From: Gurudev Chitrabhanu, by Cohen NotMilk
“We’re our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.”
– Tom Robbins
On Sunday last, I was reminded of a moment twelve years ago. A moment in which I participated in an animal rescue.
It was the morning of a mid-November, 2013 day that would make my life more meaningful. November 17th would be a day in which I helped to make a difference in the life of one creature that was captured and was fated to become a meal for a human. It was a total feel-good moment for the two of us; for the three of us.
I was joined by a well-known animal rescue individual. This activist is known by neighbors as one who feeds
wild possums and raccoons and rescues homeless Jellicle cats. Hungry birds after snowstorms. Field mice and
homeless dogs get fresh water during the sweltering dog days of August. Worms are rescued after soaking rains.
Last Sunday, the two of us spent a few hours together discussing a new organization we would begin to rescue
animals, and at one point, yearned for a vegan snack. I knew just the place. A Chinese produce market near my
Oradell, NJ home which makes wonderful steamed vegan buns filled with shredded cabbage, and thin cellophane
rice noodles.
We walked through the store which also sells vegan sauces. Plant-based oyster-sauces made from fermented mushrooms. Vegan Hoi Sin sauce and fake fish sauces containing no dead creatures. And then, at the rear of the store, where live crabs and lobsters, carp, and striped bass swim in enormous tanks, we simultaneously made eye contact with large bullfrogs which were being sold for their enormous legs to feed people. Ever make eye contact with a frog? We did, and instantly knew then what had to be done.
We could not rescue all of them. Dozens of large bullfrogs were piled atop each other in a large plastic holding cell. We could rescue one. He (or she) would live to become a freshwater swamp’s ambassador for all other creatures that human animals abuse.
There was a man working behind the frog enclosure holding a razor-sharp stainless steel cleaver, ready to separate the legs from living frog bodies. On this day, one large forest-green overactive hopping frog would not feel its sting.
For $5.99 per pound, Ranidae Lithobates catesbeiana was soon in a bag in our car as we proceeded with our rescue mission.
In fifteen minutes, we were walking up the west side of a Palisade hill which would have taken us atop a mountain and then down again to the Hudson River. Long before reaching the top, there was a large mountain pond located at a Bergen County, NJ nature center preserve which would become the frog’s new home. Spiro. My friend named the frog Spiro. The lake was filled with lily pads, and was an ideal setting. The frog did not turn around to thank us. The frog kick was more beautiful that that of Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps.