It’s winter in Indiana and it looks like it. The 10 day forecast shows the possibility for snow but mostly promises cloudy days with highs just above freezing and lows just below. To sum it up: sloppy by day, firm by night, sunlight a rarity. The pandemic continues to influence our routines so there is abundant time at home, limited social contacts, and economic strain remains a grim reality for millions. Our nation’s Capitol was recently swarmed by an angry mob and there are rumors and warnings that similar rebellions are yet to come.
Today is bread day, a routine carried out three times a week for a local shop. Each effort yields six loaves. I have a routine on bread mornings: start a pot of coffee, build a fire in the wood stove, add tepid water to a three gallon bucket holding a blend of flours and yeast. If I’m on schedule, dawn is breaking and a few birds have arrived at the feeder as I begin kneading. If the birds are aware of recent events in DC they show no indication. Their focus is on finding food. Surviving. It’s what most of us are doing while rebels try to shake things up.
Disagreements within the bird kingdom are kept local and limited to brief skirmishes. They have no courts to settle disputes. Questions that arise regarding territorial boundaries or squabbles over feeding privileges are resolved quickly without broader consensus. Birds don’t watch the news or spend hours on social media trying to sort facts from endless claims. They stay focused on the business at hand and assure disruptions are short lived and of minimum consequence. This they do as they play out a crucial role in the circle of life, providing ecological services that help keep us alive. This they do as their numbers worldwide plummet as a result of our activities.
I watched our dog chase a raccoon up a pole and out of reach. After a short time the dog feigned defeat. She lowered her head, took three steps out of sight, waited briefly, then returned with fangs bared just as the raccoon reached the ground. Perhaps if the dog and raccoon shared a language there would have been civil discussion; the raccoon reasoning from atop the pole, the dog deliberating from below. Maybe it would lead to a treaty wherein the raccoon would have free reign over a plot of land outside the dog’s patrolled territory and the dog would agree knowing the treaty would be short lived, because that’s just the kind of dog she is. It’s how we dishonored agreements with native Americans; it’s what our leaders do today as they say one thing and do another. Deception and lies complicate and disrupt progress. Distrust fuels conspiracy.
The bucket of dough sits on the floor near the wood stove. The yeast is tending to business, feeding on carbohydrates, generating carbon dioxide, alcohol, and heat. They collectively determine whether the outcome is a lofty, aromatic loaf or a flat, tasteless cracker. Provided the right environment the yeast will respond flawlessly, carrying out a timeless and invaluable service of decomposition. I lift the lid to check progress. The dough is rising nicely, the yeast byproducts sweeten the air.
Somewhere shortly after the start of the Industrial Age we began to ignore an unwritten treaty between ourselves and our planet. It stated that in exchange for ideal living conditions we would recognize and respect an endless stream of necessary ecological services provided at no cost. We gave the treaty a sideward glance then set to work converting abundant natural resources to capital. We worked hard, used our ingenuity, developed technologies, built wealth, improved our standard of living, and demonstrated greed and ignorance in the process. We were innocent enough in the beginning but the consequences of our actions have long been recognized yet ignored. We have allowed our numbers to multiply to the breaking point, depleted resources and buried key components of the treaty under our waste.
It’s past dawn now, the day is underway. In Washington, a few who have stood silently behind a curtain of lies are speaking out. The virus runs rampant and is mutating as the first wave of vaccines struggles to get administered. It’s cloudy, sloppy by day, firm by night. The birds and yeast are oblivious, steadfast to their objectives. The earth adjusts to our presence.
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