Long ago and far away, when animals could talk (and a pleasure it is to start a diary that way), there were tiger stories and lemur stories and coyote stories; really good stories; and of course we keep telling those stories. But when we paved and burned and ate the places tiger and lemur and coyote lived, no one saw them anymore, or not as much, and so fewer of their stories were remembered; indeed their story became all about the sentiment of loss. “It is sad about the tigers” people say; and so they should; but this is a shade before, right at the twilight of wild things.
