While going on a walk today along the flood control levee behind my humble abode, I came across a curious thing.

There is a graveled roadway that runs across the top of the levee. It is closed to traffic by means of large padlocked gates, and the only vehicles that ever run down it are the tractors that mow the sides of the dam every few weeks in the summer, much less frequently other times of the year.

Right in the middle of the roadway was a small dark brown field mouse, extremely dead. I stopped to look at him/her/it, wondering how it may have ceased to be amongst the quick.

My first thought was that he may have gotten run over, but he was not smushed. In fact, there was no mark on him at all. Were it not for the ants that were beginning to crawl on him, you might have thought he was just curled up asleep.

Why is this curious, you might ask? Well, from what I've read on the subject, the odds of a small rodent dying a natural death, and by this I mean from non-violent means, as getting gobbled up by a hawk or a snake is a very natural way for a mouse to meet his little mouse Maker, are very slim indeed.

The other likely answer would be from some sort of disease, but he seemed to be in peak health; his fur was glossy, he was plump. Wouldn't a animal feeling poorly instinctively crawl into a dark corner somewhere to die in peace? Yet here he was right out in the open, as if he'd just keeled over from a stroke while traipsing about on his daily rounds.

Well, little guy, it seems your death will remain forever one of those many things that mankind will never know the truth of.

Once more I am reminded of how lucky I am to be alive, what an unlikely intersection of fortunate coincidences have led to my, yours, and the planet's life, and how short a time we have to enjoy it.

Along with that is the less happy realization that a few thousand years from now, my existence will have been of as minor import as that tiny mouse's.

Carpe Diem, my friends...

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