Watchers

I sometimes watch the way my backyard rabbits and squirrels scrounge for fallen birdseed in this winter of deep snow. Two or three rabbits graze contentedly until one tries to horn in on another's stash. Then ears go back, they lunge and snap and jump until one backs way off. Only to edge his way back in later, and it starts again. Squirrels are the same, fighting first with the rabbits, then with each other, moving to this dance of dominance, all drawing and mostly respecting the lines of their social order.

But when a strange sound occurs, or a shadow passes overhead (or a door opens), all freeze momentarily, then dash to safety. The rules are forgotten, their little society momentarily collapses, it's all for oneself. Things slowly coalesce again, back to routine, as though nothing ever happened. "Nothing to see here, folks, go about your business."

Sometimes I'm not the only watcher. More than once I've seen a hawk perched in a nearby tree, watching with raptor intensity. I doubt he gives a tinker's damn about their little society. He's sizing them up, no doubt admiring the ample size of the dominant ones, checking out escape routes, and working out the vector factors of his degree of hunger and his likelihood of success. All too often (from the rabbit or squirrel perspective) the snow's too deep or the distance too far, and one little beast will never again take a stand or steal a bite. Unless they first catch sight of his preceding shadow and safely bolt for cover.

Late at night, the stillness is sometimes broken by the somber hoots of a barred or great horned owl. Those must be the worst; I can only imagine the terror of a sudden whoosh wings from nowhere, followed by the sharp pierce of talons and beak and, if fortunate enough, the fast descent into deepest dark oblivion.

Sometimes I think that's exactly how we are. We fight to find and keep our place, mostly live by the rules we develop. We have to be on guard, and prioritize, sometimes keep our heads down, sometimes relax. When a crisis comes, we do what we must, and when it passes, we go back to our daily lives.

All the while we're being watched by sharp-eyed hawks of fate and chance, poised to come from nowhere, and fast,though if we're careful enough, observant enough, we sense the coming shadow and safely dash for cover, if we're fit enough and it's close enough.

But there are also owls, sinister watchers of the night, who see where we can't see, and may at any descend at any moment, dragging us from dark to dark, away from our little society, forever.