A short story for today, about how a stroll would give rise to defining life, and existence. What this means to be living…or not.
I was out for the morning pull this morning with the two beasts. Not so much walk, more of a pull. Put them both in harnesses like work horses, hook on two leashes, open the door and off they go. The pull.
The strength of two 35 pound Frenchies can be amazing. These two are all muscle, spending half their day asleep, the other half at 90 miles an hour, running from the front door to the back. Chasing each other for possession of the prized toy of the moment.
I have managed to get them to stay, and walk easy. Walk easy, walk easy, walk easy. The neighbors must know we’re coming from blocks away. Nowadays it’s only a few blocks out and back, my legs beginning to fail me.
But they are happy to get out of the house, one sniffing every spot another dog has been, the other happy to keep to the sidewalk and move straight ahead.
We took the usual route this morning, out of the subdivision, down the block to cross the street and head north. The small Baptist church sits on the corner of this junction, their yard with 3 big trees a prime spot for chasing squirrels.
There’s a huge tree just on the corner, shading the church from the east sun. The tree workers for the utility companies have trimmed all the trees so the power lines can run right through them. Almost like a big heart in green, with a hole running through it, pierced by an arrow of cables..
On this particular day a squirrel was happy to lay straddled on the branch running over the sidewalk, taking in the sun. More than happy to lay there and chirp at the two dogs below, taking delight in knowing they can’t get him. Tormenting them with glee.
So now I was the puller, dragging the two hounds away from the tree to continue our walk. So we made it 2 blocks, and I began to question if I could make it back home, wishing I could skate to have the two pull me back to safety. It was time to turn around.
We retraced our steps heading back to the church and when we were 50 feet away I noticed the squirrel still laying there, barking for all the other squirrels to know he’s king of this tree.
His barking proved to be his undoing. The moment he raised his head up for his next round, a huge flash of brown came out of nowhere, sunk its talons through the back of the helpless creature and flew off with it’s victim.
A red-tailed hawk. These hawks are plentiful back in Kansas, sitting on fence posts and dead trees across the land. I was more than familiar with them. They have a good population in this city, and I know of mated pairs of hawks at several locations throughout my travels. The odd dead one on the side of the road or highway.
This one must have been one of the pair that live in this area, you can hear them as they cry out to each other from the sky as they hover looking for prey. Squirrels, rats, and rabbits should be mindful at all times.
I was in awe seeing this majestic bird as it took its prey, dropping slightly from the sudden added weight of the squirrel but spreading its wings once more, flying half a block away into a large cedar. It sat for a moment, eviscerating the animal with its sharp peak, then took to the air with the meal gripped in one deadly foot.
Where to? I lost sight of it over the trees and rooftops. Feeding its young perhaps, or just a meal for itself in a safer environment. I couldn’t be sure, could only guess.
That moment was the epitome of what it means to exist. One minute you’re enjoying your moment barking at the world, and the next second you’re gone. Our existence is no different.