Bosque del Apache, New Mexico They are out there. By the billion they are. You might not hear them or see them, perhaps because you have learned not to, but rest assured they exist. Both predator and prey, are on the move guided by internal command and communication, much of which is still a mystery. Travelers on a global scale. Tenacious. Driven yet susceptible to the marvels of the modern world.
The new iPhone, the kids to daycare, a refinance, a national championship game, or a quick trip to Cabo, are endeavors that permeate the fabric of our lives. Commitments, both real and imagined, are like frosting on the cake of responsibility. Distractions and deeds form a protective barrier between us and the natural world. But out there in the darkness where life and death live in the flicker of shadow or the split second of a dropped guard, what’s left of the natural world moves on, hoping more than anything else that we pay heed.
Our existence, in great part, is about the interface, and the translation that must occur for us, all of us, and them, to have a chance, any chance, at making good, making right, and securing a semblance of the future.
Out here in the dust and sun and burning cold we find the front lines of the battle for harmony, the battle between progress and survival, feather and finance, the whoosh of wing flap, and the tingling smell of diesel fuel. A Celtics cap, a Native American blanket, fur boots, rare Earth metals, pop top campers, and frozen fingers. Vapor of exhalation and vapors of the land before us. Our worlds were not meant to collide, but here we are braced against the morning sun, arms outstretched, optics firing at all ranges. Heels in the dirt dug in for the spectacle before us.