Dog and bird

It started out, as they say, simple enough.

I was on the back deck basking in the warmth of a warmer than normal late autumn afternoon sun and quietly contemplating the Gandhian principle, “Sarvodaya”.

This was because a distant neighbour Jane had just buried her dog at Windgrove and I was thinking about the emotional pain and loss she was experiencing for her beloved Irish springer spaniel.

Sarvodaya recognises the intrinsic value of all life, human and other than human; all people, all plants, all animals, the entire Earth. All life. No privilege and no monopoly; everything should be shared.

It seemed appropriate, therefore, to let Jane bury her friend and companion of twelve years on a plot of land at Windgrove that faced the setting sun and overlooked Roaring Beach. It was a simple sharing and a simple acknowledgement that this dog had been well loved.

So, there I was, tea cup in hand, sipping and pondering the goodness of shared love that arises when humans can connect on a deep level to the more-than-human world, when a Brown Goshawk, a medium sized raptor, glided over the treetops and into view, about ten meters/thirty feet away.

It never beat a wing; rather, just slowly moved along sideways, forwards, backwards, all the while looking down.

Because of the day’s activities and feeling a bit Gandhian and open-minded, I looked at the bird and said out loud: “Hey, friend, give me a message.”

The bird pivoted 90 degrees and came gliding directly towards me. Right at the zenith, with me looking straight up at the hawk, and the hawk looking straight down at me, it stuck it’s legs straight down as if to brake itself and let loose with a stream of shit. Only because of forward momentum did the stuff not hit me squarely on the head; instead landing on the roof behind.

But I got the message.

And laughed aloud. It really was a funny sight seeing those thin taloned legs splayed straight out and forward.

Maybe this is how they always take a crap in order not to dirty their feet?