I’m driving home from work a couple of nights ago on one of three lanes. On the other side of the island are three other lanes headed in the opposite direction. In the middle, on this island, is a frazzled squirrel. He’s scared and obviously out of his element. On either side of this six lane road are trees and grass. Not necessarily home, but definitely a more suitable environment for the likes of him. He’s tiny compared to the vehicles which, to his hypersensitive ears, must sound like roaring monsters. He leaps off into oncoming traffic but quickly realizes that this it is an unwise decision. Perhaps another time… he hesitates for a split second longer and leaps out into traffic again. A second and then a third close encounter with an SUV and then a pick up truck ensue. I clench my teeth and close my eyes in fear at each failed attempt to and from the island but know he’ll soon change his mind and consider crossing the road on my side of traffic. Surely enough a fraction of a second after that thought has crossed my mind, He dashes in front of my car. I’ve been watching him and dreading the moment when he decides to make his move. Panic has driven him into a suicide mission I think. If he could just sit still. I slow down and hold my breath hoping he’d managed get past my tires but at the same time half anticipating the thud and bump under my wheel. As I see him emerge on the other side I let out a huge sigh of relief only to inhale once again almost instantaneously as the realization that, with two more lanes to conquer, he’s far from danger. The lady on my right manages to slow down in time and once again I see him emerge on the other side of her vehicle. He’s good for two out of three. But unfortunately I know all too well that almost good enough won’t quite cut it. The third lane is occupied by a man in his 40’s who is not in a car but rather a boat. An almost extinct model of a 1980’s Chevrolet caprice to be exact. He seems preoccupied with the thoughts in his head or the traffic ahead and as he approaches the squirrel I can’t help but think, even if he does see him he won’t attempt to break. Both fortunately and unfortunately I am right. The squirrel is hit, but not enough to become road kill. He’s still frantic and is dragging his hind legs along behind him on the pavement. The cars have moved on, the squirrel is on the side walk and the man in this car is turning the corner completely undisturbed by what has just taken place.
Several days later, I am still distraught about these series of events for several reasons.
1) The sight of a supposedly wild animal in the middle of an urban area constructed primarily on this animal’s home is of little meaning to the average Joe. We feel as though it is our right to own the roads and occupy them with automobiles that endanger the likes of this creature on a daily basis. It is an extremely intrusive ideology that allows our needs as humans to be categorized with greater importance than those of animals that can not advocate for their own cause. Is this the role was play in the survival of the fittest game? Are these obvious instant rewards in fact attributable to humans being the fittest or will our short sights now be nature’s way of showing us who is fittest after all?
2) In my mind 2 out of 3 lanes constitutes a 66.66% success rate and for the most part, 66.6%. is good enough. The comfort with just enough to get by instead of the expectation of 100% is indicative of an individual who has succumbed to the status quo. The routine. The don’t rock the boat itis!
3) The option of stopping was not feasible if it meant endangering my life or those of the passengers in vehicles behind me. What right do I have to decide that human life is more valuable than that of a squirrel? Surely I need to recognize that in the grand scheme of things I am just as miniscule as the squirrel? How would I feel if my life (as in the case back in the homeland) just as dispensable as this squirrel’s life was to me?
4) I almost expected the squirrel to die even though I was hoping it wouldn’t. Knowing that I was not the one responsible for his death however, made it sit a little easier on my conscience. Which makes me ask, is this what people do when they think of the famines in Africa or the wars fought in far off lands?
5) Something deep down inside me, call it intuition or call it experience, allowed me to see that the man in the caprice would not stop. I was not distraught by this notion in the least. It is not a dark grim world when we as humans acknowledge accept and deal with our own inhumanity as though it were the way of the world?
6) Though unfortunate that the squirrel survived that experience with an injury, I can’t help but wonder what its like to feel those near death intense emotions. Had he not been injured, would he have lived his life any less recklessly? Would there be any sort of guarantee that two days, weeks, months or years down the line he wouldn’t end up in the same predicament?
7) I was reminded of the time I actually did hit a squirrel on the way home from the US. I was traveling at a ridiculous speed and swerving to avoid him/her meant I’d definitely end up dead in the ditch. It was a two way street and there was an 18 wheel truck on the other side of traffic. Regardless, Images of baby squirrels anticipating the return of their mother filled my mind and creeping thoughts labeling me as a killer quickly over whelmed me and eventually brought me to tears. It was coincidentally then that a friend of mine called me. After relaying the story back to him, he casually responded by saying “it was the squirrel’s time to go… if it wasn’t you it was going to be someone or something else. Don’t beat yourself about it.” And just like that… I let go of my reality and accepted his and with it a calmness about the situation. Upon further introspection today, I’m left thinking…my reality is different from the next person’s reality, and if my reality is so different from the next persons’ reality where and how do we draw common grounds between each of our own individual realities?
