- Post starter
- #13
You know what was really neat about the whale a3a2, it seemed to be 'motionless', but 'rolling' as it slowly, very slowly broke water, like a hill sitting there, but moving. And it didn't seem to be distrubing the water at all. :-)
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Ok, this next story is kinda weird. Instead of relating what *might* have happened, I am going to relate what my senses and instincts told me *was* happening, ok?
It was on a short hike from a campground to a small Alpine lake, pine trees and beautiful mountains in the background. I set out mid-day with a foam pad in my day pack, intent on cruising up to this little lake to just kick back and enjoy the serenity.
I was hiking along, not in any hurry, head down looking at the well maintained trail ahead, impressed with the flat rocks a trail crew had installed. Was moving through a stand of pine trees heading into a clearing when in front of me, on the trail, I spotted a mouse.
I stopped and looked down at the mouse, immediatly seeing it was badly injured. Its back legs appeared to be not working, and it was making a desperate effort to drag its self off a flat rock in the trail, and over to the side for better cover. I watched its little arms working while it drug its useless legs behind.
I knealt down, taking a better look at this poor creature. It occured to me a bird had probably got it, injured it, then perhaps dropped it. Maybe the bird had dropped it fending off other birds as sometimes happens.
I took off my pack and sat close to the mouse, looking at it, there was no one else around and I said, "oh, poor mouse" aloud. At that moment the mouse stopped its desperate efforts, sat up on its rear, with its useless little legs sticking out in front of it, facing me.
It was one of those moments where my sight became like tunnel vision, as I focused on the mouse. It began, almost unbelievably, to wave its arms, looking straight at me, and moving its mouth in anguish seemingly crying out. It knew it was dying. I watched, transfixed, as it silently related its horror.
I couldn't believe my eyes. Then, I realized that I was probably the thing keeping the bird from coming back and finishing the job. I wondered, as I began to weep, what the hell I could do for it? For the life of me, I could not bear to kill it. I envisioned the only means at my disposal to do so, and rejected the thought at once.
For some reason, I empathized with this mouse, and it triggerd a gushing of tears, just couldn't even believe how hard it broke me up. Carefully I picked the mouse up with a couple small twigs and moved it to a shady spot on top of a flat rock off the trail. Put on my pack, and hiked up to the lake.
The lake had a nice place to lay down in the sun, with a smooth boulder for a back rest. Still, my mind held the image of the mouse, seemingly reaching out to me, and the tears flowed. I was struck by this, and the feeling of being unable to help the mouse.
The afternoon passed, the clouds swirled overhead against a deep blue sky...
Just another day on Earth.
Thank you for reading.
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Ok, this next story is kinda weird. Instead of relating what *might* have happened, I am going to relate what my senses and instincts told me *was* happening, ok?
It was on a short hike from a campground to a small Alpine lake, pine trees and beautiful mountains in the background. I set out mid-day with a foam pad in my day pack, intent on cruising up to this little lake to just kick back and enjoy the serenity.
I was hiking along, not in any hurry, head down looking at the well maintained trail ahead, impressed with the flat rocks a trail crew had installed. Was moving through a stand of pine trees heading into a clearing when in front of me, on the trail, I spotted a mouse.
I stopped and looked down at the mouse, immediatly seeing it was badly injured. Its back legs appeared to be not working, and it was making a desperate effort to drag its self off a flat rock in the trail, and over to the side for better cover. I watched its little arms working while it drug its useless legs behind.
I knealt down, taking a better look at this poor creature. It occured to me a bird had probably got it, injured it, then perhaps dropped it. Maybe the bird had dropped it fending off other birds as sometimes happens.
I took off my pack and sat close to the mouse, looking at it, there was no one else around and I said, "oh, poor mouse" aloud. At that moment the mouse stopped its desperate efforts, sat up on its rear, with its useless little legs sticking out in front of it, facing me.
It was one of those moments where my sight became like tunnel vision, as I focused on the mouse. It began, almost unbelievably, to wave its arms, looking straight at me, and moving its mouth in anguish seemingly crying out. It knew it was dying. I watched, transfixed, as it silently related its horror.
I couldn't believe my eyes. Then, I realized that I was probably the thing keeping the bird from coming back and finishing the job. I wondered, as I began to weep, what the hell I could do for it? For the life of me, I could not bear to kill it. I envisioned the only means at my disposal to do so, and rejected the thought at once.
For some reason, I empathized with this mouse, and it triggerd a gushing of tears, just couldn't even believe how hard it broke me up. Carefully I picked the mouse up with a couple small twigs and moved it to a shady spot on top of a flat rock off the trail. Put on my pack, and hiked up to the lake.
The lake had a nice place to lay down in the sun, with a smooth boulder for a back rest. Still, my mind held the image of the mouse, seemingly reaching out to me, and the tears flowed. I was struck by this, and the feeling of being unable to help the mouse.
The afternoon passed, the clouds swirled overhead against a deep blue sky...
Just another day on Earth.
Thank you for reading.
