“All of a sudden, nowhere to go, nothing to do, streets empty, sky quiet, just birds. trees. buildings. I think of a poem called “Keeping Quiet” by Neruda. tonight I’ll call it ‘COVID-19,” tweeted Kierán Suckling, Executive Director of the Center for Biological Diversity. His words, and Pablo Neruda’s, reflect my thoughts about a population withdrawn into itself by pandemic, as humans step back and focus on surviving day by day instead of spreading out into the world. We shift into our animalness and by doing so relax our domination of nature.
The Daily Bucket is a nature refuge. We amicably discuss animals, weather, climate, soil, plants, waters and note life’s patterns spinning around us.
We invite you to note what you are seeing around you in your own part of the world, and to share your observations in the comments below.
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The skies are clear and quiet as airplane traffic diminishes. Freeways “without rush without engines” are easier for mountain lions to cross as they move among habitat patches.
Without the pressure of tourism and city life, water is spared our pollution. Fish and swans relish our absence.
Captive penguins had a chance to visit other captives from a faraway biome.
Good dogs take care of humans forced to stay home all day.
Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Needs more penguins.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
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