Large Fierce Mammal

My poem, The Strange Case of the Caller at the Library Window, published here on Day 7 of last year’s Long Winter’s Night, “… is the story of two fellow beings. One, a solitary Man interrupted at his ease by a persistent caller. The other, as it turns out, merely in quest of a last meal, and a companion to bear witness to the end of a life well lived.”

The point arising therefrom that is of significance to a detailed consideration of forbidden knowledge is the manner in which such a tricksy and spirited engagement came to so abrupt and unexpected an end. Having been run ragged answering false knocks at his front door, our “solitary Man” stands angrily before it …

I stood in thought, though not for long
Ere came a thump from up the stair,
And then I knew the trickster’s game –
The window standing open there!

I entered in and slammed the door,
Then sword in hand I mounted up
To find my empty platter and,
Upon the floor, my empty cup.

And there upon my reading chair
An ancient Raven watching me,
More grand upon its lofty back
Than any thron-ed King could be.

And then, as though the Raven felt
Its mission only part fulfilled,
It settled on my open book,
Beside a pool where beer had spilled.

A moment it regarded me,
Ere startlement could turn to rage,
The Raven inked its beak with beer
And pecked a mark upon the page.

Then silently it fluttered back,
Enthroned again, with solemn stare.
From thence it tumbled to the floor,
Stone dead before it landed there.

The Raven is a fount of Ravenly goodness, right up until his death comes as suddenly as the turning off of a light. While it is true that the more complex the animal, the more subject it may be to sudden and catastrophic death — aneurysm, stroke, heart attack — this was not the case of the Raven in my poem, who clearly knew his time had come. He simply refused to reveal his moribund state, choosing instead to let it reveal itself.

This is a trait common among many species of animals, and for those people attuned enough to make worthy companions for them, it can be observed among Dogs, Cats, and a wide variety of Birds. In this respect, even domestic animals may exhibit a distinctly feral side to their natures. On that note, there’s this just in, from the Oxford English Dictionary:

Feral
Adjective
1  (especially of an animal) in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication.
‘a feral cat’

1.1  Resembling or characteristic of a wild animal.
‘his teeth were bared in a feral snarl’

1.2  (of a young person) behaving in a wildly undisciplined and antisocial way.
‘gangs of feral youths’

In the actual Wild, to show weakness and other behaviours that may cause one to stand out from the crowd is to attract predators. For members of highly territorial species, or at times of heightened competition such as mating seasons, the imperative of procreation can be the trigger to stand tall, bright and shiny, with not a chink visible in the armor. On that score, here’s this from me:

“Wild is not the same as unpredictable or dangerous. Far from it. Wild is purity of spirit and perfection of action, in harmony with the Nature of things, and the nature of every thing, free from conscious thought and attendant paralyzing indecision.” ~ Worldly Wisdom Wednesday – The Way of the Wild

So given an imperative that outweighs simple survival, an organism may exhibit itself at the pinnacle of its perfection. Even though it may know it has but one stroke to offer an adversary, the depths of its vitality can only be known by inviting that stroke. Consider that.