What were those two birds doing?

 This morning, I watched a great egret lumber over the lake and then begin his slow glide down to the shoreline. At the last second, his wings bowed and his descent became ascent. He was rising, just slightly as he let the air out of his sails and thrust his long legs forward, grabbing a hold of the muck. It was elegant and it was mesmerizing. I had to watch.

I would like to understand these birds, but I do not.

One morning I looked up to see a red-tail hawk chasing a great egret across the lake. The big bird, slow as a tractor being chased by a racecar, gave one great squawk. The hawk, flying as slowly as it could, was 5 feet behind when the chase started and 5 feet behind as the two disappeared down the lake. The hawk never closed the gap.

What then did I witness? Into what great pattern can I put this fact and have it make sense? What were those two doing? I have no idea.

I take William Harvey’s maxim as the First Law of the Cosmos: “All we know is still infinitely less than all that remains unknown.”

The writer Thomas Pynchon had a similar idea: “Life’s single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay sane.”

We have a deep need to understand. But in most cases, we simply don’t.

I have a deep need to understand what I see along the creek. But in most cases, I simply don't.