Sunday, 26 February 2012

Death and Destruction

Just lately I have been on a mission to murder some pests that have been taking over my vegetable garden. This is the one I have a special vendetta against:

 and this is either what it emerges from or what it becomes (or both):
 or possibly this is:
and these are the eggs that either Suspect 1, 2 or 3 lays and from which, I think, Suspect 1 blossoms, before becoming its thoroughly unpleasant and destructive self:

Anyway as I squashed my umpteenth Suspect 1 this morning, I did have a moment's pang of compassion, even though I hate the little furry monsters. "Sorry mate," I thought, as the thing collapsed beneath my fingers. "The trouble is I've got to look after these poor, defenceless, little plants, you see".

And as I felt the revolting squish of the little invertebrate's body and saw the resulting squirt of brilliant yellow, (quite possibly chrome yellow, for all I know, [and yes, I am aware that the Huxley one is actually Crome Yellow, named after a place and blah blah blah, but I thought I'd shove the reference in anyway, partly to add a touch of class amid the horror, Mr Kurtz, the horror]) goo splatter across my cucumber plant's leaves, it crossed my mind that, when people point to unexpected, pointless suffering as a reason for dismissing the existence of a deity, when they suggest that sudden accidents and senseless deaths are an argument against the likelihood of there being a divine being, they may actually be looking at things from the wrong perspective.

Maybe humanity is not the focal point of anything. Perhaps there is a deity, but one whose main priority isn't in fact us.


  1. Looks like what we call a ladybug. Ladybugs eat aphids, so gardeners usually love them (one bug can eat 5,000 ahids in a lifetime). Guess the larvae may be less helpful. But without the larvae, no aphid-killers

    1. I think that suspect 3 is an invading Ladybird called something like the 62-dot ladybird. That's what my plant scientist neighbour reckons. They are not like nice traditional ladybirds apparently - a lot bigger, to start with, as big as a finger nail. The yellow and black one (suspect 2) reminds me of a London traffic warden. Suspect 1 is just unspeakable.

  2. Neighbour is right. The big not-ladybirds are a nuisance, unlike the real bright orange ones. You're right about the deity too, otherwise It would be more concerned about the harmless little trilobytey creatures that are zapped by the Daddy Long Legs in our bathroom for a snack. But then again, the same could be said of the carnivorous ladybirds attacking the aphids....

    I love the flexibility in theology sometimes. You can so easily make it fit any circumstances.

    1. But its most important function, as far as I'm concerned, is to acknowledge mystery.