Life is tenuous – impermanent. We never know. We never know. Imagine the moment when one living creature intentionally kills another, and another, and another, losing count of the lives passing – passing with the whir of arrows, the pop of shotguns, the thud of flesh on bone. Is it ever justifiable? Do beliefs and attitudes matter? Does the kind of life matter? A horse. A dog. A rat. A woman. A child. A virus. When the passing occurs, tears are sometimes shed, but so, too, beer kegs and burgers. Many ethical questions arise from the sight of two geese winging south in the autumn. Can you hear them?
Tears
borderlands
crackling cornfields
bronze rising
black dog
magnetic homing
ashen sky
downwind leg
south
2 geese
slipstream
wing-on-wing
Canadian honkers
pair
to black
autumn tears
2 geese
Horicon
one spirals
to dog jaws
tears of autumn
north
one goose tears
snow in a silver bowl
spring tears
cold-star tears
Background
I grew up in Wisconsin. Hunting and fishing were ubiquitous. There is a place in that State called Horicon Marsh. It is famous for its abundance of ducks and geese migrating, following the magnetic compass of the earth. Autumn in Horicon is a place of gleeful slaughter. Guns and dogs and their men (a scattering of women) congregate to shoot the contoured flyers, heavy with their summer plumage. My partner of those years was as avid a gunman as the next guy with a weapon. I stayed in the vehicle trying to read but too distracted by the constant exploding pops of gunfire, but most of all by the throaty calls of warning and dismay. I imagined the flyers’ already long journey from the borderlands, and how these mate-for-life wonders pass over us, trusting; then spiraling down like fallen stars.
Exploration 1: Is it ever right to purposefully kill a living being? Regardless of your answer, please explain.
Exploration 2: What is the significance of creatures that mate for life? Why are humans not among such species?
One of my earliest life lessons was to learn where food comes from; food in the form of meat as well as vegetable. I was born in a city, an only son of two former farm bred and born people who taught me such wondrous things without making slaughter a sport nor revulsion. I don't recall being affected by the facts except for the fact my mother was an excellent cook.
ReplyDeleteAs I've written before, she was born here in NW Minnesota, back in time, when they had no in-door plumbing, no electricity, no phone, no screens on their windows, no car nor truck, nor well-pump other than what labor you put forth literally pumping water from a well by lifting a pump handle up and down, up and down, etc, etc until you filled the bucket you brought to the well. No food got to the table that wasn't raised in your garden, your fields, or in the barn or outside it. Things were planted, then they were harvested. Animals were raised, utilized, then either sold or slaughtered to put meat on the table. Truly, not everyone was keen on the idea; it'd be a lie to say they were.
Sometimes the animals raised on farms weren't eaten by the farmers who raised them, because, in a sense, they were owned by someone else had the animals been used as collateral for farm loans; their sale provided much needed money for the farmer and his or her family needs. This was true in my mother's family case, so their larder was supplemented by the killing of wild game, i.e., deer, moose, bear, fish, and fowl including ducks, geese, and grouse. She never grew tired of it all her days, thinking of it as an all-year-around gift. As my father wasn't a hunter, she encouraged me to hunt and fish; as did an older cousin from Wannaska, who lived with us in Iowa, a couple years after his graduation from high school.
Returning from 'uphome' he would present her with gifts of smoked meat (spekachut), fresh fish, venison, and moose whenever the opportunity arose. I can still imagine her smile and excitement as she pulled the paper wrapped packages from the box he'd bring home. I took over the role when he got married and moved away; she smiled just as greatly.
Making the decision to kill an animal, for me, isn't something I take lightly. I've shot many deer, squirrels and rabbits. I've caught a few fish, killed geese, ducks and grouse. If I hadn't been encouraged by a parent; I may not have hunted at all, because I lived in the city for almost half my life. I was the only one in our group of three friends during middle and high school to hunt and fish, though target shooting wasn't out of the question. My cousin was both a mentor and facilitator during that time as we had many outdoor adventures and fun in pursuit of wily ringneck pheasants.
Is it right to ever kill a living being? Is it right? Hmmmm . . . depends on if it's done with respect/mercy, and not malice. Or in self-defense, or for sustenance; not savagery.
What a beautiful contemplation of “Tears.” You look at its subject from 360 degrees through your personal history, influences, and even morality/ethics. Your obvious wisdom is informed by a full circle of perspectives, not just one opinion, and that’s that. I am especially drawn to your depiction of how various people in our lives lead us to practice by a set of principles and virtues that make up a way of living both in awareness and in unconscious action. Yet, by far what admire and resonate with most about this piece is the vivid images of the periods and experiences of your life. Thank you for creating this wonderful essay with its heartfelt echo of my "Tears" and its accompanying explorations.
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