Seven birds and, as of this morning, six baby mice.
That is the death toll this spring. I can not provide context for this loss because I don’t know how many baby birds were in all of the nests around our house, nor do I know how many mice families call our piece of land home.
It may have been a happy spring full of spread wings and gleeful burrowing, but I am left with the loss.
This often happens and I wonder if it means I’m a glass is half empty person. If I’m incapable of seeing the big picture and I’ll continue tripping over my emotions while so many people see clearly. Rise.
I remember all thirteen. Not because I was necessarily counting, but because I wanted to tell Michael. We were losing so many, maybe something was wrong.
Two of them were perched on the bush right outside my office door, two were in the front fountain, one was outside the front door and I had to fight off the ants. One was by my elephant plant and one more was right outside my bedroom door when I let Jack out late one night.
All of the mice were in the pool on different days. Tiny eyes closed, new almost clear fuzz over pink skin.
I am the person that found them, laid them to rest or more realistically put them out to be food farther up the chain.
Two years ago, I found a baby bird who had fallen prematurely from the nest. I attempted to intervene, nurse it to health and full flight. Some could say I interfered with the inevitable. Birds fall from their nests, snakes eat mice, or they slip into a pool that has no place in the middle of the desert.
In the time since my failed attempt to outsmart Mother Nature, I have learned that the loss is inevitable. It’s in the numbers.
Perhaps it is best to remove oneself from the details and focus on the stats, the charts. Lately that seems the safest bet.
X number of people were killed, but silver lining, Y number are unharmed. Maybe arm’s length reveals the positive outlook. I will never know.
I have tried to look at things as a whole, on a national or global level. Just last year I came to the realization I was a stitch in a massive fabric. I also work on not overdramatizing things, being more… level headed.
It’s good to work for better, but there are some pieces of myself I know for certain.
If one of my chidren were killed, be it in a car accident or by a bomb, I wouldn’t care how many people drive safely each day. It would not matter how many children just missed or survived the blast.
If that makes me weak or self-centered, uncaring, well then there it is.
There are nests and cozy crevices all over the world. There are only a few in my nest, cradled close to my heart. If one falls, just one, you can show me graphs all day long and it won’t matter.
I will not be happy for those who made it or able to see the stupid lining. I will be brought to my knees.
I suppose it is a very good thing Mother Nature is a numbers girl, a big picture person. Someone has to keep that sun coming up every morning and it sure as hell wouldn’t be me.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Not Today.
coping death England nature pain reality thoughts coping death loss nature pain thoughts
Stalin is supposed to have said that the death of one man is a tragedy, but the death of a million men is a statistic; and Mother Theresa said that if she looked at the mass of humanity she could not act, she had to look at the individual.