I know where the bobcat sleeps

I know where the bobcat sleeps, alas!
When the sun shines bright and cars grumble and stir;
When the people jog through fields of grass,
And fallen leaves prance on streams of glass;
When cyclists pedal and bike tires whir,
And nighttime hopes its secret keeps—
I know where the bobcat sleeps!

I know where the bobcat rests its head;
Where it tends its fur and bides its time
Till dusk does come and day be dead;
When people huddle beneath sheets in bed;
For it wanders the night on paths of mine,
Through woods I walk and fields I stroll;
I know where the bobcat goes!

I know where the bobcat hunts, oh yes,
When the air hangs dark and the city sleeps,
When it moves about with stealth of breath;
Its form a shadow to make you guess
If you see a cat or just nighttime creeps;
But a hunter could be there nearby
For I know where the bobcat lies!

— — — — — — — — — —

Notes:

[1] The idea, cadence and form for this bit of fun are shamelessly borrowed from “Sympathy” by Paul Laurence Dunbar, one my favorite poems.  I have no doubt I’ve done it a great injustice…

[2] Despite its jovial playfulness, this “poem” (to abuse the term) is based on fact: there is a healthy, good-sized bobcat living at White Rock Lake and easily seen if you know where it lives.  (For the welfare of the cat, I will not publicly disclose anything about its location.)  I watched it a week ago as it stalked and eventually caught a rabbit.  A few days after that another park visitor photographed it just after sunset in the same area.  In the past two weeks I’ve seen the bobcat regularly, almost always coming from and going into the same area of woods.  Since it returns before daybreak and comes out only at dusk or later, seeing it is one thing and photographing it is quite another.  But I’m trying!

[3] The bobcat is quite large for this species, though not so large as to be abnormal.  Its size indicates it likely is a male.  That assumption, as it is, could be wrong, yet it’s a safe bet based on the feline’s physical presence.

[4] Bobcats at the lake are nothing new.  Then again, neither are foxes (both kinds), coyotes, skunks, beavers, minks, more birds than you can imagine, or an unbelievably vast amount of other wildlife.  As urban parks go, White Rock Lake covers more than 2,000 acres but is surrounded on all sides by dense suburban and urban development (commercial and residential).  Nevertheless, the lake provides a surprisingly diverse ecosystem for critters of all sorts.  From riparian habitats to prairie to woodlands to an 1,100-acre lake, this place offers home to a vast array of life.  As I’ve always said, if one is to live in Dallas, this is the only option.

Hiding in the shadows

Sometimes the most interesting things aren’t found in the light…

A pair of house finches (Carpodacus mexicanus) stealing a kiss beneath the mistletoe (2009_10_17_031857)

A pair of house finches (Carpodacus mexicanus) stealing a kiss beneath the mistletoe

A male Polyphemus moth (Antheraea polyphemus) escaping the light of day (2009_09_06_028858)

A male Polyphemus moth (Antheraea polyphemus) escaping the light of day

A female great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) standing guard in her tree (2009_07_19_027165)

A female great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) standing guard in her tree

A blue-headed vireo (Vireo solitarius) watching me from within an impenetrable thicket (2009_10_24_033301)

A blue-headed vireo (Vireo solitarius) watching me from within an impenetrable thicket

A female northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) enjoying the solace of a quiet stream (2009_06_06_022618)

A female northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) enjoying the solace of a quiet stream

A juvenile American robin (Turdus migratorius) doing battle with an earthworm (2009_06_27_024880)

A juvenile American robin (Turdus migratorius) doing battle with an earthworm

A swift setwing (Dythemis velox) facing one more sunset (2009_07_07_026166)

A swift setwing (Dythemis velox) facing one more sunset

Harvestman

What’s this lurking in the grass?

A harvestman (Leiobunum townsendi) walking through the grass (2009_10_03_030248)

With all those spindly legs holding up a body that seems too heavy for such frail appendages, of course it’s a harvestman, an arachnid sometimes in North America called a daddy longlegs.

I most vividly remember them from my childhood.  When I was perhaps ten years old, my siblings and I discovered two gigantic masses of them attached to the outside of a house.  Many thousands of individuals huddled together such that it looked like two football-sized bundles of black hair tucked in just beneath the roof.

And when disturbed?  They swarmed in every direction and climbed anything they came in contact with.  That elicited more than a few screams from two of my siblings (I won’t name names, though).

A harvestman (Leiobunum townsendi) walking through the grass (2009_10_03_030274)

This species, Leiobunum townsendi, is new to me.  In truth, harvestmen lack in-depth scientific study and most species remain difficult to identify as few resources are available to assist with the effort.

Though fewer than 20 known species reside in Texas, pinning down a name to go with the legs still proved near impossible.  I suspect the same amount of research would yield even fewer clues were I attempting to identify most of the other species found here.

A harvestman (Leiobunum townsendi) walking through the grass (2009_10_03_030275)

Though they are arachnids, harvestmen are not spiders—just as scorpions are arachnids but are not spiders.

According to urban legend, these creatures are the most venomous animals on the planet but either have mouths too small or teeth too short to pierce human skin.  The truth is: they are harmless, completely lack venom, and rarely bite even when handled.  And if they do happen to bite—which really is so rare as to be unheard of—they lack the ability to pierce the skin and can only give a wee pinch at best.

A harvestman (Leiobunum townsendi) walking through the grass (2009_10_03_030265)

Unlike spiders who must drink their food, harvestmen can eat solids.  Most are omnivorous, some are scavengers, and others are predators. 

Texas has three endangered species of harvestman, all three being troglobites (cave dwellers).

A harvestman (Leiobunum townsendi) walking through the grass (2009_10_03_030270)

No matter how much I tried to get the whole critter in the frame, each time I did the poor thing became too small to recognize.  This individual easily was larger than my hand, though ignoring its legs meant it was as small as the fingernail on my ring finger.

For all those who came before

For all those who came before.  Those who threw me to the ground; those who hurt me, intentionally or otherwise; those who cursed me; those who lied to me; those who hushed me; those who hated me; those who betrayed me; those who loved me, then didn’t; those who befriended me; those who cared for me; and many more.

When you knocked me down, rolling around in leaves changed the way I see autumn… All in that one day, it taught me to see the world differently, from a different point of view.  You changed the way I look at people and the way they look at me.

When you hurt me, the pain helped me grow stronger.  I learned from it, let it teach me the bitter lessons of life and death and love and hate.  The scars are reminders that I’m alive, the pain confirmation that I feel.  You empowered me to face challenges without fear of failure, knowing that failure would increase the potency of my essence, of my very being.

When you cursed me, I learned the sound of smallness.  I learned to recognize it as such in others, and further to recognize the bigotry, hypocrisy, hatred, and selfishness which permeates our world.  This helped acclimatize me to the evil that lies within the hearts of humankind when they cannot see beyond their own prejudices, wanton odium of those who are different, and the inclination of those who feel differently to turn away in silent acquiescence.

When you lied to me, mendacious tongues writhed together forming a recognizable pattern.  I became empowered to hear the truth and isolate dishonesty.  I learned to see through the lies and understand people better, knowing when to be hurt by dishonesty and when to accept it as a defense mechanism — as well as when it is an unconscious act.  You taught me to cherish the truth more and more.

When you hushed me, the importance of listening became apparent.  Whether it be the rain falling in sheets, the distant call of a bird which beckons to the heart, the real meaning behind what people say, or the contentment and folly of silence, I finally could hear the song at the world’s heart, and it sounded of anguish and pain and joy and happiness.  I learned that so much of the noise around us means to cloak that which the universe wishes us to comprehend.

When you hated me, you helped me see the evil in people as well as the good.  I was caused to cherish those within whom no intentional ill will exists.  The behest of love and companionship were made apparent to me, and the insignificance of everything else was committed to memory.

When you betrayed me, my own innocence was revealed.  The inherent trust which I so often and initially bequeathed to others seemed a flaw, a malady within my consciousness that threatened to dash to pieces the many relationships that relied on explicit trust.  I learned to recognize betrayal as part and parcel of the human condition.  This helped me to see that trust is earned, not given, but also that a man is made trustworthy only when he is given trust.

When you loved me, you told me I meant something to someone even if I couldn’t see it then, even if it wasn’t true.  I realized the power of the sentiment was independent of the emotion itself, yet the emotion could present its own rewards immeasurable by any sentiment.  My false impression of love as an eternal constant transformed into the truth of love as a simple emotion and physical response, both of which are independent of each other and neither of which are mandated to eternity.  I know now that true love endures even when that which encompasses it is no more.

When you befriended me, the hour-long conversations and the laughter and jokes reached into my soul and plucked from within the bud of heartfelt relationships.  The truth of forever friendships became most apparent to me.  Lighted, to my life was revealed the sanctity of family and the importance of fellowship.  Even if we could not put it into words, the indefinable became defined.

When you cared for me, my own care for others was quantified and made measurable.  Important things become unimportant.  Defining existence become simple.  The cosmos is vast beyond comprehension and we are such insignificant players on its stage.  We can never truly hope to control the events surrounding us.  The most we can ever hope to achieve is determining whether we are good or evil, and my only path on that journey was to choose to care with devotion and meaning.  All else became secondary.

Am I from another world with these thoughts? Am I somehow alien from the majority of those around me? Yes, perhaps both sentiments are true, perhaps both represent some complete ubiquitous verity about which so few have any comprehension.

I learned to live without bitterness and resentment.  I learned to turn my back on animosity.  I learned the importance of love in its many incarnations, to appreciate the sometimes bitter, sometimes rewarding lessons it had to teach.  I learned that to forgive is to demonstrate love.  I learned that love is not just platonic or familial or romantic.  And I learned it was for all of those who came before, some for who they were, some for what they taught, and some for what they did.  I realize now that love and hate are the same coin, flippantly tossed into the air with every emotional interaction.  It is the wheel upon which turns our ability to feel deeply.  It is the altar upon which is sacrificed our innocence so that we might survive the existence which is thrust upon us at birth.

For all of those who came before, for all of those who are here now, and for all of those who will arrive in the future, I love you all.  I love you for different reasons, and it may be that I love what you represent and not who you are, but I still love the idea that is you.  Each has imparted to me what is necessary for survival.  Each has enabled me to live.  I owe you my existence.  I can only repay you by the life I lead.  You will find it worthy.