The Etiquette of Freedom. Jim Harrison

       The lessons we learn from the wild become the etiquette of freedom.

      Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild, “The Etiquette of Freedom”

      GS: I don’t know if this is true or not—that a hen’s nest egg nearing the age at which a chick can peck its way out—that if a hawk’s shadow moves over the egg, the little chick inside will tremble.

      JH: Ah, the intelligence is there.

      GS: It’s the sort of intelligence that human beings aren’t always willing to acknowledge.

      I had always sort of stupidly, ideologically excluded domestic animals from my curiosity, thinking, Oh, that’s too bad, they’ve been taken over by human beings, they’ve been colonized.

      JH: But the colonization was very incomplete.

      GS: And an animal is an animal. It’s another kind of organism, and it’s been fascinating to be with her [Emi] and really be forced to live in a world of nonverbal communication, and then to get better at it—both of us.

      JH: I’ve been around Mexican ravens for seventeen years, and I finally passed muster with them last spring. For a long time they’d hide in the bushes and, you know, ambush my dog—but last spring, they started taking the walk with me. I was now accepted by this clan of ravens. Look how long it took to get there.

      GS: So you know what we’re talking about again is that human/ nonhuman interaction. I have a falconer friend who catches and releases different kinds of raptors. He released a young male goshawk about three years ago, and after a little bit of training the hawk settled into the territory, which is a pine forest. And every morning, when he goes for a walk, the goshawk comes out and flies around above him.

      JH: Yeah, paying a leisurely visit. You know, any creature that has an easy time making a living and getting their food, like porpoises or otters—they really spend a great deal of time just screwing around. I remember once after a snowstorm, I went out and tracked the haphazard paths of animals, which were going this way and that for no observable reason.

      GS: So fooling around has great survival value, really. Evolution’s fueled by fooling around. So don’t call all of it intelligent design—some of it’s goofy design.

      JH: Measured chaos, goofy design—marvelous. Is that why our perceptions are so adventurous? In the springtime where I live, on the U.S.-Mexico border, I might see thirty-four varieties of birds all at once. So how do I look to each of those species of birds?

      GS: Okay—

      JH: And then you can sense the craziness of the genome, or that each cell of that willow tree has nineteen thousand determinates. In each cell of what that willow tree is, everything becomes vivid, you know? The birds, my brain, the birds looking at me, me looking at the birds. Nature becomes totally holographic that way.

      GS: Now you can write haiku.

      JH: It just enlarges the conception of life. If you know that a teaspoon of soil has a billion bacteria in it, for example—

      GS: So how do we put that into a poem?