It's pouring rain today and I'm relegated to the interior of my habitat with my dogs. I couldn't ask for a better group to be rained in with. All my gear and adventure equipment has been made ready during the winter months so there's no urgency's to handle there. I have started to use the RAW format in the 50D Canon camera and it is presenting image process challenges to me that I have not before been associated with. RAW is, as I understand it, the negative of the digital camera world. In order to view and use the RAW image; it must undergo a special manipulative operation utilizing RAW specific software. That is something I can focus on this afternoon also.
I received two emails from folks who read the short story, "The Last Hunt" on my blog and both were disturbed by it. Also, both are animal lovers and found the content of the story, shall we say, an emotional read. They both work where I work and know me very well. I, also, could be labeled an animal lover although my motivations for caring for animals goes beyond the personal involvement level of liking the cute, defenseless dog, cat or Bambi. I guess it fair to say that my concern and involvement with animals is one of stewardship of all citizens of nature, their habitat and the ecology that surrounds and supports the lives of all of them. That story, by the way, is a true one. It is a piece of information to add to all the other pieces of data concerning things wild that may be contributed to one's mental library of thoughts. It should support or diminish a feeling or predetermined conclusion one may have that pertains to the life and death aspect of the human/animal relationship. The logical term that comes to mind is hunting. Sport, necessity, species population control or revenue producing activity; it's you're decision to arrive at a conclusion. That story is simply what it is; a story. Take from it what you will. Or take nothing from it except the feeling of revulsion. I personally hurt when I read the story that I, myself, have written. It's my reaction to my own story; I am saddened by it. Make sense? I sometimes can write myself into a box and possibly have done so here.
I can write happy stories but find that life isn't always happy and satisfying. In the natural world; in the wild places, life is short and the end is always less than easy for natures creatures. They weren't equipped to think about what's happening to them. They can only hide, run, blend in, fight and/or die. The strong will prevail; always. It is that simple. But in the interim they share their beauty and grace with us. Their fortitude and heartiness to survive amazes us and allows us to identify our own weaknesses. They command our attention to their beauty, elegance and uniqueness. In doing so, we feel a terrible loss at their demise and passing. We humans have created a dangerous world for our natural friends and without our care and attention they all shall pass into history someday. One by one, species by species they will disappear until one day a child will say to his father; "why is it so quiet in the woods dad? Dad; show me a bird. Can you dad?"
