The engulfing clouds slowly closed in. My gloved hands made a pair of fists as if to battle nature’s indifference under a sullen sky. Slowly mountain tops disappeared into the watercolor strokes of shifting clouds. The deep darkness of November was descending with determination.
In the semi darkness of my afternoon stroll, a flock of bushtits caught my ear, barely visible through the fresh sheen of falling rain, nearly hidden behind the leaves of a weeping birch. Their high-pitched voices kept the group connected during their frenetic search for insects, a search that spoke to the demands of keeping a tiny body warm when both wind and moisture were stealing away precious heat.
In stark contrast to their rapid flights, the insects they were searching for were all but immobilized by the cold. Defenseless when found, but also not using life-giving energy while in their quiescent state. In fact, only the endotherms were active. Only they were able to move at will as temperatures dropped. But this advantage had its counter too. They were tied to an almost constant search for fuel.
As a fellow endotherm, I felt the urge myself, craving hearty foods in the chill and wanting to drink even when not thirsty, still stuffing myself with turkey dinners. Wine, the fuel for my innards and imagination; Micro brew, the flow of indoor conversations of other worldly topics; Hot showers, pleasures . . . pleasures. . . .
Moon rose . . . . moon fell . . . .
. . . . . .
Perhaps the darkness tugs at a primeval instinct to keep the furnace stoked, connecting me not only to the natural world, but also to a time long past when our ancestors lived closer to the edge . . . .Back in the inside warmth again, I allow my mind to drift backwards in time, thankful for the option of inside, fire, and blankets, books, music and content to wait for future days and the light they bring.
Ah, human endotherms!
:: zuozhou
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