Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Musings 51--Bart and the fuzzy worm.

Bart the dalmatian dog was lying on the cool concrete porch watching a fuzzy worm crawl around his food bowl. Bart weights about 75 pounds and the worm was about an inch and a half long. Bart could have easily squished the fuzzy little fellow, but it is not in Bart's nature to act aggressively towards lesser creatures. Instead, he just lay with his head on the floor peering at the crawling fellow.

The worm seemed to be quite happy stopping at small food stains and, apparently, getting a bit of sustenance. He'd find a greasy spot and stop for a moment and then proceed to another one. Such is the life of a worm. On the food chain, I suppose, they are near the bottom. Larger creatures with big feet, automobiles and birds are probably their biggest killers. However, Bart the dalmatian was just an onlooker on this 90 degree day. The concrete was cool. The worm wasn't eating much. The world was in harmony.

With a tweet and a flutter of wings, a young wren that was in the process of building a nest behind one of the porch shelves spied the worm. Now I don't know much about bird brains, but I do know that they understand food. I also know that this particular wren understood that the worm crawling around the dog food bowl was under the protection of a higher power.

The wren landed on a basket hanger and tweeted loudly. Bart rolled one eye upward and sniffed. Now old Bart loves chasing birds. We have several bushes in our yard that he enjoys making the birds fly when they land. He has also been known to eat one if it stumbled in flight. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. It is well known around the Greasy Ridge bird kingdom that you don't mess with old Bart unless you want to get eaten.

So the scene is set. Bart the dalmatian never moves his head. He rolls his eyes to watch the bird and then back to the worm. The bird watches the worm, but is very nervous about the dog. The worm seems oblivious to everything except the greasy spots of food left in the bowl.

Back in the old days during the cold war I'd have thought that the U. S. was Bart the dalmatian. I would have thought that all the other guys were the bird and that we protected the worm. Now days with our new policy of first strike--preemption it is called. I wonder just who is who and what is what.

This is a great country with many wonderful places and peoples. We have much bounty and are blessed. However, many of the other countries in the world do not see us a the good guys anymore. Did 9-11 change that, as Mr. President claims? Must we be the bad guys to fight the bad guys? I sincerely hope not, but time will tell.

Back to the story. The wren just didn't feel lucky enough to try for the worm, so she flew away to chase bugs elsewhere. Bart the dalmatian closed his eyes and went to sleep. The worm crawled back under the flower pot to do whatever it is that worms do. The world kept on spinning. Tomorrow would be another day, but for today the balance remained.


At 10:01 PM, Blogger I Think You're All Idiots said...

Good greif.
Let's look at how that would've played out here on the sprawling Evil Conservative ranch;

I would have gotten out of my hanging wicker chair, fed the pedigree canine (U.S.) a nice juicy baby seal steak or perhaps some dolphin or manatee meat.

I then would've lobbed a few rocks at the twittering little bird(those "other guys") as I chased it from the porch.

Then I would've grabbed up the worm and used it for fishing bait. Well, not to actually fish with it myself, but to sell to some less fortunate lad for a gratuitous profit no less.


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