By JIM NICHOLS

The university purchasing office occasionally phoned me to question some purchase order from the Biology Department. They were not suspicious as much as they were curious. Why would we order a dozen pig hearts? Five dozen meal worms? Owl pellets? And what exactly are owl pellets? It made for interesting conversations with the purchasing office.

With all the dogs and cats around, we forget that most animals are wild. Partly because of their wildness, they are examples of wonderful and amazing lifestyles that can be easily overlooked. This diminishes our appreciation for an important part of creation.

You may not have considered, for example, that birds eat quite hard food items such as seeds. Yet, birds lack teeth with which to physically crunch up the food. How do they do that?

Whereas our stomach is primarily a storage and digestive organ, birds have an additional compartment called the gizzard. Within this muscular structure are hardened ridges and plates (perhaps supplemented by pebbles or small stones). Muscle contractions rub these hard items against the ingested food, and it crushes it up, just as our teeth do. It is a great system, but not perfect in its outcome.

Some of the “food” (particularly fur, feathers, and bones of prey) is incompletely broken down or indigestible. This leftover stuff is rolled into a bundle and regurgitated by the bird. For a larger bird, such as an owl, these “owl pellets” can be gathered by humans resulting in a positive payoff.

Ecologists have found owl pellets a rich source of information. For example, the range for an individual animal can be judged by analyzing particularly the undigested bones of the owl’s prey. Since the owl flies over a specific range and there are several types of prey within ranges, variations in the prey bones allow understanding of a specific animal’s range.

In addition, enterprising biology supply companies employ “owl pellet gatherers” (probably teenage boys who appreciate the “gross” aspect of it) to collect the pellets beneath roosting sites. The company wraps each pellet in aluminum foil, sterilizes them, and sells them to schools. Many biology students have “dissected” pellets and reconstructed the skeletons of the prey. 

As odd as all this might sound, to the minds of some of us it is fascinating. It is also an example of God’s creativity.

Because of our multiple bird feeders and baths, our backyard hosts numerous feathered visitors. Occasionally, however, there are none. The explanation is that there are also hawks in the area. One hawk sitting on the top of the fence is enough to cause an exodus of smaller birds. Sometimes, one of them does not get away.

Squirrels join the birds in the yard, but their relationship with the hawks is less certain. Perhaps not recognizing or appreciating the switchblade sharp talons of the hawks, some squirrels are amazingly brave. The other day a hawk sat in one position on the fence and a squirrel in a parallel position about ten yards away. Every time the hawk made a lateral move, the squirrel made a matching one. It was as if they were dancing together. This lasted several minutes. I am not one for anthropomorphizing animals, but one can build a whole story around the transaction. Which animal is leading in this encounter? Is the squirrel being foolish or does it know exactly what it is doing? Do animals tease one another? Although it is difficult to read an animal’s expression, was the hawk scowling at the dance partner?

As humans, we live in a disjointed relationship with wild animals. They seem to be afraid of us, but not always. We appreciate their colors and bodies, but that appreciation must occur at a distance.

As you and I go about our daily routines dealing mostly with “things” and borderline trivia, we would do well to note the wonderfully adventurous and ingenious pieces of creation around us. There in our background are displays of amazing creativity, resourcefulness, and strength; let us rejoice in them. 

Nineteenth century novelist Henry James encouraged observation and astonishment when he wrote, “Be one on whom nothing is lost.”    

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospice chaplain