THE BIRD, THE WATCHER

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DISTANT MOMENTS STILL ALIVE

3:09

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I shall try to make plain the blood lines of killing
To often this has been slurred over by those who defend hawks
Flesh-eating man is in no way superior
It's so easy to love the dead
The word predator is baggy with misuse
All birds eat living flesh
At some time in their lives
Consider the cold-eyed thrush,
That springy carnivore of lawns
Worm Stabber
Basher to death of snails
We should not sentimentalize his song
And forget the killing that sustains it
In my diary of a single winter
I have tried to preserve a unity
Binding together
The bird, the watcher
And the place that holds them both
Everything I describe
Took place while I was watching it
But I do not believe
That honest observation is enough
The emotions
And behaviors
Of the watcher
Are also facts
And they must be truthfully recorded

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