Bird Tables, Butterflies and Becoming God.

Today’s notable happenings were centred on the bird table. There was a Red Admiral butterfly on it, basking in the sunshine. I mentioned recently that I’ve seen no Red Admirals in the garden this year, and I feared that last year’s wet summer might have finished off the local population. Well, today there was one, and I suppose any revival has to start with one.

There was also a horse fly in the water bowl – not swimming, I assume, but drowning. I’m not the biggest fan of horse flies, but neither am I the sort to leave any creature slowly drowning. I put my finger underneath it, lifted it out, and placed it on a rock, where it, too, basked in the sunshine. Given the incident with the spider last night, not to mention the frequent assistance given to earthworms crossing hot, dry roads, it seems my focus in life at the moment is to rescue creatures which most people would think nothing of treading on. But then I had a thought:

In a few million years time, when horse files have evolved to the level of conscience and high consciousness, and go around abusing and killing each other gratuitously, maybe a genetic memory stemming from one little horse fly will trigger a new phenomenon. Maybe they will start believing that there is a benevolent, omnipotent, omniscient God who rescues them from the jaws of adversity. And let’s suppose my own consciousness is reincarnated in such a creature and I start worshipping the memory of my own action. Maybe I will even murder my neighbour for not believing in it. That’s an odd thought, isn’t it?