A moth was so unfortunate as to fly into the box where I am keeping my chickens till they are mature enough to be outside. This weekend I assure you. At first they were confused as to what it could be; silently their heads moving in disconcerting unison as the black moth -sleek as a B2 Bomber – wove through the wire mesh that covers their box. He bounced off the light bulb with a cloud of wing dust and landed right down in their lair. They had no idea what to do yet, poor little fellow looked sort of surprised he landed and was still alive, but he knew better than to wait for them to catch on.
Sometimes he would land on the side of the box. Instinct kicked in and my band of prehistoric birds would all run over, beaks open, as they let out a strange war cry fighting to try and catch him. Reminded me of the old black and white video when the girls rushed the barricades to see the Beatles. One bird eventual won, moth captured, she ran around in circles chirping gleefully – her song had changed – the other ladies following her trying to take it away.
I find moths more interesting than butterflies and I did try to catch him with the intent of putting him back outside. Instead I became so fascinated with the birds instinct to forage, kill and survive that I just let things be and chose to watch. I was both impressed at the birds capabilities, chickens are not by any means cute and fuzzy, and regretful I let a good moth die: “I hope he wasn’t someone I knew in a previous life” I said to my husband.
Reading blogs make me feel like this sometimes. It isn’t that I can psychically predict a particular outcome for someone based on what they decide to write, it is because people are so hell bound on writing everything out that they fail to see a pattern: in themselves and our human nature. You see these birds mature at a rate we humans do not, their predispositions kick in quickly and in their little brain and world there are only so many things they need to know in order to survive and not become fox food. I didn’t show them how to catch a month they just went with instinct.
We people have a much harder and complex time, aging and maturing as slowly as we do with the influence of a much bigger brain and world around us which often clouds our natural instincts; particularly for fight or flight. Unlike these birds we are influenced so greatly by the people around us that you have to sort of wonder what we would look like or be had we been left on a deserted island to grow up alone. A chicken is still a natural born killer had she been raised alone. Me? I would not be me had I been.
What predispositions do I possess and which ones are socially taught. Would I laugh? I would not know what funny is! Do I possess compassion naturally? How do I come about learning danger, things that are harmful vs things that are good and nurturing? And just what the fuck is happiness? Love?
The human condition is that we learn by experience the good with the bad. Certainly a book, blog or documentary can inform you or give you ideas on how to try and manage your surroundings but the truth is the world in which we live is there doing what it does and the only thing we can control is ourselves and what we do.
I read a blog today that reminded me of myself, a time when I knew I was being unreasonable but I managed some control and pulled myself away from the situation to pick it apart – not pick myself or other people apart – and try to understand why I was feeling what I was feeling. Oh what great relief it is when one realizes ‘I felt that way because’ instead of ‘It is all their fault’
I am not complaining, as painful as it is to read some blog entries because of their pure emotion; I continue to read on in the hopes for a surprise ending. I laugh when people try to tell the world they write a blog for themselves as I read it. As with my birds I start to root for someone to succeed and like the moth I lament when they fail.