Happy Mother's Day to you from all of us at Beastly Virtues! ❤️

Cause and Effect...

Two rabbits sitting next to the entrance of their burrow while a couple of rabbits are gamboling in the background. Etching by J. Tookeyafter J. C. Ibbetson.

Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

In that moment when Betrüger’s teeth pierced her, the heat of that sharp pain flashed through Flitzen so powerfully that it brought her back to the memory of peace with Schatz. Memories were all that she had and they had begun to feel unreal. The inception of the bond that had been created and the rapport between her and Schatz were fading as she came back to consciousness. Flitzen was tattered and scarred with the trauma from the past few months. But she would awake to a new sorrow. A time of joy but mixed with mourning.

The Linden Tree

Dewdrop Marie-France Boissonneault

I walked into my school library this morning to see Christina Rosetti's Poem Hurt no Living Thing hanging on the wall...  And so, on this Earth Day, I thought I would share Jean Giono’s  L’homme qui plantait des arbres (1953). Giono’ story about Elzéard Bouffier was adapted by Canadian director Frédéric Back and released as The Man who Planted Trees in 1987 going onto win an Academy award for Best Animated Short in 1988. It is a story that is very close to my heart.

In previous posts, I have written about childhood tales that influenced my empathetic path and passion for writing narratives along the humane education stream. The Man who Planted Trees was introduced to me in a brilliant film class I took with my very best friend while in CEGEP. The story is one that speaks to me on several levels; from my ecological interests, respect for the world around me, and equally on a more personal level about the strength of character, dedication, devotion and determination that I see echoed in my family and close friends. In a world that seems more and more transient and less capable of fostering profound relationships, the story of Elzéard Bouffier is one that gives me comfort. Its deeper themes are reflected in the people that I have been blessed to call my family and honoured to call my friends…

Unspoken Truths

By Marie-France Boissonneault (Dallas Road)

In the health class I have taught for the past two years, I incorporated an assignment from one of my previous classes that explores themes of embodiment through our five senses. 

In writing through animal characters, I have found this to be an ideal way to enable a deeper understanding of the world through the experience of another’s whom we cannot truly grasp due to our own limitations. I am always amazed at the imaginative ways that my students describe the experience. It can be a difficult task given the criteria, but some, like the first time I assigned it, really take to the challenge!

This past term, I came across a book in my middle school library that illustrated the exercise beautifully when writing about colour. This book proved to be a great tool to help some of the students that struggled with the assignment. It is hard to conceptualise the world of another, whether it is a being from our own species or a species with which our experience of the world is so far removed from our own.

We all live intricate lives that have a unique unspoken understanding to each that may cross our paths but they are only truly appreciated by ourselves. The reasons we do things, the choices we make, the way we survive, how we keep strong and smile into the next day… We can look upon another and try to assume that we understand their struggles or their pain, their joys or their sorrows, or even the reality that they mirror to the outside world, but no matter who we are there is always a hidden truth.

It is fascinating to travel through the realms of other beings by researching their experiences of the world and describing it to the best of my ability. As well, it is a great writing exercise to challenge oneself to describe an understanding outside the confines of the shared, and to inwardly conceptualise the journey forbidden from using descriptors related to our senses in question…

Stardust

Like flashes of lighting on a stormy night the brief illumination revealed moments past. Memories hidden in time came rushing to the surface. The first moment they had shared a breath, the feeling of calm as they traveled side by side across the dry landscape and the deep blue of the sky in the early morning light. She nickered softly stomping her hoof upon the ground of her stall. Her head nodding in longing as though to affirm the reality of her mind’ eye…

“And the rest is rust and stardust.”
~ Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Echo

Come back to me in dreams, that I may give

Two Rabbits Asleep by Jean-Baptiste Huet, 1784

Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:

Speak low, lean low

As long ago, my love, how long ago. 

Christina Rosetti

They spent many afternoons deep within the cool damp refuge of Schatz’s warren. He had graciously welcomed her and would calm her with his peaceful nature and tenderness. Guiding her through the network of tunnels Flitzen was enchanted with Schatz’s ability to conjure a story from a single prompt. He was a watcher, a listener and had a mild manner like no other. On those sweltering summer days, the dampness of the warren was a welcome refuge. Flitzen could easily lose herself in the environment, absorbing the coolness of the soil that surrounded her, the scent of the underground roots and wetness that hung in the air. Sometimes, she and Schatz would just lie side by side for hours enjoying the stillness and silence while the world above teamed with life under the hot blazing sun. She longed to return to that space. The time in which the world seemed to melt away and there was nothing left but a sense of synchronistic peace. She closed her eyes and travelled back as Betrüger’s claws tore into her side. The searing pain of the attack dulled to a throbbing pulse like the palpitating rhythm of her heart as each beat brought her closer back those moments with Schatz.

Thanatosis

In memory of Gilles Boissonneault 1951-2015
(February 28th, 2015)

The gentle morning breeze caught the gossamer threads casting Grayson and Griffin in flight soaring above Bluegate and beyond…Lila watched the spiderlings drift along the currents of air that had taken them from the cattail by the side of the pond. Grayson and Griffin were together at first, but as they rose into the space above the water Lila saw how the air currents began to draw them apart. A spiderling’s journey was one that may begin in tandem but would very quickly transfer course with the slightest change in the air current. In that moment, Lila shifted her attention, for these times of thanatosis were also when she could retreat into quiet reflection. As an observer of the lives of the beings around the pond she was fascinated by the unknown expeditions that would whisk beings away to unknown destinations and fates… Such was the case with Grayson, as Lila watched him soar higher into the sky, until he had completely disappeared from her view. Griffin had landed close by and was taking calculated steps to discover his new surroundings. But now, Grayson was simply a memory, one that Lila could revisit in her times of reflection about that first moment of Grayson’s maiden flight when his gossamer silk carried him away from Bluegate.

Betrüger

Several months had passed since her first meeting with Schatz, yet they remained closely linked as he was deep within her heart. Their parting was one of sweet sorrow as she watched him slowly disappear in the haze of a warm summer sunset. He hopped along slowly and turned one last time to meet her gaze before he vanished into the thicket. Although they were no longer side by side in body they would remain inner life companions. This bond was one that seemed to traverse distance and was felt deep with Flitzen. 

As time went on, Flitzen paired with another buck when the colder month began to creep in. It had been a chance meeting, but Betrüger had watched her from the distance for a few months. He had seen Flitzen play in the fields nearby but stayed in the background until he found the perfect moment to enter her world. Betrüger was a playful and passionate hare with a flair for the dramatic. But, like a true Belgian Hare, he was highly excitable and had a nervous energy that kept him in constant motion. Much like Schatz, Betrüger had the ability to create a world in which Flitzen could lose herself. She and Betrüger had played for months into the cold nights before the winter crept in. Although Flitzen was initially hoodwinked by Betrüger’s spell, it would eventually dissolve, and the bond they had would scatter like dandelion spores in the breeze. She was weary after spending hours trying to pacify the unrest that had arisen from the impromptu attack of another buck. Her unexpected freedom from Betrüger’s ensnarement came sooner than Flitzen had anticipated and she had been initially caught off guard.  Flitzen’s ear was in ribbons from the encounter with the other buck and as she sat licking her bloodied wounds she felt the sudden intense sting of Betrüger’s teeth as they pierced through her…

Food for thought...

Early in September I wrote a top 5 list sharing a selection of stories published for young readers that nurture an ethic of care for the living world around us. I also shared my fascination about the influences that guide us to developing our ethical beliefs and moral frameworks with regards to nonhuman nature on my own blog. At work I am surrounded by such stories and others that leave me baffled in the illustrations or concepts that they convey to young readers. In my own creative nonfiction writings, I have tried to steer away from the heavy anthropomorphism that is present in many of the narratives for young readers. That said, I do employ some anthropomorphic representations in relation to communication and/or relationships to drive my stories. This is something that I have, like many other children, done from a young age. However, with Alphabeasts and Beautiful Creatures I try my best to keep as close to conveying the experiences of the world of the species I write about as close to their respective realities as I can within my human capacity. 

This week, I was struck by two titles I came across in my library. The concept and the illustration are what surprised me in these two titles, and, as a result, the ideas or concepts that they perpetuate. I teach about the development of our anthrozoological beliefs through media and so I am fascinated to see how some of these ideas are shared through the stories on the shelves of libraries. The first title caught my eye as it advertised itself as “An Alphabeast of a book!” which is the title of my own series. The book written by Michaël Escoffier and illustrated by Kris Di Giacomo is entitle Take away the A. I thought it had a brilliant concept of how it represented the alphabet to a young reader until I got to the letter O. The book is filled with all sorts of anthropomorphised images of various species but for the letter O it describes how “Without the letter O. Four wear Fur” with the accompanied image of four animals in fur lined coats. It is an interesting image and message on several levels. I came across a review of the book while researching it online that was at the opposite spectrum of what I gleaned from the image and message of the letter O myself. The review by Maria Popova  describes the image of the fur-clad duck, zebra, antelope and wolf tea party as a visual commentary of "the cruel price of fur garments." However, in my view, I was initially curious at the selection of beings. Three the four animals are prey animals while there is one lone predator species on the far right. Another aspect that struck me was that I saw this as the tacit or somewhat overt display of fur in fashion and the subtle implications that with the image of other species wearing the pelts of another being this then sends a message that condones this practice for humans. Writing about this today reminded me of the piece that my dear friend, who has been a constant support throughout my writing journey, wrote for my blog last March.

Now the second image I came across this week was similar. Yet I confess, I did not actually read the story as I was only was taken with the image by David Catrow in the book Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road? I am curious about how we develop our nutritional habits and the influences that guide our dietary decisions. This is something that I explore from different angles in my own class when looking at mass media and most overtly on the topic of suicide food. With this image that I came across, a chicken sits at the counter of a local diner and yearningly gazes at the giant burger which is about the same size of the chicken itself. It looks very much like a beef burger and has a little flag in it that reads “well”, perhaps to underline that the chicken ordered the burger to be well done. Now this is a very interesting representation since despite the obvious anthropomorphised scenario, the chicken is depicted as a carnivore. As humans living in cities we are quite detached from the origins of our food and this distancing from the source of our food is even more apparent in such illustrations in that we afford qualities and characteristics of our own species to another whilst completely obliterating the reality of  the other… 

A symphony of trumpets...

It was but a dream, a fleeting twinkle in time. She would revisit that moment of their rupture for years to come. They had come together with such an energy that had overwhelmed them both. With their initial parting, their rupture had been so sudden, painful. She had remained paralysed by sorrow and the uncertainty that she would ever see him again. But unlike Kivuli, Kingsley would return over the years. 

Kingsley was both gentle in his gaze but confident in his manner. His infrasonic chirps would send a wave of peace through Myani. The interchange between them was always fluid and when reunited they would quickly mirror the other in the ease of their connection. 

It was a quiet day when Myani sensed the familiar sub-sonic rumblings in the distance. She knew then that the bliss within her was too much to contain. She flapped her ears and called out in a symphony of trumpets! All the while, certain deep down, that it was him. She quickened her pace toward the diection of the muted roars. As they drew nearer she continued to meet his roars and rumbles with her own. It was around this time that she and Kingsley had first crossed paths. It would not be long before she heard the familiar chirps! She knew the interplay of their emotional contagion would quickly follow suit...

I Believe...

“His name is Zünden” said Miss Mariska.

Zünden was out in the paddock and had only come to the stable in the past few days. As a newcomer he was definitely a curiousity among the other horses.

“A flat racer! I heard he was the chalk before the incident…” Ebony hollered from the stall at the far end.

“He had a stumble and fall. It could have been a blanket finish” said Miss Mariska.

“Yea, but he bolted and blew the turn!” sneered Ebony.

Since that race Zünden had been spooked and the next couple of races he was off the board. His owner had brought him to the stable for help. He’d been on the track since he was a sophomore, a push button. But now, if you could get him to break from the starting gate, he was jumping shadows. He’d turned into a real savage too. Ebony had been in the paddock with him the first few days and was badly bit. But Amore was still intrigued by Zünden.

They seemed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum in their manners but she sensed that there may be more to the story than Ebony knew anything about. She watched Zünden from the opening of the barn. He’d occasional flit by kicking and rearing if there was anyone in his path. They’d left him alone in the paddock since he’d attacked Ebony.

Amore’s interest didn’t wane due to obstacles. She was a watcher, and ever so patient. In fact, she was often drawn to take the path of most resistance. She had an inimitable strength of character. Her quiet resilience is what kept her alive in those most challenging times and she knew that one day she would be with her true Amado. Until then, she continued to remain hopeful and would keep him close in that place where one could linger between wakefulness and slumber. Wait for him where her dreams were vivid and her love real…

Pushbutton: A jockey reference to a horse that runs like a sports car. Off in a flash!  

Jumped a shadow: Horses that jumps imaginary objects on the racetrack.

Blanket Finish: A term to refer to a close finish with a competitor.

Blew the turn: Reference to improperly cornering a turn resulting in a disastrous finish.

Chalk: The betting favorite.

The Hatchery of Ideas

In one of my roles, I work at an elementary school and so my days are filled with questions, laughter and imaginative minds. I have the pleasure of starting my mornings surrounded by kids who adore sharing their ideas, thoughts and explanations for why things occur. I always love when these explanations are in reference to animal behaviour and/or ecological processes. There are two examples that have stayed with me that reveal the loveliness of how children associate their experiences in how they relate them to themselves. The first occurred on a chilly morning a few months back as the sun slowly started to heat the playground creating the dewdrops to evaporate into the air from every surface. I heard a little boy call out “the tree is breathing!” and a group started to circle around the base of the large trunk to watch as the sun warmed its bark turning the morning droplets into little misty clouds similar to when one exhales… In the past weeks, I have had the company of a little girl who tells me about the chickens she has at home. There are over 40, but she has told me that she does know a few of them quite well, one in particular by the name of Henrietta. As it were, Henrietta had fled their place a while back. I listened to her story of how Henrietta had disappeared and return one day with a crowd of little chicks following closely behind her. I loved the explanation that this little girl gave me which was that Henrietta had left because she wanted to have a family. As they collect the eggs Henrietta would not have been able to have her chicks had she stayed. And so, as she stated this was the only way that Henrietta could be the mother she had dreamed of being… I am always fascinated by the logic that kids come up with to explain behaviour, understanding or function. They are often inspired by the understanding they have of themselves but more importantly they express a genuine empathy toward the beings that they encounter.

A well of clarity...

It had been a few months now since Miss Mariska had been moved the stall adjacent to Amore. She was a playful companion that had slowly brought out Amore’s drive for adventure. Together they had been watchful of the routines in the stable and paid close attention to the comings and goings of the humans that moved about the barn. Some would stop to look in on them from time to time and Amore could remember the ones that would take a moment to be gentle with her. A few other horses had come and gone in that time but Amore and Miss Mariska were a constant. 

The two would connect in the paddock since Miss Mariska had been moved to her own stall but their closest interactions were in the stillness of the evenings. The ranch was quiet and the barn closed up for the night. These calm evening tête-à-têtes are what Amore looked forward to during the drudgery of the routines of the day. She loved to listen, and Miss Mariska had such lovely and imaginative thoughts about the world she would construct beyond the barn. Amore had confided in her on several occasions about the lives she lived before the barn, her dreams, and the desires she had to once again run in the freedom of the sunlight accompanied by her Amado. She had such a respect and admiration for Miss Mariska who had a true sense of integrity. Miss Mariska also seemed to have a deep understanding of Amore’s inner self; she was like her well of clarity...