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Yesterday, I saw a photo of a little red wren and I smiled. That pretty, delicate little creature was hopping about doing what it does best and it seemed blissfully unaware of what the world seems to think it is confronting. It was so nice to smile again. 

I see images of cats and dogs, romping, sleeping, enjoying the sunshine and the joy of life and that magnificent wonder of being alive.

How the hell have we humans got it so wrong?

Here is the image that struck me. It was posted here on this blog.

Look at that little bird and consider that it is just doing what it wants to do and needs to do and gets on with things like eating, drinking and chirping. 

Such simplistic things in the scheme of life. When I wake up in the morning, I may be fortunate enough to see a bush turkey rummaging around and checking out what grubs might be on the breakfast menu.

Or a lorrikeet cruising in for the early morning brekkie buffet of nectar from the callistemons that thrive outside my small apartment. I may hear the murder of crows that wake me up at dawn and tease Redhead's Jack Russell outside her window. 

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If I am fortunate, I may share a broken sleep with a gecko that has decided to pop in and race around my walls all bloody night and wake me up with its constant squeaking.

I share my humble abode with a geriatric feline who refuses to make me a cup of tea or lift a paw to help me in my day to day life because she is too busy being idle.

Bridget is too busy contemplating life, the universe and her next meal to worry about covid, climate change, war in Afghanistan or the mental decline of the leader of the free world.

As long as she is housed, fed, watered, given cream and loved, she is just fine and dandy.

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Redhead's little old aged pensioner Jack Russell ( whose name must not be mentioned )  sleeps in one of his two heated beds, dines on his home cooked food and hrows his toys all over Redhead's house - something I was never allowed to do as a child by the way - and never worries about a thing because Redhead has it covered.

Malcolm Kirke shares his home with two cats who give him grocery lists and sit back in the sun awaiting his return from the grocery store with their order for food and treats. 

MEGGSIE AND TABATHA

Ginger Megs is still up to his old tricks... 

 

Bruce has young / old Scooter who diligently cares for Iris while Bruce is free to have a yarn on line. 

Peter Mack, the one armed chainsaw massacre survivor lives with a farting, burping and thoroughly disreputable dog named Digger and has doubled his food bill - all in the interests of animal rescue and his own salvation.

Meanwhile, dolphins dive, whales migrate, birds sing and geckos squeak and dogs and cats sleep and eat while we panic over the end of life because someone told us to be afraid of a thing called covid.

 

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That image of that lovely bird brought me down to earth with a thud.

The animal kingdom is moving on with life, as it has always been ordained and the only species that is worried is us.

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Why? Because we are superior and our brains are better, more illustrious and superior?

Or is it because the animal kingdom knows, accepts and recognises that life goes on no matter what and a political or man-made catastrophe is just that : man-made.

While we are collapsing in a state of economic and cultural decline; trying to manipulate our species with sexual dysphoria and fear of pretty much EVERYTHING, the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees and the cats and the dogs are all just getting on with life.

Maybe we need to just look to nature and accept that life goes on and death is inevitable. 

But, in the meantime, we can cruise in, drink some nectar, have a snooze and play with a ball and enjoy life. 

 

No matter what. Death gets you in the end. 

We may as well enjoy life and be like that precious little bird and rejoice in the dawn and the sunset and be thankful for a day well lived. 

By the way, Birds and bees don't have politicians. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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