Patches of blue

Like “love”, I think the word “hate” is used far too freely. I may sometimes describe something or someone as hateful, but I avoid saying that I hate.

It was never possible for me to hate even people who caused me pain, because hatred is something that gets inside you and eats you up. Like acid, it will corrode your innards. Few people are inherently evil.

There is almost always a reason for bad behaviour and it helped me to understand that.

If you cannot tolerate such individuals, it is best to distance yourself from them and if this is not possible, at least ban them from your thoughts. It is not easy and I cannot claim to have been terribly successful at it, which is why I battled depression for a long time.

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With the benefit of hindsight however, I was able to see my faux-pas. – allowing myself to be bullied and manipulated.

But at least I never allowed myself to hate.

This morning, although I still will not allow it to take up residence in my heart, the word floated through my brain after reading a headline from the New York Times:

Home on the Range No More: Trump Wants Bison Gone

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The Trump administration is evicting bison herds from federal grasslands in Montana, siding with ranchers and Republican leaders over environmentalists and tribal leaders.

As a child, I was called sentimental every time I cried over an animal, as if I was mentally deficient in some way, but I believe it is those who do not appreciate and care for other species who are deficient.

Deficient in spirit, in empathy and love and even common sense.

Where would we be without the others who share this planet? Each species that we eliminate diminishes us. Whether or not it is apparent on the surface, we are all interdependent. I have never been good at arguing my case, so I got this from AI:

“Animals depend on physical conditions (climate, water, shelter) and biotic factors (food, predators) for survival. In turn, they continually shape their habitats through behaviours like grazing, seed dispersal, building dams, and cycling nutrients back into the ecosystem.”

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What else can that man desecrate?

No doubt, if he had the ability, he would pluck the Sun from the sky and call it his own.

He revolts me, but I do not hate him. Perhaps I might pity him, but he is not worth the effort. I don’t even care if he ever gets held accountable for his misdeeds.

The only thing I hope for is to live to see the time when he is gone.

There is no chance I will get to see our recovery.

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Sorry. I just had to get that off my chest.

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Thinking of those magnificent creatures sent me to my bookcase.

Leaving Washington, I was obliged to abandon the majority of my books, but I could not bring myself to leave behind the many animal stories I have accumulated over my life.

If I was sentimental as a child, I never grew out of it and as I aged I found myself even more easily driven to tears by a sad story, or often a story that was not sad but simply moving. It reached a point where I could no longer read that sort of book, but I am stronger emotionally now, so I was wondering if perhaps I might try again.

After random glances at the above book, my eyes began to water, so perhaps not!

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Scrolling through my recent photographs reminded me that I had not posted the picture of another visitor. I can’t say that they are rare because in winter we frequently see their tracks, but they do not often show themselves.

This pretty bunny was feeding one morning on corn left over from Grant’s nightly offering.

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That same day when we checked out the fox burrow on the way to Greenwich a sweet new little face peered at us.

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Today, the first hummingbird arrived.

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And approved the new feeder.

So now everyone is back.

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Like patches of blue in a dark sky, wild friends lift heavy hearts.

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