Lia
Banned
Last night, around midnight, and coming home from town, I had the most awful experience imaginable; at least it was for me in any event. I know the guys won’t understand this (or perhaps I malign them, in which case I apologize), but I want to tell about it anyway. On an A road I came up over the brow of a hill, and caught in the glare of the headlights a young buck. I could do nothing, even tho there was no-one else on the road in either direction, I couldn’t swerve in time, and in the split second that I came upon it I knew it was gonna get hit. It was almost as if I had realized this in a sort of time capsule. Kinda as if all time was non-linear.
Also, in that weird time capsule the Hare, which was young and a beautiful color (it kinda looked ethereal just for that moment), hesitated, caught in the glare, and had almost reached the central reservation before becoming confused, and for some terribly nexplicable reason, turned back on itself and started to prepare for a run back. I can't get over how surreal and perfectly formed and vital it looked. So young and healthy, yet so terribly frightened.
I felt the hit, it seemed to reverberate for ages, the sound of it was frightful, and I knew the poor thing had broken every bone single in its small body. I tried not to identify (impossible for me), and immediately thought of one of my dogs, and visualized the same scene but with her. I felt sick, literally, and a lump came to my throat. I wanted to stop, but what would have been the point? There was no way that the buck had survived a direct hit head on, at my speed of around 60.
I actually felt ill and disorientated for the rest of the way home, and afterward. I couldn’t even have a hot drink, I felt that I would have thrown it back. How is it that we hold life and the pain of others so dear, and feel it so deeply, even with animals, that it can physically make some ill? What is it about the life of even a wild animal that make us feel so deeply affected by their pain and death? I felt feverish, headachey and quite lethargic when I got home. I guess I must have been in shock. Just thinking about it now makes me well up. I called a friend, in tears, and kept repeating rather pointlessly, and no doubt plaintively, I killed a Hare, I can’t believe I killed a Hare. I know I broke every bone in its body.”
I’m afraid to look under the car today, but I have to have it cleaned underneath, otherwise I won’t be able to lay this thing to rest. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. I was almost as bad when I hit a Badger late one nigh,t on a country lane, altho I knew I hadn’t killed it that time. But again, I felt so ill that it was days before I could eat or focus attention on something constructive.
Also, in that weird time capsule the Hare, which was young and a beautiful color (it kinda looked ethereal just for that moment), hesitated, caught in the glare, and had almost reached the central reservation before becoming confused, and for some terribly nexplicable reason, turned back on itself and started to prepare for a run back. I can't get over how surreal and perfectly formed and vital it looked. So young and healthy, yet so terribly frightened.
I felt the hit, it seemed to reverberate for ages, the sound of it was frightful, and I knew the poor thing had broken every bone single in its small body. I tried not to identify (impossible for me), and immediately thought of one of my dogs, and visualized the same scene but with her. I felt sick, literally, and a lump came to my throat. I wanted to stop, but what would have been the point? There was no way that the buck had survived a direct hit head on, at my speed of around 60.
I actually felt ill and disorientated for the rest of the way home, and afterward. I couldn’t even have a hot drink, I felt that I would have thrown it back. How is it that we hold life and the pain of others so dear, and feel it so deeply, even with animals, that it can physically make some ill? What is it about the life of even a wild animal that make us feel so deeply affected by their pain and death? I felt feverish, headachey and quite lethargic when I got home. I guess I must have been in shock. Just thinking about it now makes me well up. I called a friend, in tears, and kept repeating rather pointlessly, and no doubt plaintively, I killed a Hare, I can’t believe I killed a Hare. I know I broke every bone in its body.”
I’m afraid to look under the car today, but I have to have it cleaned underneath, otherwise I won’t be able to lay this thing to rest. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. I was almost as bad when I hit a Badger late one nigh,t on a country lane, altho I knew I hadn’t killed it that time. But again, I felt so ill that it was days before I could eat or focus attention on something constructive.