Loss becomes the world, the empty gallows within which so many find themselves hanged, and into that shadowy world plethoras soon will fall—if they haven’t by now.
Our species rejuvenates itself upon the suffering of others, the wishful thinking of extinction that we will upon those we call alien, different, unwelcome.
What fiends we humans are; what devilish behemoths we pride ourselves in being as we wish unforgivable suffering upon others while continuing our assault on the world at large. We take and we steal, and all the while we pride ourselves for the anguish we visit upon others because—let’s be honest—the invader is not us, is not we ourselves, but it is some other thing, some other hate-filled monster that we can all revile.
House sparrow? Check! But let’s ignore the fact that the house sparrow is doing what nature made it to do, and it’s only sin is to take advantage of the opportunity we humans have given it by way of introducing the species to alien places both far and wide.
European starling? Check! In honor of Shakespeare’s writings we deluged the world with this creature, but now we hate it, wish upon it all manner of death even unto the suffering of the world, and we pretend we ourselves have no hand in its fate, have no responsibility for its presence in the places we call dear and sacred. Damned be the starling! And let’s pretend we are not to blame for extinctions the starling never could imagine, let alone accomplish.
Shall I go on?
Whatever life reflects for us to see, our innate desire to be better than all else blinds us to that truth, and we are left wanting, desiring for the end of that we deem lacking. We are better, we think, and we visit upon so many others a profound hate that witchery could never challenge our desire for death. And upon the valley of destruction that we ourselves wrought, nothing exempts us from this belief: We are not to blame for the horrors we visit upon this planet; we are not responsible for nature’s response to our invasion; and we are not accountable for the ends we visit on all others, especially those whom we proclaim as invasive even as we destroy wantonly and blindly.
I see my own reflection and find it repulsive. The weight of my forefathers ends for me the will of passion made manifest for Nature’s children, my kith and kin both past and present opening old wounds too long ignored by the brethren of my species.
We hate. Such is the nature of our kind.
We defile. Such is the nature of our kind, yet we pretend the fault lies with others.
We destroy. Such is the nature of our kind even as we ignore our participation in the destruction of our world, even as we hope no one will notice the dichotomy of our petty disgust cast upon the very creatures we claim to adore.
We are the opposite of our reflections: We see in ourselves the best of what the universe hates most. We claim pride in what humans destroy, calling ourselves protectors of the natural world even as we visit upon it the most dastardly stewardship.
Blame others. That is what we do best.
Take responsibility? Never! For no evil can possibly be the cause of our actions… Right?
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 A male northern pintail duck (Anas acuta).
 A male domestic swan goose (Anser cygnoides), probably Chinese.
 A male mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos).
 A male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis).