You change the moment you witness a murder. Not through the safe filter of a screen, but directly in front of you. Less than ten feet away and on your left-hand side, both times. What are the chances of such occurrences happening to one person twice?
The killers were a hawk and a weasel.
The First Time
I was sitting in my car at the grocery store parking lot. Just outside my door, where I would end up if I got out, was a pigeon. Such a cute little pigeon, with remarkable feathers that I have never noticed that the creatures possessed. Purple glints shimmered on its surface as it tilted its beady-eyed head. It looked at me, right in the face, then continued to peck at the gravel.
There was a blur. Then a confusion of flurried wings. My eyes widen as my mouth opened in shocked revulsion. My little bird that I was admiring seconds before was being crushed under the force of a hawk’s claws and beak. I turned away as I swallowed not wanting to see the rest of it. I waited till the predator carried off its prize before I finally got out of the car.
I was disturbed, even though, deli-sliced turkey was written near the top of my shopping list.
The Second Time
Bunnies can scream. I know this because I witnessed one’s sad demise.
I was walking down the driveway and the bushes shivered as the rabbit darted in front of me. It was unaware or undisturbed by my quiet presence. It had bigger problems to worry about, for a determined killer almost half its size was closing in on it.
The pair for a moment dashed back into the underbrush. They popped back out directly and this time the weasel had the advantage. The devilish thing flipped the plump bunny on its back and bit down on its neck. They writhed as the weasel’s tail coiled around its catch.
A scream pierced my soul and I almost cried. It was so unexpected, that shrill abject noise. I had no idea that such a mild looking thing could produce such a sound.
I started to flee the scene. The killer, just realizing my presence, dragged its prey back into the bushes out of sight.
Nature is harsh they say. The circle of life must continue and you deal with it. I can’t help but wonder how the pigeon and the rabbit felt about it though.
In conclusion and in the light of these experiences I have learned that I am an easily traumatized hypocrite.