I just read a writer's blog post about the plight of tigers in the wild. There are only a few thousand or so in left existence. They are being poached for every possible use of their anatomy. I find it horrific.
The rest are in zoos and while I love zoos I always feel depressed when I see the big cats pace. They must feel humiliated. I would were I a big, regal beautiful beast. (The gorillas just throw things at you as in "you deserve it, you voyeur"... but the tigers just pace as in "get me outta here.") I know they are spared from the rugdom and cared for by the keeperdom, and absolutely loved by spectators... but still.
Now more than ever I have to write this story. They say to write from inspiration. That is always the best place to start. But before I do so I have to let go of the anger I feel towards the greedy killers. Otherwise, it'll just be an angry response. And that is not a good place to start.
Soon, I will talk about giraffes and how I feel about them. (They are so cool... yes they are!) And our experience with them.
Till then...think about nature as being here for you now, to enjoy as it is in alive and kicking. Not something to kill or destroy (physically or mentally). Please respect it.