are home, mum will definitely share with us on what is happening…
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PETA – STOP THE SEAL SLAUGHTER!
Please sign the petition and do whatever you can to stop this horrific cruelty. It is a crime of against God’s creatures and a heinous act on the part of men who call themselves human.
Stop the Seal Slaughter! Urge Canada to End Shameful Killing
For centuries, pregnant harp seals have migrated from Greenland down the coast of Canada, stopping each spring to give birth on the ice floes off Newfoundland. And every year, the Canadian government funds a trade in which the baby seals are massacred by club-wielding sealers from the local fishing community while their pelts remain soft enough to sell on the international fur market. The commercial seal slaughter is not a subsistence activity for native peoples but an off-season fishing industry cash grab, and it accounts for less than 1 per cent of Newfoundland’s economy.
Over the last few years, all major markets have banned seal-pelt imports, including the US, the European Union, Mexico, Taiwan and even Russia, which had been importing 95 per cent of Canadian sealskins. The only reason the Canadian government continues to defend this dead industry is…
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Animal Ghosts
The documentary, “The Ghost in Our Machine,” follows photographer, Jo-Anne McArthur as she takes pictures to show animal abuse on factory farms and how animals are helped by sanctuaries like Farm Sanctuary. It is a disturbing film but an extremely important one. We must rethink how we contribute to the cruelty inflicted upon dogs, cats, foxes, minks and farm animals. Please watch the trailer below. Jo-Anne McArthur has a book of her photographs and writings called, “We Animals.”
Blind Comraderie
Two blind cows suffering a lifetime of abuse come together for the first time…
Elephants NEVER forget….the bond of love.
http://www.wimp.com/elephantsreunited/
After a very long separation, a loving reunion! Get out the handkerchiefs! If this is not love, i don’t know what is!
Soulful Eyeful
It being the holidays
missing
loved ones
one of the most loved
one of the best teachers
a little dog
Ko-Ko
all innocence
all love
all pure soul
oh, to nuzzle her fur
smell her dander
feel her tongue
upon my face
and her fluffy fur
against my skin
and Dutchie
another innocent
another tactile teacher
peace personified
oh to hold her in my lap
as she sleeps
and have her total trust
lying on blue-jeaned legs
oh for a visit
from either
or another gift
from Ko-ko
who shared a vision
of the beyond
after she passed
now
no wee ones
just an ache
where love still lives
Gone is the Magic
Snow falls
in hushed tones
magically transforming all,
dressing trees in white,
lace-like filigree.
These trees now gone,
on the old dirt path,
victims of a wilderness
lost to landscaping,
taming the wild
into manicured parks,
leaving many animals now
homeless,
leaving a loss
of beauty that once reigned
supreme.
Caught on Video: Elephant Sunder Beaten
Warning video is very upsetting!! You don’t have to watch it but please sign the petition for Sunder to be taken out of his current torture chamber where he is being so cruelly treated and moved to safety!
Zirafa
Willow, a one day old baby Giraffe with its mother.
Picture credit: Ralph Daily
I had no intention of writing today, but coming upon this story and the petition that accompanied it, changed that in a heartbeat.
For as long as I can remember, the Giraffe has been the object of my affection and admiration.
There is something so regal, so fragile, so graceful, so endearing about them, how could you not love them.
In my lifetime, I have, with little shame, amassed a collection of Giraffes in every form, all manner of clothing, toys for my children and my dogs of course, stationary, Christmas cards, birthday cakes, Giraffes made of paper, wood, copper, bisque, brass, you name it, if it is a Giraffe anything, I have it.
In my defense, many of the above were gifts, as my love of this animal was well-known.
But apparently, not everyone loves or cherishes…
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Within Blue Prison Walls…
love happens
hugs and kisses
within the pen.
Love triumphant
over blue confinement.
Mother and Child
Proud mother,
smiling unmistakable smile
as little lamb, curled up,
sleeps safely beside her,
for now.
Tomorrow
both mother and child
will cry anguished tears,
suffer a searing separation,
as they take little one away,
hopefully out of sight and sound
of mother,
to bring little lamb to slaughter
for a holiday meal.
Innocence Sacrificed
Newborn lambs
eat joyfully
and frolic freely,
with abundant abandon
and love for life,
in utter oblivion
of the upcoming holiday
for which so many will die.
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