The Horror in Nature

Posted: May 5, 2013 in The Bone Yard
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Here’s a question for you, my fellow indies and horror fans. What makes a committed animal lover wish she could gleefully murder every raccoon and muskrat in her town? This does:

HorrorofNature

What the hell is that, exactly? That was my beautiful Sunday morning going up in smoke and ash. Besides that, it’s a goose egg. And the Mama Goose who has spent the last six weeks nurturing the eggs is now gone. I didn’t witness her abandoning the nest and the one egg that wasn’t eaten, but I know from experience what she would have sounded like. She would have honked long and slow and sounded a bit like I do when I cry really, really hard.

A muskrat skull from the Virginia Aquarium & M...

A muskrat skull from the Virginia Aquarium & Marine Science Center (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mama Goose represented something to me. Her eggs represented something. Mama goose came along and made her nest too early in the spring, when the weather was still unforgiving and dangerous. She gathered grass and built it up along the edge of the pond on which my home sits. Early spring downpours bullied her head and threatened to drown her babies and still she sat there, keeping them warm, crying that cry she would make when she was scared, when she was more Mama than Goose. And now she’s gone. Her babies are gone. Papa Goose is gone. And why for? So some glorified varmint could have one meal.

I get that the varmint was only serving its nature. I get that it needs to eat, too. I get all that.

And yet, I can’t stop my skin from trying to crawl off my bones, now. I can’t rewind the morning and prevent the shock and disappointment I felt to awake and discover Mama Goose gone and the shells of her eggs, still lined with blood, scattered about my back yard.

Nature is horrific. And this was one horror show I could have done without.

Until next time, fellows, protect your Under-Bellies from the hungry Varmints. Because they will steal your eggs from right under your noses.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s