Yesterday was largely a fun day. I woke up, and headed off to train a client on Final Cut Pro X and media management. We have a great relationship – I can read what she’s trying to do, and teach her how to do it. One of the greatest rewards is seeing the light of understanding go off in someone’s eyes, and how excited they get. It’s one of the reasons I love teaching.
Yes. People get excited about media management. Deal with it.
After that, I headed off to training which I haven’t been to in… oh, two or three weeks due to cold-from-hell and a hard work deadline, but I had a really great time, even if I got punched in the face (my fault). It’s a good gang and I got to train with Sonya, who is the person who encouraged me return. Her patience with me is impressive.
I left class in a good mood, listened to some tunes (opening with In This Moment’s Adrenalize which set a tone of walking fast), then talked to a friend on the phone for a bit.
My long walks are a way of forcing me to disconnect and to look at the world around me.
I see wonder everywhere I look, especially in spring, as the world around us comes back to life.
About ninety minutes into the journey home, I was walking through a dark area and took the opportunity to look at the night sky while walking. There’s a bit of a trick to it – surveying the sidewalk for the next few metres, looking up, watching and then checking the sidewalk again. Sometimes I’ll come to a full stop to look more closely at the sky for a couple of minutes.
Like last night. I stepped off the sidewalk onto the grass to look at the sky a bit more steadily. The road was largely quiet, with the wind passing through the trees.
I’d noticed a squirrel leaping around off in the distance – curious (they’re largely diurnal), but I was distracted by the night sky.
In the distance behind me, I heard a car accelerating hard. Not too unusual – people seem to think long, straight roads are race courses.
What I didn’t see was the squirrel head to the street, but as the car passed by me, I heard an odd thunk and a piercing shriek I’ll not forget for some time.
I turned my night-adjusted eyes to the road – all I saw was a dark car heading accelerating down the road. There’s no way for me to describe it any more than that.
Many of you know me from my work in the world of technology. And while I love this work, I share an equal passion for nature. I venerate life. With few exceptions, I will go to great length to avoid killing something (which is how we ended up with a pet mouse for five months some years ago).
The shrieking continued, so I went to see the source, knowing what had happened – car vs squirrel. Usually such contests are instantly fatal, but tonight that wasn’t the case.
The black squirrel had been flung by the impact back onto the grass. I won’t describe the gore of the situation, but it was certainly fatal.
I studied the squirrel for a few seconds, and came to that obvious conclusion.
Somehow, it managed to turn enough for our eyes to meet.
We as humans anthropomorphize our interactions with animals, but I swear to you, it was begging me to end it’s suffering.
So I did the only thing I could; I apologized to the squirrel, then quickly and firmly crushed its skull with my shoe (if I hadn’t been wearing my steel-toed shoes, I’m not sure what I would have done).
The shrieking stopped.
Rationally, I know this was the right thing to do, but irrationally, emotionally, I feel guilty for it.
I *hate* that I had to do it, and I hate the person that made me have to do this.