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A man walked in a park and found a Flying Squirrel, Bat, and a woodpeker crying.
He asked what was wrong?
they cried
"The old hollow tree that was our home is gone."
Speaking of flying squirrels...not one, not two, but three of the cute little rascals are regular nighttime visitors to my feeders. They are reasonably unafraid of humans and don't mind soft light. I can approach within a couple of feet. They are a real treat to watch with their big, lemur-like eyes and rapid movements.
When I proceeded to cut the tree down a concerned 'CITIZEN'.
That's a cool word. But she came over and told me I was Wrong for cutting the tree down. So I simply explained it was for a baby owl. 'its ok'. Not sure why she gave me a strange look and walked away.
I'd guess because you decided to chop down a tree in a park. Most parks have rules. Did you check the rules or is your OK sufficient?
Speaking of flying squirrels...not one, not two, but three of the cute little rascals are regular nighttime visitors to my feeders. They are reasonably unafraid of humans and don't mind soft light. I can approach within a couple of feet. They are a real treat to watch with their big, lemur-like eyes and rapid movements.
I have found the Eastern and Northern Flying Squirrels to be very docile and not likely to bite even if caught to get out of the house. Did that many times in CT when I would find them in the attic. Never had one even try to bite.
Tried that with one I find in the house in Louisiana that cute little critter bit me in places I did not even know I had. I looked like I had lost an argument with a chain saw.
This is what turtle taught.
SACRIFICE.
If I told the whole story . You would know we were looking after each other.
AS old turtle spoke we ignored her wisdom.
She was telling us that we all carry our home with us.
In no way do I condone ignorance.
I have been given the name plant herder by my dad.
When I see bull dozers clearing land my spirit Ache's
As it always will like the turtle.
But I know Spirit will always be alive in sacrifice.
As our ancestors told what they knew they held the turtle shell.
Now I pass it to another in the circle.
This has been an interesting discussion. It reminded me of this poem I read in high school 50 years ago.
It was written by Henry Reed.
LIVES
You cannot cage a field.
You cannot wire it, as you wire a summer's roses
To sell in towns; you cannot cage it
Or kill it utterly. All you can do is to force
Year after year from the stream to the cold woods
The heavy glitter of wheat, till its body tires
And the yield grows weaker and dies. But the field never dies,
Though you build on it, burn it black, or domicile
A thousand prisoners upon its empty features.
You cannot kill a field. A field will reach
Right under the streams to touch the limbs of its brothers.
But you can cage the woods.
You can throw up fences, as round a recalcitrant heart
Spring up remonstrances.
You can always cage the woods,
Hold them completely. Confine them to hill or valley,
You can alter their face, their shape; uprooting their outer
saplings
You can even alter their wants, and their smallest longings
Press to your own desires. The woods succumb
To the paths made through their life, withdraw the trees,
Betake themselves where you tell them, and acquiesce.
The woods retreat; their protest of leaves whirls
Pitifully to the cooling heavens, like dead or dying prayers.
But what can you do with a stream?
You can widen it here, or deepen it there, but even
If you alter its course entirely it gives the impression
That this is what it always wanted. Moorhens return
To nest or hide in the reeds which quickly grow up there,
The fishes breed in it, stone settles on to stone.
The stream announces its places where the water will bubble
Daily and unconcerned, contentedly ruffling and scuffling
With the drifting sky or the leaf. Whatever you do,
A stream has rights, for a stream is always water;
To cross it you have to bridge it; and it will not flow uphill.
Bruce Lee..
“You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip and it can crash. Become like water my friend.”
If I told the whole story . You would know we were looking after each other.
My guess is the woman in the park was looking after what was IN the park. That tree was part of the ecosystem. She was right to question you. I'd have done the same thing. You chose to take a tree. Someone else takes another. Someone else takes another. Each claiming you had a good reason for taking what was there for ALL. And what once was.... is no more.
My ancestors taught me to leave the wild things as they were found.
Last edited by DewDropInn; 09-16-2014 at 07:41 PM..
My guess is the woman in the park was looking after what was IN the park. That tree was part of the ecosystem. She was right to question you. I'd have done the same thing. You chose to take a tree. Someone else takes another. Someone else takes another. Each claiming you had a good reason for taking what was there for ALL. And what once was.... is no more.
My ancestors taught me to leave the wild things as they were found.
Well then leave it be .
So stay still and wait till the coal of you spirit hisses.
Then tell us the song of what is quiet.
I thought this was a sacred circle.
A circle to reflect the fire.
WE should all reflect the fire.
Memory is precious and something to share.
I will confess .
My little bro thought ants without sting cannot hurt. So I told him he was wrong. And then he stomped them till he realized.
The red and black leaf cutters can kick pretty hard.
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