scavenging
Aug. 9th, 2007 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zenithblueOf all the things I saw between Oregon and Texas, the sights that stood out to me the most were the scavenger birds.
I've always liked scavengers. I know they're not popular, signets of death that they are. They've always reminded me, though, of the absolute economy of nature. When I see roadkill I feel a pang of regret for the little life lost. But when I see a crow crouched over it, or turkey vulture circling overhead, it's a comfort. There is suffering and pain and it' s a part of living. There's also nourishment and resourcefulness, and that's part of living too. Carrion animals take what's passed and use it for energy. Waste not, want not.
Driving through a country that alternates between barren stripmalls and sweepingly beautiful vistas, I had a lot of time to consider the subtle ways the universe compensates for loss. This isn't always as simple as "God opening a window after closing a door." This isn't always as simple as "leave the place and people you love behind in return for the chance to do what you love." It's sometimes a matter of something literally dying, literally suffering and wasting away or being mowed over by a large fast-moving vehicle or starving to death in the wilderness, in order that something else can eat it and thrive.
We're here. Let's see what flourishes.
I've always liked scavengers. I know they're not popular, signets of death that they are. They've always reminded me, though, of the absolute economy of nature. When I see roadkill I feel a pang of regret for the little life lost. But when I see a crow crouched over it, or turkey vulture circling overhead, it's a comfort. There is suffering and pain and it' s a part of living. There's also nourishment and resourcefulness, and that's part of living too. Carrion animals take what's passed and use it for energy. Waste not, want not.
Driving through a country that alternates between barren stripmalls and sweepingly beautiful vistas, I had a lot of time to consider the subtle ways the universe compensates for loss. This isn't always as simple as "God opening a window after closing a door." This isn't always as simple as "leave the place and people you love behind in return for the chance to do what you love." It's sometimes a matter of something literally dying, literally suffering and wasting away or being mowed over by a large fast-moving vehicle or starving to death in the wilderness, in order that something else can eat it and thrive.
We're here. Let's see what flourishes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ohmygod, you're there
on 2007-08-09 11:56 pm (UTC)Re: ohmygod, you're there
on 2007-08-11 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-10 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-10 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-10 03:18 am (UTC)You know what though? I have no recollections of birds -- scavengers or otherwise -- on my trip. Weird.
I'm psyched that you made it out there safely. I can't wait to hear about your travel adventures and new experiences in Austin!
no subject
on 2007-08-10 03:59 am (UTC)And thanks very much for the postcard.
no subject
on 2007-08-10 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-10 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-11 01:56 pm (UTC)...lick, indeed!
;)
I also love the Scrug and want him as a pet, now.
no subject
on 2007-08-13 06:44 pm (UTC)We've gotten in the habit of taking them in the yard at night and letting them roam around--they never stray too far from us. It's adorable. I'm already not looking forward to when they become even more independent.