The law of the jungle... unheeded

I watched a couple of killings yesterday. The most impressive were the ones on the National Geographic Explorer show called Predators at War. The show followed jaguars, lions, hyenas, cheetahs, African wild dogs and showed the dramatic struggles for life. These magnificent creatures killed gazelle, kudu, cape buffalo and even each other as they fought to survive. Primarily, the predators were hunting and killing for the purpose of eating the prey. The exception was a mature male lion, an enormous creature who found occasion to kill a young hyena with a broken back. The hyena couldn't stand but could move his front legs and his head and neck. The lion simply walked up to the hyena and crushed his neck and windpipe. The lion clamped down on the hyena and stayed in the kill position until the hyena's body was cold. In this rare case, the lion was killing the competition instead of looking for a hot meal.

A less impressive kill was my dog, Maggie killing a baby squirrel she found. The divine Mrs. L and I were busy taking down a decrepit old rock wall at our house and Maggie was right beside us, sniffing and pawing at the mortar. With only a couple of feet of wall left standing a squirrel darted out of the hollow, ran for the nearest pecan tree and escaped Maggie's teeth by jumping onto our house. As the last section of the wall came down Maggie jumped into the debris and pulled a baby squirrel from the remains of a nest. Instincts took over and she crushed the helpless baby to death. Unlike the animals on tv, she had no idea what to do with it once it was dead. She carried it around. She dropped it from time to time and then pushed at it with her nose, almost like she expected it to run away. Technically this killing was purposeless. Maggie doesn't need to kill squirrels to eat and she doesn't compete with them for food. I don't hold it against her.

As Maggie killed the little squirrel she found in the wall, I was digging through the remains of the nest, expecting to find at least one more baby squirrel. I did. I pulled the little guy (girl? who knows?) from the pile of mortar and rocks. He seemed unharmed. His eyes were not yet open. His fur was little more than an auburn haze that hovered just above his skin. His claws were black and already sharp as nails but his legs weren't strong enough to hold him up. I curled him back into a fetal position in my hand and held him close to my chest. He seemed comforted and apparently, went back to sleep. My wife found a sock and we put him inside to keep him warm and cuddled. The boys each took turns holding and touching the little survivor in his new, white cotton nest. After the job of tearing down the wall was complete I took him to a friend's house and they are going to do their best to raise him and release him. When I left their place last night he was sucking half and half out of an eyedropper and squealed if he wasn't held securely enough. I hope he makes it.

Now, for the difficult part. What is it about me that makes it possible for me to watch the dog crunch one baby squirrel and then two minutes later spend quite a bit of time and energy to save the other one? Why can I hunt and kill all kinds of animals, squirrels included but couldn't stand to watch that second baby die? As the divine Mrs. L pointed out I myself have put out glue traps to catch the little creatures that might make their homes in my attic and when I catch the unfortunate mouse I take it to the alley and quickly dispatch it with a stick of firewood to the head. Why then could I not bear to watch the second squirrel die or even to kill it myself? I don't know. Maybe it's as simple as having held it in my hands and looked down at it's face, seen the absolute helplessness of an infant and therefore, recognized my complete responsibility for it's life. Maybe it's that all babies are precious because they have no bad ideas, they have no dangerous motives, they harbor no ill will toward anything. They just want to live, breathe. Maybe I recognize that the squirrel has no choice but to trust the hands that held it after pulling it from the wreckage of the wall and that I couldn't then violate that trust by allowing it to come to harm. I realize that the squirrel is having no such ethical concerns. Maybe it's that I know that I can violate the laws of the jungle and that I can show mercy when there is no logical explanation for doing so.

The squirrel is doing, by instinct what it knows to do to survive. It was sucking on that eyedropper. It can't begin to differentiate between motive and moral values and it never will. Hopefully, it will have a chance to climb a tall tree, scamper across a powerline, outrun a dog and bury pecans all over my friend's yard.