Where we go who knows

Martyn saw this bird fly into the living room window and he brought it to me, knowing my habit of recording the creature as my homage to it.

It seemed almost appropriate to be looking at the wing span of this animal, still as can be, once able to lift this feathered body off the ground and high into the sky. Appropriate because there was much talk this morning on the air and cyber waves about the death of David Bowie. I heard it last night just before going to bed and was as shocked as anyone. One person made a comment that I had also made to Martyn,

"This is going to be the beginning of a long list of goodbyes for the people whose music we've grown up with."

Another woman stated she hoped Bowie had found God before his death even though he had once stated years ago he was almost an atheist. I found that so...annoying, really. Why should she be concerned if David Bowie 'found God'? What would happen if someone really discovered without a doubt there was no God, no after life that some believe is there-the kind of afterlife where we all see our favorite family members and pets-what if it is just...the end. And you are dust, without any emotion, memory, soul, energy. What if this is all there is, this life here. I have come to the decision that it is worth it. This life is worth it even if when I take my last breath that's it. In fact, it almost makes life even more meaningful and precious.

The farm has given me the opportunity to see death, and experience it, in a much different way than when I lived in the city with a couple of pets. While I've always been spiritual, I never was religious, but I do believe there is more after we die. I have no proof of it other than the feelings, sensations, visits, and sixth senses I have had over my fifty seven years. But, living on the farm, holding death so many times in my hands, burying an animal and hearing the dirt hit its body, I now see what will happen after I die. My body will be gone. But some people will remember me, and miss me even, but their lives will go on-just as mine has always gone on after losing my parents, and so many Misfits. It shouldn't really matter what happens to me after I die, as far as those living, because they are here no to live.

But if I die and that's it, I won't know anyway, will I? So I strive to do my work every day and do my best. I intentionally look up at the beautiful fog engulfed trees as I did this morning on my walk, and give a internal Wow. And while I take notice of the beautiful wings and markings of a dead bird, it is always the living I return to.

Homage to a squirrel

With respect, and sadness, I added some images to the ongoing "Homage" series.

I felt very sad about this little fellow, as not only did he have a struggle in the end, but I was partially to blame. It was not my intent to make him suffer, but my actions are partially to blame. Just as the person pulling out on a freeway doesn't intend to kill a person or deer, it happens. There are quick deaths-such as the couple of sheep that get slaughtered here on harvest day or the quick kill of the hawk or eagle. The intent in those kills is to eat. I think intention is always important to examine in our actions, to help us forgive, learn and make changes if needed.

I keep a tall plastic bucket by the chicken coop, allowing me to refresh their interior water bowl, without having to turn on the water hose. This is not out of laziness. It keeps me from turning the pump on unnecessarily, and causing it to possibly cycle, or over cycle, which leads to no water. Country living with wells is a different ball game than turning on the tap for city water.

So I was sad to find this little Douglas Squirrel drowned.

I even tried to massage his wet little body -but he was very cold, I knew he was gone.

I leave wood sticks in the bucket for bees and insects, but he just couldn't get out-the sides were probably too slippery.

But I took him in, dried him off a bit, and gave him his own little tin bucket. That way he wouldn't have to worry about the dangers of water anymore. He could rest on his little tin bucket, or get in it and float on to wherever he was going.

See the entire tribute to the little squirrel here.

More of the homage series

I have added more to the ongoing "Homage" series on the main site. The Homage series is my way of paying respect to creatures I find that have died or been killed. It is also a valuable lesson for me, and I hope you, in that we can look at creatures closely in ways we aren't able to when they are out in their living world.

Today we pay homage to a pair of little shrews, and a mole. The mole is incredible creature, huge hands that leave remnants of my field. As aggravated s it is to see mounds of dirt in spring, I can't hep but love them.

See more of the Homage Series
Homage to Shrews >
Homage to a Mole >
Homage to White Crested Sparrow >

Homage

I find that there are many ways to pay homage to a person or creature-writing about, painting or drawing the subject, or taking a photograph series. The latter somehow allows me to not only really spend time observing an animal I might not have had an opportunity to examine up close, but it also just lets me partake in it's worldly vessel that is now about to take on a new form of dust.

I've been wanting to start a series like this and each time I see a beautiful moth in the water bucket I think about starting but life kept getting in my way.

But no more. So yesterday when I found this White Crested Sparrow in the lavender field, I decided to finally start a photo series called "Homage".

Please visit my main art site to see all the images. And as I do more I will let you know.