I love films and screen them at a local cultural center every Thursday, and after a year and a half, one night I said "What the hell, let 'er rip" and began to watch films along with the rest of the audience, that is to say, I stopped screening them beforehand and went along for the ride during showtime.
Tonight we saw Werner Herzog's latest film, a documentary of Timothy Treadwell and Amie Hugenard, who lived in Alaska with grizzly bears for thirteen summers, until they were both killed and eaten by one of the creatures they loved and attempted to protect.
Now, to be fair to such a fair and majestic creature as the grizzly bear, the evidence points to the fact that Timothy and Amie were not killed by a grizzly of the tribe of which they became members. After a long summer season with the bears, Treadwell became enraged with the bureaucracy of an airline at an Alaskan airport and returned to bear country during a dangerous migration season, replete with unknown bears, and that's when he and Amie, his faithful companion, met their match.
During the final days, Treadwell and Hugenard filmed a bear repeatedly diving in a river, seemingly in a playfull manner, but actually in desperate hunger for any fish carcasses in the bottom. And then the director, Herzog narrates: "While Treadwell saw humanity in the bear's eyes, I could see nothing but a half-boredom combined with a desperate hunger".
"While Treadwell saw humanity in the bear's eyes, I could see nothing but a half-boredom combined with a desperate hunger". Treadwell saw it too in other scenes, there's a bear cub skull, eaten by other bears, as well as a cub arm, the other bears having eaten the rest. There's a heart-breaking image of a baby fox eaten from the shoulders down.
All the while, a heartbroken Treadwell says "I love you I love you I love you", (check this phrase out, I can't figure out a better way to describe it) explicitly implying in front of the victim that he wishes that nature weren't the way it is.
Now this is where I come in: goddamit, every time I get there on time, I rescue mice from my cats and release them. If I were the size of a mouse, I'd get eaten by my cute wittle baby furballs. BTW, I have four domestics and four ferals.
Of course humans and cats are fantastic for each other, history has proven that several times over. Of course cats were bred by humans (starting with ancient egyptians, or maybe sumerians) and became cuter and furrier and snugglier as time has come along, just look at Leonardo's cat sketches, they look similar, but not quite like, today's cats, (and if there's ever been a master draughtsman, it's Leonardo).
What am I getting at, in an incredibly long-winded way?
If you have a cat, always be aware that you have a predator. A hunter that hunts different things that humans do, which makes us non-competitive, therefore compatible, and even beneficial to each other.
Always be aware that you have a cat. I am proud to say in this forum that I share space with eight feline friends.
As humans, we can afford to be all woogly-oogly-goobly-boo-boo with our cats, but...mmmmm...I don't like it. I'd rather have my hand peacefully resting on the belly of my little hunter while we're both asleep, if you know what I mean. Understanding and respecting their efforts.
One night, several years ago, I was in bed, doing the NYT Crossword, when suddenly Bebita, my little baby girl came in, jumped onto the bed and my chest, then dropped a live country mouse on my chest! Oh my God. She found and grabbed the mouse somewhere around the house, thinking of me!
Bebita's brother, the long-gone hobo Yuri, twice showed me baby rattlesnakes before eating them in front of my eyes, earning him the nickname Yuri: King Of Snake, by one of the cool techno DJ's in town.
To conclude: hunters. I'm looked up to by a tribe of REAL and incorrigible hunters, while I don't even own or want a gun myself. I have no choice but to accept and love.
Oh, BTW BTW!: All this while, I've been listening to The Clash, baby, yeah! Even though my cats prefer Billie Holiday.
Tonight we saw Werner Herzog's latest film, a documentary of Timothy Treadwell and Amie Hugenard, who lived in Alaska with grizzly bears for thirteen summers, until they were both killed and eaten by one of the creatures they loved and attempted to protect.
Now, to be fair to such a fair and majestic creature as the grizzly bear, the evidence points to the fact that Timothy and Amie were not killed by a grizzly of the tribe of which they became members. After a long summer season with the bears, Treadwell became enraged with the bureaucracy of an airline at an Alaskan airport and returned to bear country during a dangerous migration season, replete with unknown bears, and that's when he and Amie, his faithful companion, met their match.
During the final days, Treadwell and Hugenard filmed a bear repeatedly diving in a river, seemingly in a playfull manner, but actually in desperate hunger for any fish carcasses in the bottom. And then the director, Herzog narrates: "While Treadwell saw humanity in the bear's eyes, I could see nothing but a half-boredom combined with a desperate hunger".
"While Treadwell saw humanity in the bear's eyes, I could see nothing but a half-boredom combined with a desperate hunger". Treadwell saw it too in other scenes, there's a bear cub skull, eaten by other bears, as well as a cub arm, the other bears having eaten the rest. There's a heart-breaking image of a baby fox eaten from the shoulders down.
All the while, a heartbroken Treadwell says "I love you I love you I love you", (check this phrase out, I can't figure out a better way to describe it) explicitly implying in front of the victim that he wishes that nature weren't the way it is.
Now this is where I come in: goddamit, every time I get there on time, I rescue mice from my cats and release them. If I were the size of a mouse, I'd get eaten by my cute wittle baby furballs. BTW, I have four domestics and four ferals.
Of course humans and cats are fantastic for each other, history has proven that several times over. Of course cats were bred by humans (starting with ancient egyptians, or maybe sumerians) and became cuter and furrier and snugglier as time has come along, just look at Leonardo's cat sketches, they look similar, but not quite like, today's cats, (and if there's ever been a master draughtsman, it's Leonardo).
What am I getting at, in an incredibly long-winded way?
If you have a cat, always be aware that you have a predator. A hunter that hunts different things that humans do, which makes us non-competitive, therefore compatible, and even beneficial to each other.
Always be aware that you have a cat. I am proud to say in this forum that I share space with eight feline friends.
As humans, we can afford to be all woogly-oogly-goobly-boo-boo with our cats, but...mmmmm...I don't like it. I'd rather have my hand peacefully resting on the belly of my little hunter while we're both asleep, if you know what I mean. Understanding and respecting their efforts.
One night, several years ago, I was in bed, doing the NYT Crossword, when suddenly Bebita, my little baby girl came in, jumped onto the bed and my chest, then dropped a live country mouse on my chest! Oh my God. She found and grabbed the mouse somewhere around the house, thinking of me!
Bebita's brother, the long-gone hobo Yuri, twice showed me baby rattlesnakes before eating them in front of my eyes, earning him the nickname Yuri: King Of Snake, by one of the cool techno DJ's in town.
To conclude: hunters. I'm looked up to by a tribe of REAL and incorrigible hunters, while I don't even own or want a gun myself. I have no choice but to accept and love.
Oh, BTW BTW!: All this while, I've been listening to The Clash, baby, yeah! Even though my cats prefer Billie Holiday.
