42 pages • 1 hour read
Annie DillardA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
It is summer, and the narrator waits for the heat and oppressiveness of the season to take hold. It has been raining for a week. All at once, the air becomes oppressively hot, and she knows that summer has truly arrived. The creek that she visited all winter and spring has changed. The rain has sloshed mud over the log she sits on. She sees a starving dog, a broken whiskey bottle, and a snake. In the distance she hears the backfiring of a garbage truck as the workers attempt to impress two high school girls.
She recalls a flood the previous year caused by Hurricane Agnes. Everything looked different as the water rose and covered the roads. She and her neighbors gathered to blockade the bridge so that cars would not try to pass. She became disoriented as she stood on the bridge and looked at the water. Debris floated downstream, and she was astounded to see waves. The spot where she gathered praying mantis eggs was replaced by a waterfall. The neighborhood children were in their element, delighting in the altered landscape. They managed to corral a snapping turtle into a washtub and waved a broomstick in front of its mouth, hoping to convince the turtle to snap the stick in two. They spotted a rattlesnake and rushed to it in the hopes of being bitten.
A friend of the narrator’s who lived along the James River did not experience the storm but noticed debris from it floating downstream. The water rose 32 feet. The flooding killed people and caused millions of dollars’ worth of damage.
Fertility can be gross and often cruel. The narrator dreams that she is watching two luna moths mate. The male dominates the female in the act of reproduction. In the dream, the narrator watches, unable to look away. The female luna moth produces eggs that then hatch into thousands of fish, squirming in the water. She watches the fish and feels complicit. She wakes and reprimands herself, feeling responsible for not stopping the moths and the torturous lives of the fish. Animals are riddled with the grotesque. The narrator feels that she has been offering a lopsided view of nature, leaning too heavily on its beauty. Nature is as much about death as it is about life, and fertility is ugly and complicated.
While plants do not necessarily deal in brutality, humans and animals are rife with it. Barnacles, for example, hatch from a million larvae. God seems indifferent to the lives of the barnacles, and the narrator wonders if God feels the same way about people. Parasitic wasps, praying mantises, and fish all reproduce in vast numbers only for most of their offspring to die. The urge to reproduce is itself a gnawing and insatiable hunger, and the brutality continues throughout life. Flatworms are cannibals, and gall gnats hatch live larvae within their bodies. She describes in detail the life of a horsehair worm, an existence that is riddled with perils. The worm is entirely dependent upon its hosts and a series of chances that could all go awry.
As she meditates upon the brutality of nature, she realizes that death is as much a part of existence as life. Evolution only proceeds through death. She presents two theories. The first is that the world is a monster, dealing in cruelty. The second is that human emotions are an anomaly. They impede a holistic understanding of the nature of existence and God.
In the summer, the narrator visits the creek to stalk muskrats and other creatures. She compares this experience to the hunting practices of Inuit peoples. In one example, the narrator describes how Inuit people at St. Lawrence Island thread live birds with heavy needles and attach the flying animals to their boat. The flapping attracts the attention of other birds, which are consequently threaded as well. The narrator claims there are two ways to stalk—by standing still and by walking. Often, the act of trying to see something obscures the ability to witness it. For example, when she tries to watch three bluegills in the water, she finds it difficult to spot them, but when she focuses on something else, they come into view.
Even while stalking, the narrator finds it difficult to observe what she is trying to capture. A green heron feeds on fish in the water, but only when the narrator’s head is slightly turned. Only insects seem oblivious to her presence, joyfully going about their business. She watches a dragonfly dip its abdomen in the creek, dropping eggs. She witnesses a water strider disorient and consume a waterlogged fly. It took the narrator years of fine-tuning her stalking practices to carefully observe muskrats. These creatures are notoriously skittish—rightfully so, as they are highly preyed upon by predators. Their lives are extremely dangerous. Even their mothers may put them in peril by dropping them and forgetting about them.
The narrator recalls watching muskrats from a nearby bridge. She learned that she must stay very still. If she spotted a muskrat on one side of the bridge, she had approximately five seconds to reposition herself on the other side of the bridge to observe it emerging. Whatever position she was in when the muskrat emerged must be held. Once, while watching the water for signs of the creature, she realized that a muskrat had emerged onto the bridge beside her. She watched it, unmoving, for 40 minutes. During this time, the narrator lost her self-consciousness and was wholly engrossed in the actions and movements of the animal.
In September, the narrator packs a bag and treks to a nearby property to stay the night in an old, abandoned cabin. She walks through a meadow where grasshoppers explode from the grass at each step. Locusts—known as an insect of plague and famine—are merely grasshoppers that have experienced extreme droughts. They obscure all light as they fly through the sky and destroy crops. The narrator delights at how her steps send the grasshoppers flying, calling herself the “King of the Meadow” (212).
The Lucas property feels like a secret sanctuary. Aside from the meadow, it is filled with cliffs, valleys, terraces, and caves. The narrator feels once again like an infant, experiencing everything with wonder. While peering through the window of the one-room cottage, she spots a female goldfinch land on a thistle and begin extracting its contents, eating the seeds and littering the ground with thistledown. In the Bible, thistle is part of the curse of the Garden of Eden. God tells Adam that the ground will be covered in thorns and thistles. Yet the goldfinch happily eats the contents of the thistle’s pod, munching on its seeds. Once more, the narrator feels that she has experienced something spiritual.
At night, she is surrounded by noise. Cicadas and frogs fill the air with their shrill calls. Somewhere a bobwhite calls its own name. The night is another mystery, a lesson in shadow. The narrator wonders why God did not let the animals name man. She compares herself to thistle, the thorny weed of the earth.
In mid-September, the narrator visits the quarry and sees a copperhead. She stomps on the ground a few times and checks to see that she has her snake-bite kit. Then she sits down and observes the serpent, which does not move. She recalls talking to a woman who tells her about her brother, who was bitten by a snake when he was four. His mother did not realize what had happened until the boy could no longer see and his leg was as big around as his body. As the narrator watches the snake, the sun begins to fall. A mosquito keeps trying to bite the narrator, and she swats it away. The mosquito lands on the snake, just below its head. It sucks the snake’s blood for several minutes. The snake never moves.
Parasitic creatures make up approximately 10% of all animals on Earth. The narrator details many of these species, including the leech. She remembers coming across a small boy by the creek one day who was carrying a large snapping turtle at arm’s length. He showed her leeches that were stuck to the turtle and asked if it would be okay. She assured him that it would be fine. Fleas, lice, flies, and mosquitoes all exemplify the parasitic lifestyle of insects. One scientist found five orders of parasitic wasps, all feeding on one another.
One night during the summer, while watching muskrats by Tinker Creek, the narrator noticed a small green insect that had flown directly into a spider’s web. The insect shook violently and managed to escape. Since then, the narrator has kept a list of insects and animals that have survived such encounters. Her list includes grasshoppers and killdeer, as well as a tailless squirrel and a muskrat. All living animals, including humans, are survivors. The narrator examines her own life and considers the ways in which she has survived.
Dillard’s work shifts in tone at the start of Chapter 9. The flooding of the James River has strong connections to the biblical flood—the killing of most life on Earth to cleanse it. This section of the book thus embraces the darker part of the duality of God as represented in the Cruelty and Beauty in Nature. The images of the creek at the opening of Chapter 9 introduce this idea. The narrator sees a starving dog and a broken whiskey bottle. She hears the backfires of a garbage truck. The pristine and graceful beauty of Tinker Creek has been altered by the onset of summer and rain. A later study of parasitic insects reveals that no creatures—including humans—can escape the cruelty and ferocity of life. The narrator’s dream further demonstrates nature’s brutality; she is disgusted by the fish that are produced by the copulation of the luna moths.
Yet the narrator’s reactions to what she witnesses during the flood illustrate that cruelty is an element of divinity. The same intense wonder that accompanied her observations of nature’s beauty recurs as she watches the flood change everything that was once familiar to her. The altered landscape allows her to see the world with fresh eyes, to experience a childlike sense of awe at the brutality of nature. The activities of the children in Chapter 9 underscore the link between wonder and violence: They poke and prod at a snapping turtle and chase down a rattlesnake, exhilarated by the destruction.
Nevertheless, there is also something repugnant about nature’s violence, and the narrator struggles to understand why God would have created the world in this way. From a human perspective, the purpose of such brutality is unfathomable, so the narrator’s consideration of suffering overlaps with her shift toward the via negativa—the idea that it is impossible to truly know God. A series of images and symbols expands on this idea of unknowability. The juxtaposition of the concept of “stalking” with the concept of “seeing” draws a distinction between via negativa and via positiva. The former emphasizes a search for the shadows; both God and animals want to remain hidden, so anyone seeking them must hunt for them, though motionlessly and stealthily. Via positiva, on the other hand, suggests that God wants to be found, ready and waiting for anyone who is willing to sit in the present moment and observe. Stalking serves as another side of The Power of Observation, one more way to commune with the knowability, as well as the mystery, of God.
Similarly, in Chapter 11, the narrator claims that she is beginning to understand the association between fish and the figure of Christ. For her, both fish and God are elusive, mysterious, via negativa. She is repulsed by those in her dream. Yet at other times in the book, the narrator describes fish in vivid and poetic detail, enamored of their silver flashes and graceful movements. The simultaneous grossness and beauty of their bodies emphasizes both ways of approaching an understanding of God, as well as both sides of God’s nature.
God may therefore not be wholly unknowable in his apparent cruelty. As the narrator tries to consider nature from a godlike vantage point, she arrives at some conclusions. Earlier, when the narrator felt totally in the moment, she realized that even dead animals contribute to the tapestry of the present. The idea becomes more explicit in this section, with death similarly necessary for the continuance of evolution. Cruelty and brutality are important and necessary parts of the natural world, and because nature reflects the divine, that means that they are also attributes of God.
The title of Chapter 13 alludes to this intertwining of life and death. The image of an altar with four corners marked by horns appears several times in the Bible. In one passage, the Israelites erected such altars to other gods, prompting God to declare that the horns of those altars would be severed and fall away with God’s judgment. However, the altars also served as places of sacrifice to God, their horns daubed with the blood of the slaughtered animals. Those who sought refuge could seize one of these horns to escape judgment. The horns thus symbolize the bestowal of life via death, which the narrator suggests is the nature of creation itself.
By Annie Dillard
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