Grill

In a spur of the moment, change of plans yesterday afternoon, I had my parents over for BBQ chicken, corn on the cob, steamed green beans and salad. When I opened my grill, however, there was a nest of pink insulation in one corner and a field mouse looking straight at me. I thought, "How peculiar."

I tapped the grill to stir the mouse and she ran to the cup that catches the grease. She kept popping her head up into the grill questioning my next move. I removed the grill and inspected for tiny mouse feces. There was none, so I speculated my grill-guest was in the early stages of building her nest. I coached her to run onto the tank and she sprinted for the grass taking her sensitive, long whiskers with her. I removed the insulation and proceeded to fire the grill up. Thank the Great Whatever that I did not flame a mouse.

I started thinking about playing God and how, in the natural world, she was most likely preparing for a nest of pink infants and I egotistically destroyed her plans. If I had barbecued for my parents a day later, I most likely would have discovered a larger mess. Because I live in a healthy ecosystem, I recognize the importance of her maternal instincts because she is a complete grocery store for the multiple grass snakes that live on my property. In away, I destroyed the Walmart-like food web of my property.

As quirky as it sounds, I feel my evening dinner was a part of a larger picture. My female Fievel provided me insight on how such territory works. I'm in her way of doing what nature expects of her and my choice to have a Dinosaur BBQ sauced piece of poultry for dinner is, indeed, a ritual of dining that resides in a greater plan for the universe. Emancipating the Minnie Mouse was a way of keeping her alive to feed my snakes. And my chicken was good -- real good!