The outer, or observative, one operates quasi automatically, like a man driving his car and/or a moose protecting her calves. The inner, or creative, one makes a man an artist, as he composes and lives his own symphony of life. And - the most inner drive for an animal is its expert quest for survival by natural stamina. It is operated causatively by its five senses, looking out for food and protection.
Just recently, I stepped out on my balcony in Anchor Point to enjoy the sundown. Directly below me, I noticed a young female moose, browsing through the grass sampling snacks. She neither saw nor heard me, till I uttered in a very low voice a “hello.” The moose looked up, slightly startled, but reflective in its instinctive awareness. “That human is no danger,” she said to herself.
Three events happened in succession: at first, as if scared, she spread her hind legs and rivuletted a stream of golden urine. Then she turned around, wondering about the ubiquity of her two little calves, hidden behind the trees.
Suddenly, she apprehensively snorted and snotted visibly steaming breath out of her nose and dashed into the bushes. Soon, no longer agile and scary, she returned into a tree opening to my left, followed by two rather young brown babies. Smilingly, she embraced them with quite a lot of licks and kisses. She then circled a soft spot with her hooves to prepare her bed. She laid down for rest with her two infants.
Well, I observed them a great length of time. The mother moose never ever looked up to me, while her juvenile youngsters wondered, “Who I were…” I then realized that a moose does not have a memory, because it has no intellect, only an instinct of here and now.
Kosmos Josef Recker
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