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Julie My Love hates spiders. She would just as soon crush one with the heel of a shoe than remain within its lurking presence. I can’t abide by that, and so we have agreed that if she should find one within our home, I will remove it - alive and intact - to the outdoors. But I was not always so respectful of life.
As a boy, I collected dangerous things: throwing stars, a ninja sword, a B.B. gun, and a crossbow pistol among them. One day, I spotted a dove out back of our house, and thought it would be fun to kill it with that crossbow. My father asked why I was arming myself to go outside, and when I explained my intention, he exploded with fury.
I don’t recall his words, but the visceral sanguinity of his reaction to his son’s killing instinct instantly and profoundly altered me. While I cannot live my own life without sacrificing that of others - the cow in my hamburger, the bug on my windshield, or the paper that I write upon - I have done my best since that day to avoid it.
Today, as I walked through a Chinese farmers’ market, I came across a hawk, tightly bound by mesh and cage - an icon of fettered pride - struggling against its undeniable fate. At ¥180 - about $25, and more than double the nightly rate of my upscale downtown hotel room - it was a luxury beyond the palette of all but the most affluent local gourmands, and me - a relatively wealthy American tourist.
I attempted, in my extremely limited and mostly incomprehensible Mandarin, to barter down the seller, but she would not budge. In a final bargaining bluff, I walked away, hoping she would hail me back with an enticing counter-offer. When she didn’t, I knew I could not allow this winged majesty to die for the price of a grande latte, and so I circled back around and paid her the full amount. She bound and bagged the bird, all terrible talons and malicious maw, and I cradled it in careful hands back to my eighth floor room.
There at the open window, high above the manic streets, I delicately removed the raptor’s bonds, and as the feathers on its crown splayed in noble protest, I recognized that same intractable love of life that my father had shown me two decades before. With its restraints removed, I thrust the yearning body into the sky, wings arcing in a smile as they plunged into the firmament. As it swooped and and disappeared in fierce splendour, I remembered my father, and wished that he were alive to see the son he had raised.
11 Comments
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What a beautiful moment - and yes, we try to keep the spiders alive and OUT OF MY HOME!
I…I have to check myself. I think your writing just moved me.
I’ll be the anti-Jeremy: Good post, Yorkie! The website’s never been better.
I wonder if this is a scam…what if this is a trained hawk, whose sole purpose in life is to sucker some American tourist into feeling sorry for him, buy him to set him free, only to fly back to the original owner so the cycle can continue?
Or maybe I’m just a pessimist. Whatever.
Well written, Yorkie, and a breath of fresh air. Glad to see something here other than a bumper sticker
A “homing falcon”? Watch the video, pessimist.
I’m even prouder of you now…
You’re not half bad York…I don’t care what Chili says about you.
Alas, this faux Schindler of the Animal Kingdom could not save all that he wanted.
Lesson learned? If you like animals, you won’t like China.
That is one of the saddest things I have ever seen! If you go back let’s start a “free the animals” fund. Boo China!
Way to go York!
Now come to Spain to save the bulls. But more importantly, we need you to start a movement to get the little old ladies to pick up their damn yip-yip-dog’s crap off the sidewalks. Yes… my shoe still smells.
Any reason why you need to wear a safety vest when liberating birds?
It’s a COSHA raptor-handling requirement.
I hate that photo of those kitty cats in cages. How could you let Julie Our Love see that?!