How Long Is A Life

 

                                                                              Northern Goshawk

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
― George Berkeley

The age old question.  I guess it depends on your perspective and your belief on the centrality of human existence.  If you ask the forest, the sound is everywhere. 

The creatures that walk on the ground feel the vibrations of the tree falling to earth with all its weight.  The creatures of the air see it on its downward arc and feel the air waves as it goes.  The small critters find refuge in its reclining body – a place to raise their young, find shelter from the weather, protection from predators.  The microbes and decomposers find nourishment and release the tree to replenish the soil.  And the replenished soil feeds the earth and begins the cycle again for a tree and all that lives there. They all know that sound of a tree falling.

So when a bird falls in the forest, does it make a sound?  Many people I talk to comment that wildlife rehab must be very rewarding.  And it is.  But if I go on to explain the percentage of birds that don’t make it and the ones that must be euthanized, the comment more often is, I didn’t think of that aspect.  The loss of life that confronts a rehabber takes its toll.  The loss of the goshawk in my care most recently was one of those heart breakers.  Unable to fly he was brought to me and upon xray we discovered a pellet in one of his wings.  That in itself was enough to put me over the edge.  So unnecessary and cruel.  

Keeping accipiters (a group of hawks including Cooper’s, Sharp-shinned, and Goshawks) in captivity is difficult.  They tend to beat themselves to death on cages and/or not eat.  Fortunately, this particular goshawk finally started to eat on his own.  Excited that he was eating, I moved him to an outside mew.  He was eating well and acting fierce like a goshawk.  Then we had an early winter snowstorm.  I went out the next morning to check on him and found him curled up in his box.  Panicked, I grabbed him, brought him inside and tried to warm him up.  Apparently not having enough weight on him to protect him from the cold and wet, he died.  I felt angry, frustrated, and just plain guilty that I couldn’t keep him alive. Why do I keep doing this?  I help so few compared to the big picture.  The ones I save are just a drop in the proverbial bucket.  Who hears the bird fall in the forest?

I have to say again, the forest is there to hear and see and know.  And death is a part of that hearing and seeing and knowing. One cannot be part of the forest and not be aware of all that goes on there, the tree falling, the bird falling, life and death and all it holds in between.  One cannot be part of nature and not hear, see and know.

Whenever I see birds in the middle of winter, I marvel at the fact any can survive.  I follow them soar and take up their watch posts looking for a good meal.  In parting I wish them all good hunting.  And so I wish my goshawk good hunting in the afterlife.  Wishful thinking to make me feel better?  Probably.  But when the bird falls in the forest, the forest hears.  And I hear too.  I hear you when you fall.  There is sound everywhere.   Good hunting my friend.