We keep, breed, kill and eat a variety of animals for our own selfish
purposes, and yet some persons still have the audacity to say that we
are "chosen people," "God's children," "divine beings." Bah!
You know what painful inconvenience there is in losing an arm or a leg.
Well, the winged and footed beings that must bear this life suffer a
great deal more than we do when one of their limbs becomes dismembered.
Man has to a degree remedied or replaced his crippled limbs, but I do
not think any other of the higher animals have advanced so far, and as
a result these creatures must endure their pain and distressing
annoyance to the end.
Recently I watched a common house fly caught upon "fly paper," and
studied intently every visible movement of it. Immediately upon
alighting upon the sticky substance, its first thought, almost
instantaneously, was to make an effort to free itself. At once I thought
of the fly's instinct of "self-preservation," and contrasted it with the
human's.
The fly must have had intelligence, since it knew that its life was in
danger. And, since Nature does not deal in "fly paper," the fly's
reasoning power told it of its peril. With unabated determination it
vibrated its wings with lightning-like rapidity, and worked its legs
unceasingly, _breaking them in the attempt_, in its efforts to pull
itself away to freedom!
As I watched this fly in its labor, this thought came to me: Is the fly
unlike the human being in its desire to live? Is it afraid of death and
of the mystery of dissolution? Has it, too, all the agony of fear of
passing to the "Great Beyond"? Has it, too, an imaginary God in the form
of a Big Fly? And is it also afraid of that God's supposed wrath?
If the fly's desire to live is so great, what interest does it have in
life?
Does it love? Does it derive happiness when it is able to labor to make
happy its fly Juliet?
Does it want to live because it is ambitious and is trying to excel
other flies?
Does it really think to better its species and solve the problem of its
kind?
Is there a fly family to mourn its death?
While watching that fly and asking myself these questions, I was
convinced of the following _truths_:
That the force that we call life is the same that animates the fly. That
it, too, has control of its muscles and nerves in the same proportion
as we have control of ours. That it, too, possesses the five senses and
adds to its tiny brain more intelligence through its experiences. Within
the movements and actions of that fly was wrapped up the secret of
"Whence did I come, and whither am I going?"
As I released my attention from that fly, I muttered to myself: "The
more I look at insects, the more I think I am one."
For what purpose do _we_ arise in the morning, fill our stomachs with
food, till the fields, and perform labor in exchange for nourishment, in
the evening fall into a sleep from exertion, arise the next day, and
perform the same routine, day in and day out, week in and week out, year
in and year out, and at the age and in the heyday of physical
development seek an outlet in the opposite sex for the strongest impulse
that Nature has implanted in us?
This impulse forces us to commit rape and murder, robbery and assault,
and to violate every principle of honor that man has tried to establish
for the betterment and advancement of the race.
With the dissipation of this mighty sex force, we subside and decline
into weakness and decay, only to pass into death and oblivion.
What a fearful, wasted effort is this life!