Oh, Flo…

I take a lot of photos of sweet and beautiful animals, but I do feel a moral responsibility sometimes to write about the other side of life here on my farm and in my world, the real live of real animals.

We have pets and we have animals, and the two things are very, very different. For all the hysteria and rage and romanticizing of “the wild,” life in nature is perhaps the most brutal and difficult path for most animals..

Last night, Maria and I sat out on the back lawn and watch three baby rabbits run back and forth out in the pasture, so full of life and fun, as animal babies often are. We watched them for a half an hour until their mother came out of the marsh and called them to safety.

This morning, we came out onto the back porch and there was Flo, our barn cat, sitting with one of the bunnies on the porch, she had just killed it and brought it to us, one of those moments where you see into the souls of cats, and realize how unique they are, what an amazing combination of love and murder.

“Oh, Flo….”, I heard myself saying, I have seen a lot of life and death on the farm and in my life with animals, but I have to be honest, this one cut me and got to the heart. The rabbit was so soft, and just yesterday, so full of life and fun. Flo was not interested in eating him, she did not seem interested in him at all, she just killed the baby rabbit because it is in her nature, just as it was in Simon’s nature to try and harm Rocky, our blind pony, and drive him away from the other donkeys.

Simon was just being a donkey. Flo was just being a cat. Still, it is hard sometimes to see this and I thought, in fairness, I ought to share it, I don’t want the blog to only be about cute pictures of happy animals. Mark Twain wrote that the fear of death follows the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

There is some truth to this, I think. I am living fully, I am not prepared to die at any time, but I do believe in facing the reality and idea of death, and not hiding from it, as our society teaches us to do. On a farm, there is life and death all of the time. You learn to consider it, to accept it, not just to hide or run from it.

We all know we are going to die, that our precious time in this world is very limited. Yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone or something we know. I suppose Maria and I were not prepared to see this very cute and alive bunny rabbit lying dead at our footsteps just hours after we so enjoyed seeing him (or her) romping joyously through our pasture, playing tag with one another.

And then, life goes on. I wanted to scold Flo, but didn’t. I need and wish to love her for who she is, not for who I might prefer her to be. I accept death and honor it, it came to the rabbit, it will come to me. We took the rabbit out to the rear pasture and left it to the animals of the woods, it will be gone by nightfall.

To love animals is to accept them. They are not like us, they are not our children, or brothers and sisters. They are a world apart and must be loved for that, if they are to be loved at all.

I said a few words to the rabbit: “Rabbit, thanks for entertaining us yesterday, and my wish for you is that you will soon be in another pasture, where you can run to the ends of the earth, with no cats or hawks or coyotes or foxes to take your life again.”