At daybreak today, as I was getting ready to take the trash to the big road, the Beastie Boys were making a kill down in my woods. It's easy to follow the drama as it unfolds: the pack in full voice as they close in, and the sudden silence when it's over. There is a dichotomy of feelings: pity for the prey, but gladness that the pack will feed.
This is where I live. It's home.