Standoff

There it was. Right in front of me. What should have been fur flying, agonizing primal screams and war cries, spittle flung and frothing, a gnashing of teeth, the crunch of breaking bones, arcs and waves of blood, feathers floating in the air awash with salmon sunset; certain mayhem and violent death was instead replaced by silent curiosity, passive restraint, salient intrigue, and above all, mutual respect.
I watched two natural enemies, two female Rottweilers and a husband and wife swan duo replete with a squadron of ducklings splashing and quacking in their wake, juxtaposed muzzle to beak mere feet from the other in the shallows of the Colorado River. No squawks or charges, no barks or lunges, just staring at the other. Peaceful. Quiet. Respectful. And then, once satisfied or bored, or a queer mixture of the two, both turned from the other and went back to their respective worlds, oblivious within seconds of the encounter, more than likely. Much to do... so much to do. Food to find. Balls to fetch. Their lives simplified and uncomplicated.
Now, if it would have been two rival human species, there would have been massive carnage and most certain idiotic, chaotic, flesh rending, eye gouging death. ‘Cause that’s all we know. That’s all we’ve been conditioned to respond to for thousands upon thousands of years.
How come the animals and nature get it right, but we have our heads jammed so far up our rectums there isn’t any way out, only permanent shit stains around our feeble and getting more extinct by the day necks? And we’re supposed to be the smart ones?!
Humans.... I shit them. Well fuck, they shit themselves really.
I wanna walk with the animals, talk with the animals, grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals...