Wildness
"Prowling his own quiet backyard or asleep by the fire, he is still only a whisker away from the wilds." Jean Burden
My friend Jorge says I have a farm now. All these cats, and the care they need, is like having a small animal farm, he says.
I see his point. When I was young and raising bummer lambs, the first thing I did in the morning was to mix their lamb chow and feed them with a bottle. One year, there were over twenty. It took considerable finesse to be sure they each got their fill. Their need for attentive care is similar to my attention to the cats.
The cats are old enough to wait until I’ve had my tea and meditation. Besides, they have at least one other option and, I suspect, more than that. I think Oh-Oh knows of several cat-friendly houses where he is likely to get a handout.
The difference from a farm, though, is that cats aren’t seen as particularly useful. On a farm, they likely would be left to fend for themselves by catching mice. If they weren’t good hunters, they would starve to death. No rabies shots, no spay and neuter, no doctoring, and no petting. They would truly be wild, just like the barn cats I caught sight of when I was growing up.
In the city, what use are they? People accuse them of killing songbirds and leaving poop and making yowling noises that disturbs sleep. This group certainly leaves poop, but rarely catch birds and rarely yowl. In fact, they are noticeably quiet. I think it’s a survival strategy. But from a are-they-useful standpoint, it’s hard to see why anyone would spend time and money to care for their needs.
“What about all the starving children in the world?” someone asked me.
“Yes,” I respond. “I’ve wondered about that too. All I can say for sure is that these cats showed up on my doorstep and I responded. I keep hearing ‘yes’ to including them in my life, to listening and following what they show me.”
One of things they show me is how they are “only a whisker away from the wilds" and I feel much gratitude for that. Wildness is shrinking and I fear it diminishes our human creativity and ability to respond with broad and deep intelligence to the world.
Recently I had an image of great lioness lying in tall grass watching her habitat being chewed up by giant machines. I felt the grief, the wonder, the mystery of witnessing the end of conditions that serve lions. Like Ishi, the last of her tribe.
Ishi came down out of the mountains and lived with great and deep intelligence in San Francisco. I don’t think he lost his wildness. We had much to learn from him, his people, the lions. I suspect wildness is in our genes. I am glad for the daily reminder of the beauty of the wild that I see so clearly in the cat colony. Gentle, fierce, playful, restful, eager to learn, wholehearted, and only “a whisker away”.
My friend Jorge says I have a farm now. All these cats, and the care they need, is like having a small animal farm, he says.
I see his point. When I was young and raising bummer lambs, the first thing I did in the morning was to mix their lamb chow and feed them with a bottle. One year, there were over twenty. It took considerable finesse to be sure they each got their fill. Their need for attentive care is similar to my attention to the cats.
The cats are old enough to wait until I’ve had my tea and meditation. Besides, they have at least one other option and, I suspect, more than that. I think Oh-Oh knows of several cat-friendly houses where he is likely to get a handout.
The difference from a farm, though, is that cats aren’t seen as particularly useful. On a farm, they likely would be left to fend for themselves by catching mice. If they weren’t good hunters, they would starve to death. No rabies shots, no spay and neuter, no doctoring, and no petting. They would truly be wild, just like the barn cats I caught sight of when I was growing up.
In the city, what use are they? People accuse them of killing songbirds and leaving poop and making yowling noises that disturbs sleep. This group certainly leaves poop, but rarely catch birds and rarely yowl. In fact, they are noticeably quiet. I think it’s a survival strategy. But from a are-they-useful standpoint, it’s hard to see why anyone would spend time and money to care for their needs.
“What about all the starving children in the world?” someone asked me.
“Yes,” I respond. “I’ve wondered about that too. All I can say for sure is that these cats showed up on my doorstep and I responded. I keep hearing ‘yes’ to including them in my life, to listening and following what they show me.”
One of things they show me is how they are “only a whisker away from the wilds" and I feel much gratitude for that. Wildness is shrinking and I fear it diminishes our human creativity and ability to respond with broad and deep intelligence to the world.
Recently I had an image of great lioness lying in tall grass watching her habitat being chewed up by giant machines. I felt the grief, the wonder, the mystery of witnessing the end of conditions that serve lions. Like Ishi, the last of her tribe.
Ishi came down out of the mountains and lived with great and deep intelligence in San Francisco. I don’t think he lost his wildness. We had much to learn from him, his people, the lions. I suspect wildness is in our genes. I am glad for the daily reminder of the beauty of the wild that I see so clearly in the cat colony. Gentle, fierce, playful, restful, eager to learn, wholehearted, and only “a whisker away”.
posted by Forgive the Dream at 9:22 AM
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