Tigers

“Nasrudin was throwing handfuls of crumbs around his house. ‘What are you doing?’ someone asked him. ‘Keeping the tigers away.’ ‘But there are no tigers in these parts.’ ‘That’s right. Effective, isn’t it?’” -The Exploits of the Incomparable Mulla Nasrudin.

For those who are unfamiliar with 13th century Turkish writers, Nasrudin was a prolific author whose style included sharing lessons by poking fun at activities or people, often making himself the butt of his own joke.

I came across this quote the other day as I was thinking about tigers, both real and imagined.

When my children were much younger we made a visit to the Minnesota Zoo. While there we spent some time at the tiger exhibit. Part of the exhibit includes a large glass wall allowing visitors to get within inches of the tigers inside. “Whisker close” is the phrase the zoo’s marketing staff uses to describe the experience.

On this particular day, a group of plump toddlers in strollers were in a line intently watching the big cat pace back and forth. The tiger was likewise watching the children intently. While its pacing could be mistaken for it just exercising or boredom, it was carefully measuring out the barrier and looking at opportunity for a tasty meal, much like a barn cat ready to pounce on a juicy field mouse.

Tigers are terrifying. To our ancient ancestors the apex predator who can see in the dark and is all but silent while stealthily stalking its victims was the stuff of nightmares. Those who research such things look at prehistoric tigers and other stealth-hunting big cats as being a source of the common human trait of being afraid of the dark.

There are no tigers in Taylor County.

That doesn’t keep us from imagining them, along with the other monsters that lurk in our subconscious, when we are walking at night and hear a twig snap or the underbrush rustle.

Despite there being no tigers in Taylor County, people fight them every day. The fear of the tiger is in the anxiety you feel when you mess up at work or in your home life. The fear of the tiger is in the panicked paralysis you feel before you start something new or which prevents you from approaching that person you find interesting at the bar or party. The fear of the tiger is what keeps you secure behind the imaginary glass walls you have built for your life.

There are no tigers in Taylor County and very few anywhere else outside of zoos and animal parks.

If given a chance, a tiger will eat you. It is what they do and part of their nature.

There are no tigers here and while a moment of embarrassment, social awkwardness or getting reprimanded by your boss may be uncomfortable, it is not on the same level as being eaten by an apex predator. When you put it in that perspective very few things that we fear in our daily lives rise to that level of threat.

Our ancient ancestors worked together to face the tigers that hunted them and turned the tables on the ferocious beasts. Perhaps in coming together we too can face those tigers that stalk our personal nightmares.

Communities are the breadcrumbs that keep both real and imagined tigers at bay.

***

My daughter hates my new vehicle.

As regular readers may remember, by trusty (and rusty) Flex went to the big scrapyard in the sky after coming out second-best in a collision with a deer earlier this fall.

With the vehicle I really want unavailable until sometime a year from now, my wife and I made the decision to go with practicality and picked up a low mileage used vehicle. My daughter’s complaint is that my car now looks like every other red crossover in the parking lot. She also complains that they can’t hear me coming from blocks away like they could due to the exhaust I never got around to getting repaired on the Flex.

In a community where residents quickly identify each other by the vehicles they drive, I have enjoyed being in stealth mode as I ride around in my nondescript red crossover.

Brian Wilson is News Editor at The Star News.