This porcupine, more than anything else this summer, brought me a sense of peace and joy. I feel that if animals can find a sense of security here, on my property, in these woods, then maybe I can, too. His happy munching and cute feet made me light, made me happy, made me feel safe. For brief moments, I could pretend that all was right in the world.

And then, a woman in my neighborhood, told me today as we crossed paths at the mailhouse, that she recently shot "an old porcupine" in the face because it was eating her landscaped tree. I'm guessing it was this one, because I haven't seen it in weeks. In one brief statement to me, without fully understanding the harm she was causing me, she made me question every bit of safety and joy I had experienced.

She devastated me.

All I could imagine was this porcupine, standing up and looking at her like it did me, its slow movement completely vulnerable to a gun. It had zero protection against us, humans. My mind goes a lot of places when I am rocked to the core like that. How can I keep my kids safe in this world? How can I prove to them that people are good? How can I rationalize something that brought me so much peace brought her so much rage. Enough rage to destroy it.

I didn't write this so you would be as sad as me and the kids have been today. Annie and I cried and held each other while Leo took out all his aggression on the trampoline and jumped until he was exhausted, all of us missing the friend who used to saunter up our driveway every night. And I didn't write this to place any blame on this woman, either, nor to get into a debate about killing animals or hunting or eating meat. It's completely different to kill an animal for food, and this isn't about that. I am writing this because I'm hoping it's a useful tool to help us understand each other a bit more.

Back to co-creating the reality we live in; if we don't at least try, then what do we have left?

I'm also writing it because of how both of us (me and the woman at the mailhouse) handled the conversation surrounding this. I'm proud of both of us. In the moment she told me, I was caught off guard. And I'm not yet brave enough and practiced enough to speak my mind in a way that others can hear me (at least without taking several hours to think about it). Yes, I can swear and yell and rage, but I know that is ineffective and cowardly and comes from a place of fear.

So I mumbled something about please trap it next time and I'll remove it and I got in the car and I sped away.

I waited until I got home. I consoled the kids. We got angry and upset together. And then I picked up the phone. I called her and let her know how devastated we all were, and how sad. And to my surprise, she thanked me for calling, and said she felt bad about doing it. I could tell this is something that she is not going to do again. I appreciated that. Not enough to make up for the sadness I'm still feeling, but enough to put back the balance in the world a little bit. Enough to make me believe that we can be different and the same, all at the same time. Enough to make me believe we can speak up and others will listen. And then I thought about the reasons behind why she might have done something like this, and it made me realize how very much the same we all are.

Sometimes this land up here scares me. The mountain lions, the bears, yes, even the porcupine (will they eat the house? Will they quill our dogs?) The winters are terrifying - will the snow collapse the house? Am I strong enough to dig out if we have a huge storm? Will we get out in time if there is a fire? But I've been learning to give in a bit, and trust that all will be OK.

It's been a huge learning curve for me to give up that desire to control everything. I have a feeling that killing this porcupine (and yes, I'm guessing here) was a way for her to gain a sense of control and security. If she can control what happens to this one landscaped tree, perhaps she'll have control over bigger things?

I'm guessing, here was a way for her to gain a sense of control and security. If she can control what happens to this one landscaped tree, perhaps she'll have control over bigger things? But like I said at the beginning of this - you can't control what happens to you. You can only control how you respond to it.

So here's my response. A post in honor of this amazing being who brought two neighbors a little closer to understanding each other and brought some hope that there's a way to talk it out even if we feel at complete opposite ends of the spectrum. And some hope that we can come to an agreement and understanding. Perhaps the other porcupines she'll encounter will have a safe space on her land like they do mine. Perhaps she'll let go of that need to control what comes in and out of her life and let it be, like I have tried to do. Perhaps she'll find a little more beauty in things that might seem threatening.

That's life, right? One big, scary adventure.

(-posted by one of our neighbors)

Slipping into your bitcoin-only feed with some NOSTR normie content, today a sad tale of a neighbor and a porcupine.

#grownostr

#nostr

#nature

#porcupine

😭😭😭😭😭