Amber Hiles's Blog, page 5

The Present

To the casual eye, the short film called “The Present,” appears to be about a kid getting a dog. As with every short film though, there is always a deeper meaning. In this short film, the boy explores the challenging topic of disability and living with an amputated leg.

At the beginning of the short film by Fabio Coala, the boy is lonely and is playing video games in his home. The video game sounds violent. The viewer can assume that the boy is getting his anger out by playing this video game. The boy’s outfit in the film shows his mood and feelings. He is wearing a blue sweatshirt with dark blue jeans and black shoes. He has short brown hair with light brown eyes.

The only location presented in the short film is the living room area. This helps us see that it conveys a typical family home. In the beginning, the living room is dark with no lights on and with the window blinds shut. With only the light of the television, the room felt gloomy. The living room’s bookshelf in the back by the window is not organized at all. Books scattered all around and a chip bag on the floor shows that the boy spends most of his time in this living room.

The boy’s facial expression when he first opened the box, gifted from his mother, was excited, but after he looked at the puppy, he was ungrateful and upset. He saw that the pup was like him, missing a leg. The boy put the puppy down and ignored it. The puppy tried so hard to get the boy’s attention until the boy realized the puppy never stopped going and going, even with an amputated leg. The pup motivated the boy to not give up, and not to underestimate himself. That is what the boy needed to know; that’s what drove him to get up and play with the dog. Not only did the dog motivate him, but also made the boy cheerful. 

Throughout the film, the boy takes on the difficulties of living with an amputated leg. The boy also changes through the story from being ungrateful to being driven to play with his new puppy. Even the location in the short film shows the boy’s personality. Most people can relate to this boy. The protagonist learned to never underestimate himself when faced with a challenge in life.

Taryn B. is a 7th grade writer. 2023.

Cover image from the Houston Chronicle, Jacob Frey and Markus Kranzler

Resident Eagles

Roadkill has always horrified me. A living being is tragically struck by a car, pickup, or God-forbid, a semi tractor trailer, it’s innards spilled over the road. As days go by, the once-warm body, beating heart, breathing lungs, is a furry grease stain, having been smashed again and again and again as drivers either pay no mind to the death on the road, or just don’t care.

Seeing death on the road affects me. With such sadness, I send up a prayer, an appreciation for the life. I have often considered keeping a shovel or something in my truck to remove bodies from roads, just because it’s so awful, and the body should go back to the earth, as intended, not be repeatedly run down on the pavement, where the only way it can become earth again is to be consumed by a bird of prey or traveling carnivore.

Seeing it happen is the absolute worst, death imminent as the helpless body flops around on the pavement, the little critter surely in shock and flight mode, seconds from death. Being subject to death on your commute is depressing. You get up, enjoy your morning coffee, pull on your socks, tie your boots, shut the garage door, and out onto the road to be greeted by a rising sun, cozy shelterbelts, and roadkill.

About midway through the winter season, after feet of snow fell during a South Dakota blizzard, I noticed a large tawny lump on top of the snow in a field a mile east of my home. It was a deer. There were two sets of tracks. Two sets of tracks from the road led to where the deer lay, and one set of tracks continued into the safety of the shelterbelt. How did the deer die? What was that moment like when the other deer, it’s companion or child, recognized that she wasn’t getting back up again and would have to go on without her?

I was heartbroken.

And I was heartbroken every day for the next 6 weeks as I drove past that lump in the field.

It would snow, and the lump would become a little snowy hill. Then it would thaw, and the fur could be seen as the snow melted again.

I wondered how long it would take for the carnivores to “clean it up.” There are many turkey vultures in town, coyotes run through the corn fields behind my home; surely, something would tear into it soon enough. It has, after all, been kept “on ice” through the weeks. It’s kind of an icky thought, I’ll give you that, but this is the way of the natural world. Death returns to the soil, either before or after it has been digested. Death gives way to life.

So, while the lump in the flat field was terribly sad, it was, as Disney has firmly planted into the minds of millions, “the circle of life.” It’s a wheel of fortune. This deer was a part of that wheel, serving to give life back, and I would be witness to it.

This deer was a part of that wheel, serving to give life back, and I would be witness to it.

See, it’s different when the death happens on the road, or even in the ditch. On the road, that life doesn’t give back; it’s grease. Oily, furry nastiness that isn’t even discernible as a once-living being. In the ditch, it’s mowed over, or it’s a pile of bones within months, sometimes weeks.

Never did I imagine what life this mama deer would be a part of sustaining.

First, it was one bald eagle. Regal. Thrilling. Graceful. Who doesn’t get a sense of awe and pride when they see this three-feet tall emblem of our nation with a seven-foot wing span? It’s ingrained in all Americans to have great respect for our stunning and beautiful national bird.

I began to look forward to this section of field (the same section of corn field which previously depressed me) because if I drove by at the right time of day, I would see the bald eagle atop the body of the deer, claiming it, looking around, gauging it’s safety in the area. This was quite a treat. For the bird, too. Pun intended.

It’s rare to see a bald eagle. I had maybe seen one a dozen times in my 37 years of life, and always at a great distance. This eagle was 100 yards off the highway.

I cursed myself for continually forgetting my Nikon. I’ve never had the pleasure of photographing a bald eagle- seeing one is such a fleeting moment. It’s “Wow, there’s a bald eagle. Whoa. Oooh. Ahh.” Then the moment is gone. This was different. I had seen this bald eagle 4 times in a week. Wheee doggy!

And it was a part of my day I looked forward to: the commute home after the work day. Driving west, waiting to get beyond the shelter belt by the 4-H grounds, to see if the eagle was there. When it was, I would check ahead and behind, slow down a bit if I could safely, taking it all in, appreciating that moment.

Then, one day, it wasn’t just one bald eagle. It was two. Two. For a couple weeks, the two bald eagles came to claim the body of the deer. And still, I had lapsed and was sans camera. It didn’t matter if I had captured it, really; it was still such a special moment.

I stayed late after work one day for oral interpretation practice. During a check-in call with my husband, he told me that there were now three bald eagles in the field! I nearly leapt out of my office chair. I wanted to see for myself. Hopefully they would still be there. On the way home, there they were, and today was the day. I called my husband and said, “Grab my camera, and get in my truck; we’re doing this thing.”

Photo Credit: Mrs. Amber Hiles

My oldest daughter, husband, and I drove a mile back east of our home and found a safe spot to park. I took photos of the three birds through my long lens. When they took flight, I was snapping one after another. How magnificent to see them fly, to see those massive wings lift them off the ground. I followed them through the lens and discovered a fourth eagle perched atop an evergreen in the shelter belt. Four! Four bald eagles. Over the next 15 chilly minutes of frozen fingers, flinging myself back and forth from window to window in the back seat, and about 65 photos, it was time to head home. The birds had been disturbed enough for one day.

But, oh, what a spectacle they allowed us to be a part of.

Since that day, some crows have joined in on the field feast, taking what they can when the eagles allow. It’s an interesting thing to be grateful for a dead deer in a corn field. You just never know what the consequence of one thing will be on another. You never know how one event leads into the next. You can’t anticipate that the thing that makes you sad will one day lead to awe and inspiration.

Photo credit: Mrs. Amber Hiles. Two miles west of Mitchell, SD.

From “Eagle Symbolism,” by Trish Phillips: When an eagle appears, you are on notice to be courageous and stretch your limits. Do not accept the status quo, but rather reach higher and become more than you believe you are capable of. Look at things from a new, higher perspective. Be patient with the present; know that the future holds possibilities that you may not yet be able to see. You are about to take flight.

All photos by: Mrs. Amber Hiles.