Like all tales this one will start with a preface. This may seem like a parable, but in fact is a tale recounted to me and a table of my contemporaries the Sunday just past. It is a simple story, but one with many profound ramifications, and if one was of the predilection to do so, one could ponder the story for the rest of their days and discover the true meaning of existence. One could, I couldn't. The story requires three actors - a pond, a large plastic bowl and a kookaburra.
So to reconstruct the story we must imagine a pond in a backyard. This could be your backyard, and this could be your pond, and you may imagine them as they are, despite the fact that they are not, they belong to Steve. Whether the pond is in a backyard or not is immaterial, I am merely trying to set a stage, paint a visual picture. What we require next for the story to progress is a large plastic bowl, in that smokey clear plastic, which is so big that you could quite easily sit it on your head and spin it around, maybe getting ten revolutions as easily as you like. Now place the bowl into the pond, floating so that any passers-by would be able to pass time by throwing pebbles into the bowl, that is, the bowl is facing up. There were no passers-by, but I merely want you to know how the bowl was laying - it's quite important to the story. Now the third player in this story is a kookaburra, quite young, who is hungry, as birds often are, and thristy, as they less often are. And that is all we need to make this story. Are you ready?
Ok, so the thirsty kookaburra is looking for something to drink. They can drink from many vessels, watering cans, tires laying on their sides, the bottom water catching part on terracotta pot plants, basically any container that has caught rain water. Or tap water, or bottled water (although this is a less likely scenario), or water where there are baby mosquitos (although this is a more dangerous scenario - given the dangers malaria poses to the developing world). This kookaburra needs not worry about any of things i've listed above, or the myriad of other water sources, as it has spotted a pond to drink from. Ponds are ideal as they contain more water, making them slightly less stagnant, which is better for the kookaburra's health, and he can avoid baby mosquitos, I guess not so much because malaria is a problem kookaburras have to deal with (kookaburras and malaria inhabit different continents), but because they'd be all gross and squirmy to swallow.
So the kookaburra spots the pond and flies down for a drink. He spots the bowl in the middle of the pond, decides that there is where he wants to land, and comes in feet first to take a much needed drink. He comes accross the top of the bowl, with the idea that he wants the fronts of his claws to face out of the bowl so that he can take a drink. He comes accross the bowl, lands on the rim, and as he does the bowl flips up and traps him underneath it. Because the bowl was so large, its rim was much wider than it's base, which was all that was floating on the water, because it was a little denser than normal because of the micro and macro summer plant growth, algae and weeds and the like. What happens next is one of two scenarios, both equally likely to me, as I'm no expert on kookaurras and their abilities in the water so i'll put forward the two possible scenarios I came up with:
1. The kookaburra gets flipped into the water and cannot swim all that well. The water is thick with algae, and, nevertheless, they aren't the best divers. He stays afloat for as long as he can, until his feathers get too heavy and he drowns.
2. The kookaburra stays afloat and sees a little sunlight through the opaque plastic. He deems that this be his best path to salvation, and flies frantically into the glow. He bashes himself to death on the tupperwear, which is such good quality plaastic no bird can get through it, not even a kookaburra.
My friend Steve saw the plastic container from his balcony when it was floating and assumed it was blown in from a neighbours balcony. By the time he got down there to retrieve it, minutes, hours, days, doesn't matter, he found it upside down and with a dead kookaburra inside. The kookaburra's death was no doubt a frantic one, like all animals kookaburras seek to preserve their own life for as long as they can, as it is nice being alive, and im sure it wanted to pass its little kookaburra genetic material onto some offspring. There is nothing noble in death. I killed a pig last year as a part of my rural France experiment and it squealed and kicked and tried to stay alive, even though a farm boy with a hair lip sneer had plunged a knife into it's neck. That experience made me physically ill, and i'll write about it later in piece called, "Death in the Afternoon", thank's Ernest.
So why have a chosen such a morbid tale to kick off this tale? Well, the realisation that death can be just waiting around the corner for you is one of the most liberating things you can ever realise. It is what started me on my global adventures, it's made me not want anything resembling a job, in fear that I might be wasting one of my precious minutes here on Earth. This blog is going to be about travel, about enjoying yourself, about living in the particular way I have chosen. It's the very rough, long, copy for a book I hope to write in the distant future, and the draft copies of my future university assignments. I hope you enjoy it.
No comments:
Post a Comment