Photo by Cecelia Helen Barrett
9/11/13
9/10/13
The Hunt
Three adolescent cheetahs rise from their resting place among a cluster of papery blades of grass. These particular cats are siblings, Girard, our guide, informs us. Very recently parted from their mother, they are young and inexperienced, and very, very vulnerable. We follow them closely as they walk up the road, the jeep's engine purring at barely more than an idle. They are so close that I am able to notice the texture of their fur without the aid of binoculars. Having observed a mother and two cubs the day before, I recognize the telltale fluff around their faces and on the back of their necks, yet their bodies are stringy and lean. Like our cats at home when agitated, their tails flash back and forth as they walk. I worry that the wheels crunching gravel and our whispering behind them are the cause of their departure, but Girard insists that they are "used to the vehicles." They are up to something, he tells us. The siblings are on the prowl.
9/8/13
to qualify
my definition of "divine" . . .
In short:
What I don't know.
What I can't know.
What I don't necessarily want to know
yet feel an irresistible urge to ponder.
In short:
What I don't know.
What I can't know.
What I don't necessarily want to know
yet feel an irresistible urge to ponder.
My heavy limbs.
A delicious dessert.
The amber eyes of a cheetah.
Photo by Cecelia Helen Barrett
9/6/13
Singita
"Singita," reputedly a Burmese term meaning "place of miracles" — or, according to Webster's, "divine intervention in human affairs." Hmmm ...
I like to think that what I witnessed at Kruger was divine because of my own irrelevancy, but I suspect this is not the case. As I bumped and bounced along the very carefully mapped two-track roads of the Singita Lebombo concession, I was acutely aware that I was trespassing — intervening in the affairs of animals. Only the vehicle in which I rode, and the rifle mounted above the dash, permitted such adventure. Although we tried hard to be respectful, we humans — myself, my family, the trackers and guides — imposed.
It's true, humans have existed among these animals for a very long time; however, whether on foot or on wheels, armed with spear, intellect, or camera, humans have always intervened in the affairs of animals. Some assert that this dynamic is divine — that humans, like animals, are governed by forces beyond our control. Certainly I admit this possibility.
Certain mornings, my limbs are heavy as lead. The result of poor diet — the bag of chocolate Kisses I consumed the night before — or perhaps it is gravity, the moon, or high tide. Whatever the cause, my limbs are still lead. It is this feeling — the physical sensation, good or bad, along with the astounding array of possible causes — that for me is divine.
I like to think that what I witnessed at Kruger was divine because of my own irrelevancy, but I suspect this is not the case. As I bumped and bounced along the very carefully mapped two-track roads of the Singita Lebombo concession, I was acutely aware that I was trespassing — intervening in the affairs of animals. Only the vehicle in which I rode, and the rifle mounted above the dash, permitted such adventure. Although we tried hard to be respectful, we humans — myself, my family, the trackers and guides — imposed.
It's true, humans have existed among these animals for a very long time; however, whether on foot or on wheels, armed with spear, intellect, or camera, humans have always intervened in the affairs of animals. Some assert that this dynamic is divine — that humans, like animals, are governed by forces beyond our control. Certainly I admit this possibility.
Certain mornings, my limbs are heavy as lead. The result of poor diet — the bag of chocolate Kisses I consumed the night before — or perhaps it is gravity, the moon, or high tide. Whatever the cause, my limbs are still lead. It is this feeling — the physical sensation, good or bad, along with the astounding array of possible causes — that for me is divine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)