Of Mouse and Eagle...

( this little ditty from a few years back, a tasty tidbit overlooked in the archives)

It was a favorite poster of my childhood, the hopelessly overmatched little mouse flipping off the bird of prey about to make a meal of him.  And the title was, of course, defiance. 

A few years later came a second edition, also dear to my heart.  Again the bird of prey with talons outstretched, and again the little mouse with his middle finger extended.  But this time the mouse's other hand is concealed behind his back holding a chrome automag, the pistol of all pistols.  Never mind such a weapon would outweigh the little mouse a hundred to one, or that the recoil would convert the tiny hero to strawberry jam… setting all this aside our mouse among mice has determined to stand his ground and with his final act make sure that damnable bird doesn't make it home either.  Defiance, second generation.

It has been many years since I have seen my mousy heroes.  But I see their philosophical offspring every day in the news, and I wonder what manner of mouse is preparing to take the field next in defense of a few crumbs and seeds for his offspring.  It is a pressing subject as I watch fate thrust so many back into the role of struggling for simple survival in a world dominated by the eagle's arrogant mass consumption.   

Mice do not eat meat, but they become meat to those who do. What hope has the mouse, forever certain of his place in a food chain where he is always the provider?  And those who eat meat consider this proper, and why should they not?  They were raised from hatchlings to know they are the elite, predators, the highest order of existence.  Just ask them.  The eagle knows no fear, no want.  There has never been a shortage of mice and rabbits and doves for it to eat.  But for the mouse there is never a shortage of threats:  the cat, the eagle, the snake, they are all about, silent, deadly, harboring an implacable and unexplained hatred for all creatures who do no belong to their kind.  The mouse suffers and survives only by stealth and procreation, litter after litter enduring poverty and fear hoping two from every litter of ten will live long enough to breed and continue the species. It is a rough world for the mouse.

The callous dismiss this as the balance of nature, and turn away.  They do not, they dare not, they cannot tolerate what emerges when these symbols are applied to the societies of the world… the results are terrifying beyond their courage to face.

It is, of course, the mouse with the pistol of whom I speak.  He was institution raised on dreams of dignity, he has struggled all his life to become smarter and stronger (for a mouse) in the hope of winning that prize of prizes.  For him it is such a shattering revelation to realize what he dreamed served no purpose beyond inducing him to become a tastier meal for the eagles of his world.  It is his despair that has driven the mouse to take arms, causes him to ignore the fact his weapon will be just as lethal to he himself.  C'mon, who ever heard of a mouse who could defend himself, wield any pistol, much less a magnum?  Ridiculous. 

But like all stories there is another side.  With the mouse's first and last shot for the first time death invaded the eagles world as it has always been known to the mouse.  He was just picking up a mouse to feed  to the chicks, and bang, he was killed.  Unforgivable.  No eagle should know fear, give second thought to his own safety when he hunts… it is his birthright to harvest without concern.  The eagles numbers are diminished by one, but far worse the innocence of the eagles consummate arrogance has been destroyed.

Does this little parable sound familiar?  It should.  It is how the United States has been behaving ever since the attack of  9/11, acting like eagles who have suddenly learned the hard way even a mouse can now do the mighty eagle mortal harm.  The eagles, of course, take little solace in the fact our mousy gunner was indeed turned into strawberry jam by the recoil, after all, he was only a mouse, and they don't count.

I must challenge you now: look at the news for a week or two and count how many mice are mentioned.  Some are groups, others individuals, some are nations, but all share in the mouse's world.  They all live in fear, and they all feel preyed on by creatures whose very existence is predicated on inflicting the suffering the mouse and his kindred have endured for time beyond memory.  Events say far to many feel a dignified death in battle a better choice than a life without even the hope of dignity in the eyes of the world.

Our world is full of eagles and mice, divided out not by religion or race or gender, no, the dividing line is the self righteous attitude all things are allowed the predator, the bloody heritage of one of histories great lies, the lie that might makes right, that war can make peace… a lie newly found by the mice.

Ours is a much smaller world than it was, and the very things that caused it to shrink have brought weapons capable of terrible destruction within the reach of even the smallest. The forces of science and technology have shifted the balances.  The eagle would do well to learn respect for this fact,  for victory on the field of battle can only assure him famine, the mouse has no such constraint. The eagle would do well to learn compassion as well, for when the competition is in endurance the mouse has the advantage, his culture has been honed by millennium of evolution to the task of surviving massive loss of life and continuing on.

Eagles, beware, for if you do not heed this lesson it will be the vultures who take your place.