Life Without Animals

 

For the past two weeks, I haven’t seen any rabbits at the cabin. Because I see so few animals in the winter, I miss the rabbits’ presence. In the winter, it’s just the chickarees and rabbits that stick it out, while the ground squirrels and chipmunks hibernate.

The chickarees keep me entertained with their rushing to and fro, while the rabbits have a sweetness and calmness that belie their predicament. I read recently that scientists studying hares in the northern Rockies found the animals live on average one year. Being on the bottom of the food chain makes for a short life. Have all the rabbits here been eaten or starved to death in a winter where the snow has remained on the ground since October?

I miss them; they’ve kept me company all winter long. I know their deaths are part of the natural process, but around the globe animals are disappearing at alarming rates due to less natural forces—loss of habitat and climate change, among other reasons.

What would the world be like if we lost our wild animals?  Strictly speaking, we don’t need wildlife. Most humans, aside from some indigenous people, live in a totally domesticated world that provides all our biological needs: water, food, shelter.

And yet I think we emotionally need wildlife; it takes us out of ourselves and into another world that is different than our own. People are drawn to wild animals. You can see that every autumn, when thousands come to Rocky Mountain National Park to see and hear the elk bugling. Last summer, while hiking in the park, a friend and I discovered a moose standing in a pond right off the trail (top), and within a few minutes a crowd had formed, all of us whispering excitedly to each other, as if something unbelievable had descended from the heavens.

Maybe we’re drawn to things that are wild because we have lost our wildness and want to rekindle that extinguished part of ourselves. Or maybe we’re drawn to wild animals because their lives are so much closer to the edge than ours. For most of us, life is predictable, while most wild animals struggle daily to eat or be eaten. So when we cross paths with an elk or bald eagle or even rabbit, we can vicariously feel the thrill of that other existence (without being eaten).

A couple of weeks ago, I was excited to see a red fox in my backyard in Boulder (above), even though it could have eaten the birds and squirrels that I tempt with bird seed. But it was something from the other side of the fence, from the open space beyond my suburban yard and too tamed life. If we lost the wild animals, it means we lost whatever shreds of wilderness are left. And that would mean that there would be no chance of existence beyond our everyday and increasingly programmed lives.

Comments

[Julene]

Thank you for these beautiful pictures, Kathy, coupled with beautifully rendered, sad thoughts. Our spirits need these visions of wildness as much as our bodies need food.

[Jotham]

On emotionally needing wildlife, I saw on national geographic tv these two wolverines being filmed across a vast area. Amazing shots, and seeing them trek toward the smell of blood just made me think of them alone and surviving out there, unbothered by civilization. and it made me feel like so much is possible.

[Sally]

We have many needs and for me that includes the animals!! Thanks for this beautiful piece!