I was leaving to go out one morning, I don't remember where, it doesn't seem important in the grand scheme of it all anyhow. I walked out the back door of my residence hall and there I saw the saddest of sights. A small, Carolina Wren as I would come to find out, lay dead on the back steps. I was deeply saddened by this, any loss of life is a sad loss of life as all life should be treated sacred, but I didn't know what to do. I started to walk past it but I couldn't bring myself to just letting it lay there indignant on the steps. So I put my things down and sat for a moment, trying to think of a way to pick up this poor bird and give it a proper burial. I finally settled upon going to the bathroom to grab a paper towel, I gently wrapped the small bird into the paper towel and buried it under a pile of dead leaves near by. I said some small words while I stood there, not being very religious I felt sheepish as I said a small concluding prayer at the spot, hoping the birds soul may find rest. The question I pose coming out of this story is this; why did I feel such a sense of responsibility to the bird whereas any other animal most likely would've passed it up or made it a midday meal. Why do we as humans feel, or in many cases not feel, this sense of moral responsibility towards the natural world?
“There is no Sleepy Hollow on the Internet, no peaceful spot where contemplativeness can work its restorative magic. There is only the endless, mesmerizing buzz of the urban street.” Nicholas Carr, from The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains (New York: Norton, 2010)
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Last Song of the Song Bird
I was leaving to go out one morning, I don't remember where, it doesn't seem important in the grand scheme of it all anyhow. I walked out the back door of my residence hall and there I saw the saddest of sights. A small, Carolina Wren as I would come to find out, lay dead on the back steps. I was deeply saddened by this, any loss of life is a sad loss of life as all life should be treated sacred, but I didn't know what to do. I started to walk past it but I couldn't bring myself to just letting it lay there indignant on the steps. So I put my things down and sat for a moment, trying to think of a way to pick up this poor bird and give it a proper burial. I finally settled upon going to the bathroom to grab a paper towel, I gently wrapped the small bird into the paper towel and buried it under a pile of dead leaves near by. I said some small words while I stood there, not being very religious I felt sheepish as I said a small concluding prayer at the spot, hoping the birds soul may find rest. The question I pose coming out of this story is this; why did I feel such a sense of responsibility to the bird whereas any other animal most likely would've passed it up or made it a midday meal. Why do we as humans feel, or in many cases not feel, this sense of moral responsibility towards the natural world?
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