Living with the Animals

Tag : Feather Filled


I felt the fleeting caress of the tiny, infant bird’s foot onmy skin, exposed between the straps of my sandal. Only hours-old,the little ball of fluff scurried past me and disappeared into thetall grass beside the kitchen door of the house.
Like everything else this spring, the birth of the spottedsandpipers was later than normal. I had been worried for weeks thatthey might not come at all. Some catastrophe might have overtakenthem on their migration north from their winter homes in theCaribbean.
Then I saw the first adult bird. After that, I saw adults flyingalong the beach and more than a week ago even surprised one in thelong grass that covers the point. The sandpiper delivered theclassic theatre performance, feigning an injured wing, staggeringand flopping along the ground, trying to lead me away from the spotwhere I was almost certain an egg-filled nest was concealed. Istepped away carefully, backwards, checking each footfall beforemaking it. If there was a nest, then there was a chance of anotherlitter. I dared to hope.
One day I spotted them: the father, followed by four puffballs in aragged file, stumbling among the rocks trying to keep up. Rocks astall as your knee with inlets of salt water between them were greatmountains and broad bays to these little birds whose life historycould be counted in minutes. Even if birds have imagination theycouldn’t possibly imagine they will be flying over thislandscape in a month’s time and to the beaches of theCaribbean by the time the trees began to shed their leaves.
I was talking on the phone to a voice in Calcutta when I firstspied them below the second storey bedroom window. I wanted toblurt out to the voice at the other end of the line my joy at theirappearance, but thought better of it. The voice in Calcuttta waswalking me through the re-connection of my satellite televisionreceiver. Living in a city with a population 40 times the number ofthis province, he would probably not share my elation at the returnof the next generation of shore birds that are my belovedsummertime companions on this rock in the North Atlantic.
Or maybe he would have. After all, it is city dwellers worldwidewho for the most part contribute the multi-millions of dollars toanimal protection campaigns that make life such a misery for thesealers every spring. Ironic isn’t it that people who livein places where there are many tall buildings but few animals arefar more devoted to critters than those who actually live amongthem? Or maybe not so much devoted as unrealistically adoring ofthe beasts of the earth, the birds of the air and the creatures ofthe sea.
I was born a city dweller and began my life as member of this cultcaught up in the cloying cuteness of precious little baby animalsthat all the urban kids I knew indulged in. But, at the age ofseven I first came to the island of Newfoundland and saw in thebays and along the shore how people here co-existed with animals.The kids on the now empty islands of Bonavista Bay had pet kittensand bunnies jut like my friends and I did on the mainland, but assoon as they were able were standing at a splitting table swimmingwith blood helping their families get food and make a living. Asthey got older they shot ducks and turrs and went ashore to setrabbit slips and kill moose in the autumn. They were able toreconcile their love of animals with their utility to humankind.There is a term that describes this ability. It’s calledgrowing up.
Very soon the European Parliament will vote on a resolution to banthe import of all seal products. Loyola Sullivan who, after beingdriven out of the Williams government, found work as our federalambassador for fisheries, has been trying hard to explain the sealhunt to the citizens of the EU. It is hard work, made harder by thehuge budgets for propaganda the animal rights lobby has in itscoffers to falsify the facts, thus guaranteeing the money keepsrolling in.
Good luck to Ambassador Sullivan. If only there remained even ashred of co-operation between Ottawa and the Confederation Buildingthere might be a chance to turn back this impending EU legislation.We could try to do that by bringing Europarliamentarians to ruralNewfoundland and Labrador to see for themselves that the seal huntis just one of the many links that unite people here with thecreatures they live among.
If they came to my house I would try to arrange for a baby bird totread on their bare feet, a feather light touch with more weightthan a metric ton of propaganda.