But why, and for what reason it dreams, there is no evidence. Loren Eiseley, anthropologist, educator and author, died Saturday of cardiac arrest following a recent series of operations at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital. of a biologist who ' dances ' with frogs ( ' The Dance of the Frogs, ' ST, 106-15 ) or an. It is as if matter dreamed and muttered in its sleep. Loren Eiseley and the Critique of Science Mary Ellen Pitts. In the world there is nothing below a certain depth that is truly explanatory. The equation that can explain why a mere Sphex wasp contains in its minute head the ganglionic centers of its prey has still to be written. Worship, then, like the Maya, the unknown zero, the procession of the time-bearing gods. To bring organic novelty into existence, to create pain, injustice, joy, demands more than we can discern in the nature that we analyze so completely. Nothing to explain the necessity of life, nothing to explain the hunger of the elements to become life, nothing to explain why the stolid realm of rock and soil and mineral should diversify itself into beauty, terror, and uncertainty. But watching them in the October light as one circles my head in curiosity, I can only repeat my dictum softly: in the world there is nothing to explain the world. I believe my great backyard Sphexes have evolved like other creatures.
It is the gravest, most meaningful act I shall ever accomplish, but, as Thoreau once remarked of some peculiar errand of his own, there is no use reporting it to the Royal Society.” Round and round we tumbled and for just one ecstatic moment I held the universe at bay by the simple expedient of sitting on my haunches before a fox den and tumbling about with a chicken bone. On impulse, I picked up clumsily a whiter bone and shook it in teeth that had not entirely forgotten their original purpose. I drew the breath of a fox's den into my nostrils. LOREN EISELEY From The Star Thrower ( 1978 ) ' The Dance of the Frogs ' He was a member of the Explorers Club, and he had never been outside the state of. Gravely I arranged my forepaws while the puppy whimpered with ill-concealed excitement. It was a time only for the careful observance of amenities written behind the stars. the universe was swinging in some fantastic fashion around to present its face and the face was so small that the universe itself was laughing. He innocently selected what I think was a chicken bone from an untidy pile of splintered rubbish and shook it at me invitingly. His parents must not have been home from hunting. God knows what had become of his brothers and sisters. It was a small fox pup from a den under the timbers who looked up at me. About Loren Eiseley: Collected Essays on Evolution, Nature, and the Cosmos Vol.
I crept on my knees and crouched beside him.
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