We had some sad news about the death of a good friend and colleague who died in a river rafting trip in Alaska. The authorities are still looking for his body. His death is a devastating blow to a great many people in Alaska. For this reason I’m going to wait to write about him. I will let other of his friends memorialize him, before I write my two cents about this great man.
A day after we were informed of our friends death I saw this bobcat hunting in the field near our house. For some reason I can’t get it out of my mind.
Forgive me for my bad video. I had watched the cat for about fifteen minutes before I even thought of taking a photo. I sat with Dot on a comfortable bench that overlooks the field and watched the Bobcat hunt. It’s main prey in that part of the field was gophers. The cat had it’s tufted ears erect as it paced forward. Occasionally it stood up on it’s hind legs then pounced face first into a mound of earth. Three times it came up with one of the rodents and then sat down to eat. Once it came quite close to where Dot an I were sitting while it tore into it’s meal. We were close enough to hear the bones crunch, and it sent shivers down my spine.
The Bobcat was beautiful and again I’m sorry that my video doesn’t do it justice. It appeared well fed, it’s muscles well defined. It’s head was much larger in proportion to its body compared to a house cat’s physique. Up close it seemed fierce. I can only imagine watching much larger cats; an African Lion or a Puma: steady eyes and no sign of skittishness or fear when wandering close to human beings. The much smaller Bobcat shared these qualities with the larger cats. They project their penchant for hunting and killing. The wild cat’s eyes express the outrider of death. In their expression there is no ambivalence whether it be for Wildebeest, Mountain Goat or Gopher, big cats are predators and Wildebeest, Mountain Goats and Gophers are food.
When a friend dies suddenly people are apt to say things like: At least they died what they loved doing. But I doubt anyone ever said such a thing about a gopher. I imagine the gophers I heard being crunched up were just going about their regular old day to day hard work of being a gopher. When the lunge came I expect they had enough time to think something akin to “Oh, wait” and they are spared the details of being consumed.
When humans die no matter how much time they had to consider the possibility. I suspect the moment comes down to the “Oh. Wait…” thought and then one last reflexive big breath in order to hold off death, then the gradual long exhalation and and the relaxation of all feeling. Death, when it comes is indifferent. It doesn’t care what you were doing. We care but to death it is immaterial whether you were walking through the Louvre or were digging a ditch in rocky ground.
It used to bother me a great deal after I realized that death is served up either one of two ways: either suddenly, or gradually. But it really doesn’t matter in the long run. Death comes, how it will and when it does I’m betting it seems sudden no matter if you are 19 years old and losing control of your motorcycle or if you are ninety eight years old succumbing to physical exhaustion.
Maybe gophers are fine with their small sudden death. I don’t know maybe it feels like an extension of their normal unexciting grubbing around life. Maybe they are happy for it when it arrives. Maybe I will feel that way whatever happens in my last moments.
At least I hope so.
Here is a poem I wrote this week:
