I serendipitously watched The Penguin Lessons recently. The movie is based on a true story by Tom Mitchell (The Penguin Lessons: What I Learned From A Remarkable Bird). The movie is particularly relevant in today’s America. Metaphor plays a central role is transforming a quirky, real-life story, rescuing a penguin from an oil spill in Uruguay and bringing it to live at a boys’ boarding school in Argentina, into a deeper reflection on human connection, moral responsibility, and the redemptive power of empathy. There is a lesson here for us today. Watch the movie. See what you think.
I have two apple trees in front of my house. Some years they produces boxes full of apples. Other years, like this year, the apples are sparse.
I am in a constant battle with nature. Will there be enough rain and sunshine for a healthy crop of apples to grow? Will insects or birds get them first? The trees attract a variety of creatures in search of a tasty snack. Deer love the apples. They can be helpful by cleaning up the leaves that blow off the trees in the fall, but sometimes the leaves are not enough and they go after the apples.
Sometimes the neighbor’s cattle get loose and visit my meadow. They generally go after the grass and the free falls which is not a bother but they can raise a bit of havoc based on their bulk, and they tend to leave rather unattractive cow pies that are not particularly fun to deal with.
Wild turkeys seem to know just when the apples are getting ripe. They sometimes fly up into the trees to eat the apples, and they are heavy enough to break small limbs.
The brown bears are the most destructive. They shake the trees and often break even large limbs causing lasting damage to the trees. Happily for me our trees have so far survived years of attacks.
I have pondered this dilemma of the animals and my apple trees for quite a long time. I realize that I’ve invaded their space. They were here first. Nature is fragile. The animals need to eat. They managed to get by before I arrived on wild berries and natural vegetation, but I have undoubtedly reduced their natural habitat to some extent by my very presence. I suppose the fact that I planted these apple trees is some compensation for the interruption I’ve caused in their lives. I do wish I could impress upon them to be a bit more careful, but there is no way I can think of to do that.
We’ve reached a kind of compromise. I pick enough apples for my personal needs and leave the rest for them. They are anxious critters and sometimes go after the apples before they are ripe so I need to pick the ones I want sooner than I’d like. Yesterday, after an early bear attack, I decided to pick enough to make a pie. In a good year I might get enough for a few pies, some applesauce, some juice and even a few to eat right off the tree. It’s always a bit of a negotiation. I have no way of knowing how they feel about it, but it seems, for now, that we’ve reached some form of mutual respect.
Tom Mitchell’s penguin, Juan Salvador, is more than just a bird. He is a metaphor for all that is vulnerable, displaced, and yet full of quiet dignity in the world. He is a humanizing force that perhaps symbolizes the small, unexpected forces of healing that enter our lives and change us quietly, persistently, irrevocably. We ultimately have two choices when confronted with conflict and disagreement. We can lash out in anger and make things worse, or we can try to work out some kind of truce and agree to get along in peace. We have to choose. We can’t pass the buck.
