the day the cat and the quail taught the lesson
Today a young boy forgot to put one of the newly hatched quail in it’s cat-proof cage. Today, the incredible cat hunter wiggled his way into the wire pen surrounding the cage and chewed off the head of the tiny fledgling quail named “Quality”. The nine year old saw the cat in the pen, sounded the alarms with anger in his voice, and ran over to find the dead chick. his mother found him standing with huge tears dripping down his cheeks, holding the limp feathery body by a lone foot. He pleaded with me to get rid of the remaining five in our new little covey, to save their lives from his forgetfulness and the cat’s cunning. His sobs shook his chest which shook the hand holding the suspended life. We looked deep into one another, both of us knowing in that moment, nothing will save any of us from our death.
The earth after all, is made up of our ancestor’s rot and bones. ‘Earth’ is the collection of the skin and blood and organ meat of all the animals that have been here before. ‘Earth’ is flesh. ‘Earth’ is life and death, equally. It can only be this way, all of us out there eating each other. How do the trees turn decomposing bodies into green iridescent beauty? How is it that death is part of what makes this earth so exquisite? How is it that the soft skin of the earth can only exist by digesting the soft skin of our ancestors?
In this way, we are all still here. Bones filter well water. Rock and metal are formed from our thousand year old ancestors. And so why is it that we feel like we are separate, we who are alive right now for this fleeting whisper of a moment in the great story of Earth? How is it that we could be so delusional – and so afraid for what is inevitable? My heart may one day nourish a tiny weed. That weed might get stepped on by my granddaughter's granddaughter. The ash that becomes my body may swirl around the body of a future sea otter. One day a few remaining cells of what is now me may be part of a dried leaf on a tree, now falling, now landing, now becoming the earth once more. Do these images soften the reality that the earth is essentially made up of suffering? A life suffered through is a life on this planet. And yet, I look to the horizon and know that I would have it no other way, I would not trade in my fleeting whisper of a life that gets to witness this beauty for anything. The way the light reaches through the window in the morning, the way my child’s face softens when asleep, the way the patterns in a leaf show up in the same patterns on my skin.
So what is Earth again? The Earth is life and death co- mingling, intertwined, enmeshed, coexistent, codependent, grief and gratitude all at once.
The remains of the chick were left out of reach - to come back and bury her after the necessary errand - but when we return, we only find part of a wing, and a resourceful fluffy cat basking in the sun on top of the quail filled cage. Such brutality seems reserved for predators and prey, and yet, how could we blame him? The earth is as beautiful as it is terrible; as full of life as it is full of decay. The quail know this, the cat too. Their complete and perfect acceptance leaves me awestruck, and inspired to try for the same…whatever arises….acceptance.
So that’s our ‘school’ for the day, to be with and grabble over. To forgive the cuddly cat who knows how to sleep on our feet when they are cold. To learn from the remaining quail who sit basking in the sun, relaxed and open, to what comes next.
