Tis the Season

I could never understood the dark irony of stalking a majestic wild animal, who, using every skillful instinctive tool it possesses to survive, and being quite deft with those skills on its own, with all the endeavor that daily survival entails, is suddenly in one defining moment, taken out of existence. More befuddling, is once it’s been extinguished and devitalized, it is taken to a taxidermist, who then tries to make it look as lifelike as possible.

I could never understand, the bragging rights for the spoils of an ambush, of a harmless animal that wanders (or is baited) into a fatal frame and taken down by a high powered something or other. What is the takeaway, of receiving a bounty for an arena of your own design, with a player of one? There is no squaring off. There is no even playing field. There is not even awareness, from the other opponent, that they are even participating. We could also equate this scenario in kind, with the plight of our planet.

There is no point for preservation, if essence is lost.

On the highways of Illinois

There is no preservation, is essence is lost. 2 live morning doves, with taxidermy fawn and coyote