Posts Tagged ‘survival’
Survival Mode
I hardly recognize myself lately. What’s changed? Well, try as I might, my usual fascination with the Olympic Games just isn’t occurring this year. If I were to guess, the main culprit is probably this feeling that our country is at war with itself and is an embarrassment on the global stage.
Being a fan of athletic competition has been a big part of what brings me joy throughout my life. Having that passion fade feels a little too similar to depression. At the same time, I readily admit that the collapse of ethical guidelines we’ve witnessed since a certain sick-minded portion of our country has enacted its selfish dominance over the masses is very depressing.
Having overcome the deadly grip of the dark disease of depression allows me to recognize that there is a difference between being stuck in the affliction and merely feeling depressed about something. I thank the Universe for the lesson of becoming conscious of my self-talk and how it has given me power over the mental dysfunctions of depression.
Instead of thinking about sports last week, I allowed myself to become immersed in the survival exploits of participants in Season 11 of the reality TV series, “Alone.” Originally broadcast on the History Channel, I came across the show on Netflix, where I binged 13 hours in a few days.
I think I was appreciating the escape from current events. The resulting influence on me was a change from walking into my day with a spring in my step after some heroic home-team victory in pro or college football, basketball, or hockey, and mentally reliving some valiant run, kick, or shot in my mind’s eye. Those moments that lead to a call or text to a comrade to share a “Did you see that!?” reliving of the thrill.
No, as I don my “space suit” of winter outerwear and begin the journey along our snow-packed trails through the woods, I now hear myself narrating our survival tactics as if my life is under the same constant camera surveillance as the competitors of the show.
Why else would this series appeal? As viewers place themselves in the role of the survivalists in an attempt to perceive the epic battles for adequate food, shelter, and mental stability being undertaken, it begins to seamlessly parallel each of our daily lives.
Imagine if you had to film every action you take and narrate the hows and whys.
I am going to build a fire in the fireplace in a few moments, and I do not doubt that the activities of the contestants will be on my mind.
And it won’t be in the least way depressive. We will survive!
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Last One
And then there was one. Cyndie came inside from feeding the horses yesterday around dinner time and reported that the Buff Orpington was the only chicken under the barn overhang.
The chickens are usually eager for her afternoon chores because they get a fresh serving of treats to eat. It was uncharacteristic for the two Barred Plymouth Rock hens to not show up. In addition, it was snowing like crazy, so it seemed odd that they would be off gallivanting around the property without the Buff.
That pointed to nothing good.
I put on my winter gear and joined Cyndie and Delilah in a scouting mission around the grounds. We circled past the trail cam, and I grabbed the memory card from it.
Cyndie had picked up three eggs from the coop in the afternoon, but our search didn’t come across any tracks revealing recent activity in the vicinity.
We headed inside with a sinking feeling of more loss.
For all the multitude of empty scenes that regularly show up on the trail cam, this time we landed one positive ID out of the nine images on the card.
That little fox walking toward the fence was ten minutes ahead of Cyndie and Delilah walking down that trail on their noon trek. They never saw it, but I bet Delilah smelled the scent.
We took a tiny bit of solace in the fact there was no chicken in the fox’s mouth in the image.
At dusk, with a looming trepidation, Cyndie went down to close the coop. The Buff was in there all by herself. With Delilah, Cyndie walked one more loop around the back pasture for any sign of what may have happened.
It was Delilah who took noticeable interest in a dark spot inside the fence. Cyndie tied Delilah outside and climbed through the wires and found the proof of our worst fear.
Now we are wondering if we will be able to accelerate the introduction of our new chicks to the lone surviving chicken from last year’s flock. The poor girl must have been cold and lonely all alone last night in the coop.
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Relative Something 