Growing up in India, I never really saw too many possums (more like none). Now living in a part of Atlanta with heavy vegetation (and a good amount of trash), I have laid eyes on a couple. Over the last month though, I ran into two dead ones (no they were not playing dead). And both times, I felt bad at the situation. And that negative feeling just wanted me to write something.
The first one I found was under the deck of the shed in our backyard. It had probably just died because there weren't too many flies and there was no smell at all. On top of that, there was a baby possum right next to it (more like snuggled up next to it). When that baby possum would see me, it would make sneezing noises, which probably meant it did not want me near. Even though it was just a possum, it made me stop and think. And when I thought, I felt bad -- a poor kid next to its dead (or dying) parent staving off potential dangers. It was kind of sad to see this tiny little possum scowling at me next to its dead parent. I left them alone for the next couple of days. By then, the baby possum was gone (and I like to think it is now out there fending for itself and thriving). Then I dragged the dead possum out from under the deck and buried it in the yard. We could never guess what killed the possum, because there was no sign of injury or infection.
The next dead possum I saw was on my daily bike route to work. It was on our neighbourhood street. And it was a weird case -- the whole possum body was intact except for the snout, which was crushed. As if it was under some moving car and was trying get out from underneath and just got crushed by a tire as it ventured out. It is a weird feeling to think of yourself in such a situation -- some large juggernaut rolling towards you and you think that you can escape it by jumping out of its way at the right moment, except your judgement is off ...
On one hand, it is just the death of some animals. It is not a big deal. On the other hand, when my mind unwillingly anthropomorphises these animals, I feel so sad about the situation. I automatically believe that this kind of incident would never be so void of sympathy, empathy and emotion if humans were involved instead of animals (and possums at that). And with this seed, my mind begins a random walk on the topic of how much importance we put on human lives yet how little importance we put on the lives of animals and how easily we let entire species get driven to extinction (either by direct massacre or by habitat removal or both). Even though my mind meanders in these thoughts, I do not have anything useful comment on it. I am as cruel as anybody else and I enjoy meat as much as anybody else.
Then I watched the movie "12 years a slave" a couple of days ago and I realized that my previous conclusion was flawed. We humans are capable of showing no empathy to any animal (including humans) and we are just mean creatures ...
The first one I found was under the deck of the shed in our backyard. It had probably just died because there weren't too many flies and there was no smell at all. On top of that, there was a baby possum right next to it (more like snuggled up next to it). When that baby possum would see me, it would make sneezing noises, which probably meant it did not want me near. Even though it was just a possum, it made me stop and think. And when I thought, I felt bad -- a poor kid next to its dead (or dying) parent staving off potential dangers. It was kind of sad to see this tiny little possum scowling at me next to its dead parent. I left them alone for the next couple of days. By then, the baby possum was gone (and I like to think it is now out there fending for itself and thriving). Then I dragged the dead possum out from under the deck and buried it in the yard. We could never guess what killed the possum, because there was no sign of injury or infection.
The next dead possum I saw was on my daily bike route to work. It was on our neighbourhood street. And it was a weird case -- the whole possum body was intact except for the snout, which was crushed. As if it was under some moving car and was trying get out from underneath and just got crushed by a tire as it ventured out. It is a weird feeling to think of yourself in such a situation -- some large juggernaut rolling towards you and you think that you can escape it by jumping out of its way at the right moment, except your judgement is off ...
On one hand, it is just the death of some animals. It is not a big deal. On the other hand, when my mind unwillingly anthropomorphises these animals, I feel so sad about the situation. I automatically believe that this kind of incident would never be so void of sympathy, empathy and emotion if humans were involved instead of animals (and possums at that). And with this seed, my mind begins a random walk on the topic of how much importance we put on human lives yet how little importance we put on the lives of animals and how easily we let entire species get driven to extinction (either by direct massacre or by habitat removal or both). Even though my mind meanders in these thoughts, I do not have anything useful comment on it. I am as cruel as anybody else and I enjoy meat as much as anybody else.
Then I watched the movie "12 years a slave" a couple of days ago and I realized that my previous conclusion was flawed. We humans are capable of showing no empathy to any animal (including humans) and we are just mean creatures ...
