Snakes on a Crane

This morning, I saw a long-legged bird scratching for worms. I was still fifty yards away or so when I saw the bird pull up a very large worm. As I got closer, I realized it was a small snake. It was twisting and writhing, and the bird tipped up its head, trying to gulp the snake down its throat.

As I went past, I watched. I was torn between wanting to save the snake, and a philosophical call to the circle of life. I don't have any particular fear or hatred of snakes, nor any great love for them either. Same with birds. I suppose my decision to do nothing was born from my ambivalence rather than any hesitance to intervene.

I continued on my journey, thinking of the snake and the bird, and was reminded of a poem by Stephen Crane...

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter
And because it is my heart."