Quirks

     We are all have our little quirks.  Cough, cough, some people more than others, cough, and I like to think, or hope, that those quirks make us more memorable and lovable to some extent.  Another bonus of going to the cabin for me is that I get to indulge in one of my favourites.  I love returning small dead animals, usually on roads, back to nature.  We all deserve respect in death.  Mice, voles, shrews, birds (depending on how intact they still are and if their species is a common disease carrier) and whatever I can manage to move with sticks I find on the roadside should be treated with care and reverence too.
     A few days ago, my pal and I were walking up to another friend's cabin via a shared driveway with tenants.  We were chatting with our friend's father, who had been sawing wood in the drive, when I noticed something small, light grey, and soft looking in the wood chip strewn dirt. 

     My first reaction was to search for appropriate burial transportation twigs.  Of course my friend knew what to expect, she had bared witness to many of my impromptu celebration of life ceremonies in her time.  My friend's father, on the other hand, was slightly confused at first.  Thankfully, he is a quirky man and did not question the valour of my strange task.

       I had a little trouble picking up the shrew with my chopstick arrangement, I'm used to honouring animals with holes in them or flat spots, so I wanted to keep this little critter intact and unmarred.  I finally got the wee shrew secured between the twigs and took it over to an ivy covered stump.  I consulted the baffled tenant,who had been helping our friend's father and his land lord, and laid the tiny creature to rest beneath the emerald leaves.
     This was when our friend's father decided to introduce me to the tenant.
     "Haaaaaaaaaave you met Cari?" he asked the slighly disgruntled islander.
     I feel no shame from what I do.  Morbid? A little bit.  Gross?  Maybe to some.  I love giving animals peace after losing their lives at the hands of humans.  Be it inadvertently by run-ins with larger carnivorous pets or by car or by poison, I will be there to offer some form of solace.  In the end, we are all alone.  We are all animals.  You don't often see humans rotting by the side of the road now do you?  Why should a mouse?  This is one of my many missions in life.

     Do not get me wrong, I am NOT burying each dead mammal individually.  I fling them into bushes and say a few garbled words.  "Thank you for your time on this earth, peace be with you little creature-y sweet" is along the lines of what I end up rambling.  I probably just like poking dead things with a stick, but I prefer to think I am benevolent.