The Circle of Life

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.





Weird experience with a lawn mower and an umbrella.

Clever remarks only come to me when the proper moment for them has grown cold. When I’m on my lonesome, turning the event over in my mind, I whisper them to myself in triumph. Chagrin immediately crowds the transitory pleasure of coming up with something.

The Event That Could Have Gone Better

Today I was helping my Dad mow a lawn. It was raining and I was commissioned to operate a riding mower. So being myself, I regarded comfort over pride unconsciously and propped an umbrella between my knees as I zigzagged over the lawn. This method, though undignified, effectively kept me dry.

Of course I knew that my decision would create a humorous image, but the thought didn’t surface in time for me to heed this fact.

Movement drew my attention to the street and I caught an outline of a man moving behind a fence. Thinking nothing of it, I completed another turn. Finished, I parked the mower and got up.

As I shut down the engine I saw the same man with his phone tilted in photo mode. At first it did not occur to me that he was trying to take a picture of me in my awkward situation. When he walked up to me I asked him if I could do anything for him.

“Uh, yeah. I missed the chance to get a picture.” He gestured toward the lawnmower.

“What? Are you serious?” I replied, my brows furrowed.

“It’s kinda funny to see someone mow a lawn with an umbrella here. Can you just sit on the mower again so I can take one really quick? Otherwise my friends will never believe me.”

Finally realizing what he was asking, I turned beet red and started to stumble over silly words mixed with giggles. “Yeah, sure.” I plopped back on the lawnmower seat and steadied the umbrella.

For some reason I felt like I needed to explain myself. “I don’t like getting wet,” I said lamely.

I shielded my face and he captured the scene. At this point I was trying to figure out why I obliged so readily to his request and I slumped in embarrassment as he walked away.

Upon reflection I wish I handled this situation with a little bit more grace and humor. I imagine myself saying something clever like, “I know I’m a spectacle, but I didn’t expect to draw a paparazzi.” I would then grin brazenly into the camera. As he thanks me I would tell him that I hope his friends get a kick out of it.

So if you ever see a picture depicting this event floating around the internet… That’s me.