Musings: Making Sense of it All

Awoke to the call of a Newell's shearwater, a sound I've been hearing a lot this year, encouragingly, and found Moon, a golden grin, shining in my window, with Jupiter beaming by her side. 

I took it as an invitation to go walking, which Koko and Paele gladly accepted. 

We hadn't gone far when wild pigs grunted a greeting (warning?) that got the dogs all excited and as they strained against their leashes a barn owl flew overhead, so low I could see its scalloped feathers, its pale, heart-shaped face.

Good morning!

Pink clouds, orange clouds, an explosion of color on the horizon.

Back home, checked the bees, already hard at it, and then the nest a little shama thrush has made in a rather vulnerable spot that neither the neighborhood cats nor my dogs have discovered.

Then I checked email and found a link to a story about how Wisconsin sent out a squad of nine wildlife agents and four deputy sheriffs to take down a fawn at an animal shelter there, resulting in death threats against the Department of Natural Resources.

And I was reminded of the comment that Beth-Ann Kozlovich made when she interviewed me on HPR's “The Conversation” this past Monday about how federal laws had failed to prevent the shabby treatment of a disabled 95-year-old woman living at Lihue Court.

“[W]here's the common sense?” Beth-Ann asked.

Exactly.