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Kuishi Kama Weasels

Mbwa ni mwitu. Nani anajua anachofikiria? Analala kwenye tundu lake la chini ya ardhi, mkia wake umetanda juu ya pua yake. Wakati mwingine anaishi kwenye pango lake kwa siku mbili bila kuondoka. Huku nje, yeye huwanyemelea sungura, panya, miskrats, na ndege, na kuua miili mingi kuliko anayoweza kula joto, na mara nyingi akiburuta mizoga hadi nyumbani. Kwa kutii silika, anauma mawindo yake shingoni, ama kupasua mshipa wa shingo kwenye koo au kuponda ubongo chini ya fuvu la kichwa, na haachi. Mtaalamu mmoja wa mambo ya asili alikataa kuua paa ambaye alikuwa amewekwa ndani ya mkono wake kwa kina kama nyoka. Mwanamume huyo hakuweza kwa njia yoyote kumng'oa paa huyo mdogo, na ilimbidi atembee nusu maili ili kumwagilia maji, paa huyo akining'inia kutoka kwenye kiganja chake, na kumloweka kama kibandiko cha ukaidi.

Na mara moja, asema Ernest Thompson Seton - wakati mmoja, mtu alimpiga tai kutoka angani. Alimchunguza tai na kukuta fuvu kavu la paa lililowekwa na taya kwenye koo lake. Mawazo ni kwamba tai alikuwa amempiga paa na paa alizunguka-zunguka na kuuma kama silika ilivyomfundisha, jino kwa shingo, na karibu kushinda. Ningependa kuona tai huyo kutoka angani wiki chache au miezi kadhaa kabla ya kupigwa risasi: je! Au je, tai alikula kile ambacho angeweza kufikia, akimkata paa aliye hai kwa makucha yake mbele ya kifua chake, akikunja mdomo wake, akisafisha mifupa yenye kupendeza inayopeperushwa hewani?

Nimekuwa nikisoma kuhusu weasel kwa sababu niliona wiki iliyopita. Nilimshtua mchwa ambaye alinishtua, tukatazamana kwa muda mrefu.

Dakika ishirini kutoka nyumbani kwangu, kupitia msituni kando ya machimbo na kuvuka barabara kuu, kuna Bwawa la Hollins, sehemu isiyo na kina sana, ambapo napenda kwenda machweo na kuketi kwenye shina la mti. Bwawa la Hollins pia huitwa Bwawa la Murray; inashughulikia ekari mbili za chini karibu na Tinker Creek na inchi sita za maji na pedi elfu sita za lily. Wakati wa majira ya baridi, waendeshaji wa kahawia-na-nyeupe husimama katikati yake, wakipunguza tu kwato zao; kutoka pwani ya mbali wanaonekana kama muujiza wenyewe, kamili na kutokujali kwa muujiza. Sasa, katika majira ya joto, waendeshaji wamekwenda. Mayungiyungi ya maji yamechanua na kuenea hadi kwenye ndege ya kijani kibichi iliyo mlalo ambayo ni terra firma hadi ndege weusi, na dari inayotetemeka hadi kwenye ruba weusi, kamba, na carp.

Hii ni, kumbuka, suburbia. Ni mwendo wa dakika tano katika pande tatu hadi safu za nyumba, ingawa hakuna inayoonekana hapa. Kuna barabara kuu ya mph 55 kwenye mwisho mmoja wa bwawa, na jozi ya bata wa mbao upande mwingine. Chini ya kila kichaka kuna shimo la muskrat au chupa ya bia. Mwisho kabisa ni msururu unaopishana wa mashamba na misitu, mashamba na misitu, iliyounganishwa kila mahali na nyimbo za pikipiki--ambazo kasa wa porini wa udongo hutaga mayai.

Kwa hiyo, nilikuwa nimevuka barabara kuu, nikapita juu ya ua mbili wa chini wa waya wenye miinuko, na kufuatilia njia ya pikipiki kwa shukrani zote kupitia rose pori na ivy yenye sumu ya ufuo wa bwawa hadi kwenye mashamba yenye nyasi nyingi. Kisha nikakata pori hadi kwenye mti ulioanguka wa mossy ambapo mimi hukaa. Mti huu ni bora. Inafanya benchi kavu, iliyoinuliwa kwenye sehemu ya juu, yenye majivu   ya bwawa, gati laini lililoinuliwa kutoka kwenye ufuo wa miiba kati ya maji yenye kina kifupi cha maji ya samawati na anga lenye kina kirefu cha buluu.

Jua lilikuwa limezama tu. Nilikuwa nimetulia kwenye shina la mti, nikiwa nimeshikwa kwenye paja la lichen, nikitazama pedi za lily miguuni mwangu zikitetemeka na sehemu ya ndoto juu ya njia ya kusukuma ya carp. Ndege wa manjano alionekana kulia kwangu na akaruka nyuma yangu. Ilichukua jicho langu; Nilizunguka huku na huko—na papo hapo , bila kuelezeka, nilikuwa nikitazama chini kwa paa, ambaye alikuwa akinitazama juu.

Weasel! Sijawahi kuona pori moja hapo awali. Alikuwa na urefu wa inchi kumi, mwembamba kama mkunjo, utepe wenye misuli, kahawia kama mti wa matunda, mwenye manyoya laini, macho. Uso wake ulikuwa mkali, mdogo na uliochongoka kama wa mjusi; angetengeneza mshale mzuri. Kulikuwa na nukta moja tu ya kidevu, labda nywele mbili za kahawia zenye thamani, na kisha manyoya meupe safi yakaanza kuenea chini yake. Alikuwa na macho mawili meusi ambayo sikuyaona, zaidi ya vile unavyoona dirisha.

Mbwa huyo alipigwa na butwaa akiwa ametulia alipokuwa akitoka chini ya msitu mkubwa wa waridi wenye nyasi wenye urefu wa futi nne. Nilipigwa na butwaa kwa utulivu nikijipinda kinyumenyume kwenye shina la mti. Macho yetu yalifungwa, na mtu akatupa ufunguo.

Mwonekano wetu ulikuwa kana kwamba wapenzi wawili, au maadui wabaya, walikutana bila kutarajia kwenye njia iliyokua wakati kila mmoja alikuwa akifikiria jambo lingine: pigo la kusafisha utumbo. Ilikuwa pia pigo mkali kwa ubongo, au kupigwa kwa ghafla kwa akili, na malipo yote na wavu wa karibu wa puto zilizosuguliwa. Ilimwaga mapafu yetu. Ilikata msitu, ikahamisha mashamba, na kumwaga bwawa; dunia ikasambaratika na kutumbukia kwenye tundu lile jeusi la macho. Ikiwa mimi na wewe tungetazamana kwa njia hiyo, mafuvu yetu yangegawanyika na kushuka kwenye mabega yetu. Lakini hatufanyi hivyo. Tunaweka fuvu zetu. Hivyo.

Alitoweka. Hii ilikuwa wiki iliyopita tu, na tayari sikumbuki ni nini kilivunja uchawi huo. Nafikiri nilipepesa macho, nadhani niliutoa ubongo wangu kutoka kwenye ubongo wa paa, na kujaribu kukariri nilichokuwa nikiona, na yule mwasisi akahisi msukumo wa kujitenga, msisimko wa kuchungulia katika maisha halisi na mkondo wa haraka wa silika. Alitoweka chini ya rose mwitu. Nilingoja bila kusonga, akili yangu imejaa data ghafla na roho yangu na maombi, lakini hakurudi.

Tafadhali usiniambie kuhusu "migogoro ya mbinu-kuepuka." Ninakuambia nimekuwa kwenye ubongo wa weasel kwa sekunde sitini, na alikuwa ndani yangu. Wabongo ni sehemu za faragha, wakinung'unika kupitia kanda za kipekee na za siri-lakini weasel na mimi tulichomeka kwenye kanda nyingine kwa wakati mmoja, kwa muda mtamu na wa kushtua. Je, ninaweza kuisaidia ikiwa ilikuwa tupu?

Ni nini kinaendelea katika ubongo wake wakati wote? Je, weasel anafikiria nini? Hatasema. Jarida lake ni nyimbo katika udongo, dawa ya manyoya, damu ya panya na mfupa: haijakusanywa, haijaunganishwa, jani huru, na kupulizwa.

Ningependa kujifunza, au kukumbuka, jinsi ya kuishi. Ninakuja Hollins Pond sio sana kujifunza jinsi ya kuishi kama, kusema ukweli, kusahau kuihusu. Yaani, sifikirii naweza kujifunza kutoka kwa mnyama wa mwitu jinsi ya kuishi hasa--je, ninyonye damu yenye joto, kushikilia mkia wangu juu, kutembea na nyayo zangu kwa usahihi juu ya alama za mikono yangu?--lakini ninaweza kujifunza kitu cha kutokuwa na akili, kitu cha usafi wa kuishi katika maana ya kimwili na heshima ya kuishi bila upendeleo au nia. Nguruwe anaishi kwa lazima na tunaishi kwa kuchagua, tukichukia ulazima na kufa mwishowe kwa ujinga katika makucha yake. Ningependa kuishi jinsi nipaswavyo, kama paa anaishi inavyopaswa. Na ninashuku kuwa kwangu njia ni kama ya weasel: wazi kwa wakati na kifo bila maumivu, nikigundua kila kitu, bila kukumbuka chochote, nikichagua aliyepewa kwa utashi mkali na ulio wazi.

Nilikosa nafasi yangu. Nilipaswa kwenda kwa koo. Mimi lazima lunged kwa kuwa Streak ya nyeupe chini ya kidevu weasel na kushikilia juu, uliofanyika kwa njia ya matope na ndani ya waridi mwitu, uliofanyika kwa maisha dearer. Tunaweza kuishi chini ya mwitu waridi kama weasels, bubu na uncomprehending. Ningeweza kwenda porini kwa utulivu sana. Ningeweza kuishi siku mbili kwenye tundu, nikiwa nimejikunja, nikiegemea manyoya ya panya, kunusa mifupa ya ndege, kupepesa macho, kulamba, kupumua miski, nywele zangu zikiwa zimening’inia kwenye mizizi ya nyasi. Chini ni mahali pazuri pa kwenda, ambapo akili ni moja. Chini ni nje, nje ya akili yako ya kupenda daima na kurudi kwa hisia zako za kutojali. Nakumbuka kunyamaza kama mfungo wa muda mrefu na wenye kelele, ambapo kila wakati ni sikukuu ya kutamka inayopokelewa. Wakati na matukio yanamiminwa tu, hayatambuliwi, na kumezwa moja kwa moja, kama vile damu inavyotiririka kwenye utumbo wangu kupitia mshipa wa shingo. Je, wawili wanaweza kuishi hivyo? Je, wawili wanaweza kuishi chini ya mwitu wa kufufuka, na kuchunguza kando ya bwawa, ili akili laini ya kila mmoja iwe kama kila mahali iko kwa mwingine, na kama inavyopokelewa na bila kupingwa, kama theluji inayoanguka?

Tunaweza, unajua. Tunaweza kuishi kwa njia yoyote tunayotaka. Watu huweka nadhiri za umaskini, usafi wa kiadili, na utiifu--hata za kunyamaza--kwa chaguo. Jambo ni kuvizia mwito wako kwa njia fulani ya ustadi na mvuto, ili kupata sehemu nyororo zaidi na ya kuishi na kuunganisha kwenye mpigo huo. Hii ni kujitoa, si kupigana. Kizazi "hashambuli" chochote; swala huishi jinsi anavyokusudiwa, akijitoa kila wakati kwa uhuru kamili wa hitaji moja.

Nadhani itakuwa vizuri, na sahihi, na utiifu, na safi, kufahamu hitaji lako moja na kutoliacha liende, kulegea kutoka kwalo kulegea popote inapokuchukua. Halafu hata kifo , unakokwenda hata uishi vipi, hakiwezi kutengana. Ishike, ikunyanyue juu hata macho yako yamechoka na kuanguka; nyama yenu ya musky ianguke vipande vipande, na mifupa yenu ilegee na kutawanyika, iwe huru juu ya mashamba, juu ya mashamba na misitu, kwa wepesi, bila kufikiri, kutoka urefu wowote ule, kutoka juu kama tai.

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19 PAST RESPONSES

User avatar
Slater Mar 12, 2026
I loved this story! It was so cool to feel the natural ways of the weasel.
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Catherine Mar 3, 2026
A terrible piece of work, simply just a series of typing out words. This piece of text is very uninteresting and it is as if I was talking to an immature adult complaining about life instead of doing something about it.
Reply 1 reply: Amy
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Amy Apr 3, 2026
I have read this essay multiple times and there is a lot to unpack. I think she’s asking what it would be like if humans cut out some of our modern anxiety over our purpose in life, and focused on one thing and pursued it, like a wild animal uses its instincts to survive. I especially loved the imagery in the ending – where she talks about letting what we hold onto in life carry us aloft, higher than the eagles. It helped me to know that the author did her thesis on Walden Pond as a place where heaven and earth meets. She’s definitely looking to find and highlight the “spiritual” dimensions and miracles in nature.
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Nicole Hogan Jan 24, 2026
My thought of Living like weasels .The weasels is living his life and does not worry about not nothing or fear. The reflect on how people should live they life more . The story was amazing you have to read it to understand the story
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Boden Jan 22, 2026
The prowess in literature that Ms. Dillard has when she writes "Down is out, out of your ever-loving mind and back to your careless senses" perfectly captures her theme in this story. Her diction and storytelling capabilities are phenomenal in a simple encounter between herself and the everlasting wild.
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Brady Schult Sep 14, 2025
Amazing!! So well written! I feel like this story caught be by surprise and kept me interested. From the underground den, to how they eat, and true poetry!
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morty smith Sep 4, 2025
A masterpiece in Modern literature.
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Lainey Aug 27, 2025
In this story Living Like Weasels, Ms. Dillard describes the weasel that caught her by surprise, in so many ways. From where the weasel lives in the wild in his underground den, to what it looks like. What it eats and how it's caught and killed. She loves how the weasel lives every moment in perfect freedom.
I think Dillard wants everyone to have fun and enjoy life. Don't worry about not doing everything perfect or correct. We have one life to live so enjoy it.
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Ashton Roberts Sep 16, 2024
I will not lie; this was truly amazing. I was actually assigned to read this for a college assignment. I had no idea that it was written to this extent. I genuinely love this writing here. the way she words it and the way she expresses herself is beautiful
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TriQuang Nguyen Jul 6, 2017

What does she means when she says, "... killing more bodies than he can eat warm, ..." ??

Reply 1 reply: Julie
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Julie Jun 5, 2025
Killing more prey than she can eat in a day.
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Ginny Schiros May 30, 2017

"In wildness is the the salvation of the the world." H.D Thoreau... May we all be so lucky to find the weasel within us that will hunt for our true calling.

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Karen Lee May 26, 2017

Beautiful!

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Kristin Pedemonti May 26, 2017

Loved the way this was expressed! The rawness, the visceral, the imagery. Yes! Thank you!

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Indira Iyer May 25, 2017

Fantastic piece of writing! Poetry, nature and human spirit at its best. Thank you!!

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martina May 25, 2017

GOD, this is fabulous! Thank you!

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Cynthia T May 25, 2017

Amidst all the emphasis on mindfulness and my efforts to practice it, today I deeply connect with this fierce and poetic call to "mindlessness." Perhaps they are much more similar than my limited mind first assumes. Maybe a continuum? Interesting to chew on. But all that matters, really, is that -- right now -- I hear that fierce call and I respond. Thank you, thank you, dear (yes, you are dear to me!) Annie Dillard and DG.

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Patrick Watters May 25, 2017

Ah Annie Dillard, she is one of the delightful reasons that I remain an ecologist (and a true Christian too) to this day, even more so the older I get. }:-) ❤️ anonemoose monk

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Janet Roberts May 25, 2017

Wow! Yes...I feel it. Thank you for taking me there for a moment.