The return of Boonyi – the giant eagle

January 11, 2017

A long time back ago. I raised Boonyi when her mummy didn’t return back to the nest. She was just a baby eagle then, could even fit into my breast pocket. Fashioned a head of a mommy eagle with old socks and plastic bottle caps – fed her so well that when she grew up, Boonyi became big and strong so much so she preferred to walk around and impersonate my dogs.

Eventually Boonyi grew so big I had to release her back into the wild – but eagles are crafty, they’re all born with a GPS and can always find their way back home. On one occasion when she was badly shot up and peppered with pellets – she crash landed in my plantation house and I patched her up.

Shortly after that she took right off again.

That was about three years ago – haven’t seen her since then. Till this morning when the dogs were barking frantically. When I rush out to check, it was Boonyi – she was strutting around like she always does in the yard again.

Don’t get me wrong. I am glad to see my old friend Boonyi again….elated even. But my joy is tinged with a keen sense of trepidation – as I know the nature of eagles well.

As they don’t ever return home unless something has spooked the shit out of them – and trust me eagles are up there at the top of the food chain…they don’t get frightened easily…so whatever it is…it’s probably has loads of razor sharp teeth and claws and it’s probably headed this way.

The more I looked into Boonyi’s frightened liquid brown eyes – the more they seem to express….farmer, something evil comes this way….I am very afraid.

It’s going to be another hard year at farming I reckon….possibly even harder than last year.


‘Its very hard to get people excited about protecting the environment. Especially when they all seem to think it’s some dystopian future that has quite landed on planet earth yet…like maybe an alien invasion that’s yet to happen. But I don’t ever see the destruction of the planet as futurescape or for that matter anything that is predicated on tomorrow.

It’s happening right before my eyes and I see it everyday. No correction. I HAVE to see it everyday – you see I am like one those WW1 foot soldiers knee deep in mud stuck in a trench with shells exploding all around me. That’s how a farmer sees himself whenever weather boffins quibble endlessly about whether we have finally reached the tipping point.

It’s very hard to bear out patiently all these talk not without the help of 40% proof alcohol…single malts work well for me – we’re all like battle scared soldiers…people who always seem marooned in their own skull even when they find themselves in the bosom of one of those sappy saccharine laced save the planet meets – where everyone always seems so perfidious faced eager with their beaming smiles and sparkling white teeth – always ready, set to go – to demonstrate their willingness to assume the multitude of worldly guilts that may account for the real and imagined threats to our environment.

Usually by the time I had my third shot of whisky from a Starbucks non degradable polycarbonate cup that can last 200 million without ever decomposing give or take a couple of million years….usually that’s when I really begin to enjoy those meets.

If I didn’t know better perhaps I could take some measure of comfort somewhere in the velvety folds of the rah rah brigades deceptively reassuring message that they’re really interested to save people and planet.

I pour myself another drink…this time I don’t even bother hiding the bottle any longer.

Truth is like folk who have never experienced the hardship of actual combat – I know the only reason why they’re all too willing to assume guilt is simply because – it’s a way…even if it’s only a cockememe’s nonetheless a way…a way for them to continue believing in that great lie – that it all depends on us! So we can also save ourselves from impending doom by simply changing our lifestyles by opting for hemp bags, trying to eek out a full year out from our yarn slippers made with tender loving care by vietnamese peasants who still work under the wan of lard powered lamps, munch on organic lettuce, using only one sheet of tissue paper and no more to wipe our ass.

You know the more I attend these meets…the more I am convinced I may actually be here for reasons other than to save the planet…if only knew what? I take another swig from the bottle.

I guess it’s their way to believe or maybe be part of a belief system that’s somehow larger than everyone here – so big that it might swallow us whole to make us believe that it could all make a difference.

This I term blob mentality – where everyone is a small blob and when enough blobs get together it just supplants every single individual thought and poof! It’s just the blob!

Truth is we all co-create our own reality like the fabled fan who supports his team alongside other fans watching some big screen TV, shouting and jumping from time to time whenever good seems to trump over evil – and when it goes the other way, we all sigh in the solidarity of the resignation, as if by being part of this mass delusion – we can somehow influence the game’s final outcome.

Not realizing even so much as once – it’s conceivable, that’s all we can ever do – hope that things will get better. It seems even when mankind is reduced to the role of a passive observer he’s never content to simply take his sit and watch what our fate will be. To avoid the gnawing feeling…suspicion…that all this could be for nought. In a desperate attempt to escape the tragedy of his own self imposed hypocrisy – he cheers harder this time and even shouts out at the top of voice….tomorrow will be better than today.

Now you all know why I don’t go to these meets any longer and much prefer to keep to myself. Truth is – they kicked me out…as when it was time for me to speak. I was completely plastered.

The world is certainly ending….It’s at it’s last turn…the proverbial coda and I am glad to still belong to it…for as long as it last.’

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