Monday, July 25, 2005
Who's that eating that nasty food?
Nature is horrendous.
Giant mutant housemice are eating albatross chicks alive. Saw it on the news earlier, this huge white ball of fluff blinking and and looking around in bewilderment as a horde of rodents flickers around its back end, gnawing and scrabbling at its warm flesh. Hey, one for the metaphor file.
It's all our fault, naturally - mice are not native to the island. Grey squirrels are our doing too (Americans, actually). It's somehow more chilling the ways in which we fuck nature up indirectly, rather than openly and flagrantly. And going on shark hunts - "cold dead eyes, like a doll's eyes" - because a couple of surfers got chunks bitten out of them. Here's an idea - surf somewhere else. People who are concerned for the welfare of animals are often accused of anthropomorphosising, but they can't hold a candle to the ability of those who need a reason to kill to do the same thing - endowing primitive animals with murderous intent when they are as uncomplicated and basic and survival-oriented as anything living can be.
I really had a moment of clarity when the dog killed a rabbit last year. I really got it. It was nature, even if it was a somewhat bastardised version what with the predator being a domestic beast. The rabbit's instinct made it run, he chased it out of instinct, grabbed it, and killed it with one bite. He didn't need to kill it for food, didn't even know what to do with it once he'd got it, but he did what he did because that's what predators do and that's what he remains, even after being filtered through a thousand layers of DNA to become the docile (well, relatively) creature he is. It was entirely simple and commonplace, the most basic of equations, and there was nothing malevolent in it, this amazing and palpable absence of morality. The dog lying in grass panting with small rabbit by his front paws constituted this peaceful space where concepts of right and wrong just didn't exist. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad, it just was. It was oddly soothing. And I was surprised to find myself feeling proud of him, because I realised it might be the only moment in his life he would actually be an animal instead of just a pet.
It did give me a glimpse of how nature works if we haven't fiddled with it (I had a hand in the rabbit's death I suppose by bringing a domestic animal into its habitat, but it's pretty small beans). Sadly there are a million examples of how we've managed to directly or indirectly arse things up, and I have no doubt that if you traced back the origins of all the things I own and all the so-called food in my cupboards, you'd find a whole heap of little corpses. But that's where we live, and all we can really do is buy dolphin-friendly tuna and donate to IFAW once in a while.
I'm plagued by this stuff. If I could put all my idle brain to use I could probably power all the electrical appliances in my street, even that big stereo three doors down, indefinitely.
I fed the dog the rabbit's lights. He looked very queasy afterwards. So much for the Flesh.
Giant mutant housemice are eating albatross chicks alive. Saw it on the news earlier, this huge white ball of fluff blinking and and looking around in bewilderment as a horde of rodents flickers around its back end, gnawing and scrabbling at its warm flesh. Hey, one for the metaphor file.
It's all our fault, naturally - mice are not native to the island. Grey squirrels are our doing too (Americans, actually). It's somehow more chilling the ways in which we fuck nature up indirectly, rather than openly and flagrantly. And going on shark hunts - "cold dead eyes, like a doll's eyes" - because a couple of surfers got chunks bitten out of them. Here's an idea - surf somewhere else. People who are concerned for the welfare of animals are often accused of anthropomorphosising, but they can't hold a candle to the ability of those who need a reason to kill to do the same thing - endowing primitive animals with murderous intent when they are as uncomplicated and basic and survival-oriented as anything living can be.
I really had a moment of clarity when the dog killed a rabbit last year. I really got it. It was nature, even if it was a somewhat bastardised version what with the predator being a domestic beast. The rabbit's instinct made it run, he chased it out of instinct, grabbed it, and killed it with one bite. He didn't need to kill it for food, didn't even know what to do with it once he'd got it, but he did what he did because that's what predators do and that's what he remains, even after being filtered through a thousand layers of DNA to become the docile (well, relatively) creature he is. It was entirely simple and commonplace, the most basic of equations, and there was nothing malevolent in it, this amazing and palpable absence of morality. The dog lying in grass panting with small rabbit by his front paws constituted this peaceful space where concepts of right and wrong just didn't exist. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad, it just was. It was oddly soothing. And I was surprised to find myself feeling proud of him, because I realised it might be the only moment in his life he would actually be an animal instead of just a pet.
It did give me a glimpse of how nature works if we haven't fiddled with it (I had a hand in the rabbit's death I suppose by bringing a domestic animal into its habitat, but it's pretty small beans). Sadly there are a million examples of how we've managed to directly or indirectly arse things up, and I have no doubt that if you traced back the origins of all the things I own and all the so-called food in my cupboards, you'd find a whole heap of little corpses. But that's where we live, and all we can really do is buy dolphin-friendly tuna and donate to IFAW once in a while.
I'm plagued by this stuff. If I could put all my idle brain to use I could probably power all the electrical appliances in my street, even that big stereo three doors down, indefinitely.
I fed the dog the rabbit's lights. He looked very queasy afterwards. So much for the Flesh.
