My natural environment.

My natural environment's relationship to me is the university's relationship to the student. My natural environment is my university. The classes taught here are grim ones indeed. The professors vary.

One such professor is my five year old cat. Dressed completely in black like sin incarnate he stretches, arching his back. He yawns and soaks up the afternoon sun, completely at home on the front lawn. Then suddenly his body stiffens. His ears perk up, twitch, and then twist backwards. He can hear something that I cannot. Carefully, quietly, he rises and creeps toward the sound, his tail swaying back and forth behind him. Again his body stiffens and he crouches, completely motionless. He sees the source of the noise before I do a baby bird, hidden in the grass.

A cheshire smile from my feline professor; class is in session.

It must have fallen from the nearest tree, a giant evergreen, although no parents, or nests filled with siblings can be seen nearby. My professor rises from his crouch. Apparently stealth is not a necessity. For a couple of seconds the two stare at each other. Is the bird old enough to feel fear? My professor glances up at me to see if I'm watching, and, seeing that I am, swats the bird, clawlessly, like a slap, across the face. The bird winces, wings ruffled, and squawks in reply. Surely it feels danger now.

My professor scans his surroundings, possibly looking to see if the bird's parents are nearby. Seeing none, he hits the baby bird again, harder this time. The bird is rocked to the side, tipping over. It struggles and its tiny wings flap spastically in all directions. Only through tremendous effort does it eventually right itself. My professor's claws are out now. I can tell because this time when he hits I can hear a slight popping as the claws puncture flesh. His paw becomes stuck to the side of the bird's face and requires a second effort to yank it back again. Now the bird is visibly hurt. Bird blood leaks from a closed and swollen eye. It chirps desperately loud, calling for protection, for deliverance from a threat that it cannot understand, but none arrives. My professor attacks again in an attempt to stifle the cry. He manages to slash the baby's exposed neck, leaving three thin but long, deep red lines. Blood quickly flows from these wounds as well. But the bird is not silenced! If anything it cries out louder than ever a sound so frantic and piercing it leaves my hair standing on

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