It was here nested in this pristine region known as Jumbo Glacier, that all its inhabitants sought refuge from the species of our kind, and in doing so found realms of tranquility and the perfection of an uncompromising disposition. In parallelism to the forested scenery, the sovereignty of the Creator reigned here.
Now a red-tailed hawk had perched itself on a knoll… in a dead tree overlooking the vast expansion of this vista. This monarch of the sky was unsatisfied with the survey of some men, who now thought to deforest this part of the countryside — leaving it with a desolate look of a wasteland — a sight equivalent to the scare made by a small atomic bomb. This disorderly scene she would soon be made to witness would not be engaged without a rude degree of machine noise, which alarmingly would wake even a near deaf grizzly on the other side of the ridge. Though this event is of common distinction to our species, it was perhaps the conscientious deficiency of these intruders — being without earth reverence, which ensured the audacity.
Thus, the observation naturally stimulated her dignity to where the meadowlands within her valleys heard this inhabitant declare an ensemble of issues openly in a scornful defiance:
“Mankind’s sacrilegious understanding of the phenomenon, we call Mother Earth, is a grievance of impending consequence; hence, such ignorance invariably condemns him apart from the sanity of keeping her whole and green.”
Obviously, the immensity of the glacier region dilemma confounded the noble creature. Incidentally, like the rest of the inhabitants, each day of her life was a celebration too, but presently, more discouraging than any of those which went before.
She proclaimed, “The panorama of my glorious surroundings is charming and enchanting. Under the auspicious exuberance of Creation, the trees go on growing without anyone’s curriculum how to grow. Staying in alignment with the enormities of Creation, my fellow animals, fish and birds, the whole of our existence, necessitates no advanced progression as its protocol to happiness. So that the air remains of it utmost purity and the water stays refreshingly cool and crystal clear, there is no aggressive escalating course of un-harmonizing agendas conceivable within the scope of our consciousness.”
This was no observation to put us to rest. For our feather friend, reverence of Mother Earth was her only true realty, the only true approach to existence which has not put fetters on her kind… had not made caged sparrows out of born sky monarchs.
However, it would soon be for some the usual work day of running bulldozers through a forest, another day at the office rubbing elbows between government officials; each one as shamefully reckless and gluttonous as another, which will be made as long as it remained quite unknown, what character the Earth Mother and her Sovereign Creator was really made of.
“Indeed, propagating this perpetual epidemic of gluttony will only be the ruin of us all.” This last comment broke out of her like a cry; and at that, whether anger of her prediction choked her utterance, or whether she perceived this was an imperative sort of prayer, at least she suddenly came to a full stop, and straightened the crown upon her head. Indeed, in these days we can scarce reconcile our indifference to her authentic reverie; after all, it is upon these passages of words we deserve censure from our consciousness.
But it is not easy to have the last word with men of our species. They were ready in a moment with their own candid appraisal, “Wow Bill, if only I had my gun; that’s a bigger bird than I shot last year.”