Can I move like the migratory birds, without luggage without GPS?  All I want to have is the coat on my skin and the food in my stomach.  December 27, 2005 

MicroCosmos

A dung beetle is serious.  Rolling rolling, prah, my dung ball jams into a thorn.  Who dropped their thorn and expected me to see behind a ball four times my size?  So I push and push, try different angles, only to make the unwanted cohesion stronger.  Then by a miracle, I pushed it at just the right degree with just the right force and off I go rolling my ball to the ends of the forest floor that is my home.  December 27, 2005 

My conservationist friends sometime grumble about charismatic species shading equally biologically important species such as ants and beetles, by drawing away already paltry funding.   But even they agree that the chimpanzee is just so charismatic.  To the conservationist, every species needs to be protected.  But to pedestrian A, beetles and ants will take a while to rub off but chimpanzees are love at first sight.  I would like to apply to become a chimp so I can swing in the forest all day and come evening, make my bed on top of trees, and from my nest, watch the sun go down the trees.  I began a Chinese translation here.  December 12, 2005

March of the Penguins

How does the emperor penguin pull through the winter, without food and with a baby?  The Antarctic is cold, but at least the fight is fair.   I was happiest during the film when I remember that the cold will keep poachers away.  My favorite scene, as in human films, is the courtship scene, when the glistening feathers showed me where 耳磨絲缠 comes from. December 12, 2005

Baraka

A snow monkey in a hot spring in Japan opens the scene.  He sits there, held still as if in this photograph, and looks ahead, with his clear penetrating eyes and a graceful nose curving down to a noble mouth.  Once in while, droplets rolls off from his gray hair into the pond, tinkering with the calm before joining it.  In my head, I rush to cover him with a blanket, afraid that he is as cold as his red face would feel against mine.  But he does not glance or shiver, and stays with the water.  What are you thinking and how do you feel, I asked him.  He does not answer or show and I cannot make out a thought or mood.  But all the anthropoid words cannot describe how close I felt to him. November 18, 2005