The Last Supper

Never do I feel so alone in the world as when I am mourning a beaver.  Nor do I feel more that I must come from a different place and time.  A beaver was killed.  And it was my beaver, somewhat.  Part of Wood Thrush Ridge is a 9-acre lake...Bream Hole Lake (after my boys' first swim in this lake, we re-named it Lake Leech).  But it is not my lake alone.  My land deed shows I own one edge of Lake Leech; the other edges are owned by 5 other land owners.  Recently, a beaver showed up in this lake, where of course one would...it is water surrounded by delicious trees.  And here is where my aloneness comes in:  I alone think the lake belongs to the beavers (and all other creatures), not to the people who have it drawn on their land deed.  I cannot tell you how solitary this thinking is in my community.  But it is my core belief that this is the land of the animals, and I am on THEIR land...they are not on MY land.  I am just lucky enough to share it with them.

When I was very young, I came across Chief Seattle's poem and the line "We did not create the web of life, we are merely a strand in it".  It settled into my psyche like a stone in soft mud, and lies there still.  So when I heard that the neighbors were out at night to shoot the beaver, I was devastated.  Why does the neighbors' wanting to kill automatically override my wanting to protect?  I understand there are trees in yards that
people want to keep.  But hardware-cloth wrap seems such an easy solution to me....I cannot fathom thinking instead,  "Oh my tree has been chewed, let's kill the beaver".   And likewise, the beaver killers cannot fathom why on God's green earth I would want to let the beavers stay.

We are the only species on the planet that kills out of choice.  A human could go, if it wanted to, from birth to death without killing a single animal.  No other meat-eating animal can do that.  The cheetah on the Kalahari cannot think, "Man, I am craving some meat today, I think I'll off a tommy."  The cheetah has no choice...it must kill or die.  This is what separates me from most of the people here in Tennessee, that I deeply know this: all killing by a human is a conscious choice.  And I myself cannot, in good conscious,  choose to kill  (except a flea).  Thankfully, there are enough food choices at Kroger that I do not have to.  Now if it was 200 years ago and my family was starving, that would be a whole other waxy ball.

For the beaver, I am so sorry I am only one of six.  If it was my lake alone, you would be welcome to be the architect of nature that you are.  You would be able to do your thing in peace, and I would marvel at watching all that you can do.  You are not the first beaver to die here, and you will not be the last.  I wish I could have protected you from the the others who choose to kill you, instead of calling you Kin.