I Might Hate Nature; or the Silence of the Squirrels

I am not, by experience, interest, or sentiment, a nature lover.

I like nature fine, as long as it stays out there while I am…here.

But when it knocks on my door window, in the wilds suburban blandness of the Northeast Bronx, I tend to take notice.

“I heard a strange noise. It was screaming. Some kind of screaming, like a child’s voice….I went outside. I was so scared to look…but I had to.”

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I don’t know what it wanted, what it needed, or if there was something I could do. I just wanted it to stop. As is our human prerogative, I did nothing.

Did I really do nothing?

Or, did I perhaps harness my post-traumatic-stress from animal-based auditory assault into the strength and will needed to take down a psychotic killer by doing a psychological tango with yet another maniacal genius:

This experience with the squirrel evoked yet another memory, not one of my own, but from one the collective human consciousness.

You see, it struck me that this was just like that time when valiant humans overcame and tamed the wild beasts that stood as obstacles to their quest for peaceful existence:

Tangling with nature is tough.

But sometimes, sometimes humans win.
 

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***No squirrels, lambs, birds, or humans were harmed in the writing of this blog post.