The Hungry Hippopotamus
While this Hippopotamus might appear to be roaring at the world (and he should), he was simply wallowing in cool water, waiting for the next passing tourist to toss fruit into his wide open mouth on the sunny island of Fuerteventura.
It’s really sad what we, as a species, have done to planet Earth. Our greed and destruction has consigned many animals to extinction. Now, we have to view our neighbours in Zoological Gardens to help preserve what few remain. I’m not a big fan of any zoo, but they do serve a purpose in helping to fend off mankind’s utter stupidity.
- In a press release issued today by the World Wildlife Fund, they said: “Plummeting numbers of mammals, reptiles, amphibians, birds and fish around the world are an urgent sign that nature needs life support”
- The conservation organisation’s flagship Living Planet Report 2018 shows population sizes of wildlife fell an average of 60 percent globally since 1970.
More than 99 percent of all species, amounting to over five billion species, that ever lived on Earth are estimated to be extinct. Estimates on the number of Earth’s current species range from 10 million to 14 million, of which about 1.2 million have been documented and over 86 percent have not yet been described.
- Homo Sapien Means Wise Man
Just think: In the future, your children, and their children’s children might only be able to view wild animals from archived photographs. How sad is that? 😢
The average lifespan of a species is 1–10 million years. Homo Sapiens have been around for 200,000 years. There isn’t much hope for the planet at this current rate. But, nature often finds a way. Mass extinction of the human race may be on the way if we don’t change our ways – it’s probably what we deserve from Gaia, our mother.
- We’re Not Very Wise At All
The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.
The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
The ’potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.
At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way—
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
I saw the ’potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.