I was putting up some curtains when I happen to look out of the bay window.

Seeing a disturbance in my spa, I strained leaning closer to the window for a better look. Water was moving and yet the waterfall spilling over from the spa had stopped a couple of hours before. Upon focusing my eyes past the screened window I saw something swimming and it piqued my interest.  Longish, may be a foot long, I could see it undulating beneath the water.  It was beautiful, mesmerizing even. I was unsure if it was a young snake, or perhaps a chipmunk, but I continue to watch fascinated. Finally it swam over to the edge, broke the surface of the water, jumped in a lyrical way, reaching… trying to get to the edge.  

Oh.  It was a chipmunk.  This is the first year ever for chipmunks on the ranch. Usually I saw them dashing about the outside of the pool, playful, yet twitchy like they were on some drugged game of tag.  They would climb up to the overhang and dart in and out of the Wisteria, a source of amusement for me. Round and round they would run, scaring off the birds who had landed on the screwy young branches in hopes of drying their ruffled feathers after a quick bath in the waterfall.  Just as summer had dwindled so had the chipmunks. Raptors nested in the palm trees and sought out the furry little creatures to feed their young.  It was mother nature caught in her humor and cruelty.  It was the way of life.

I could see it was still an inch or two from safety.  I watch for moment more as it undulated beautifully a little further around the spa and tried reaching the edge again. Captivated by the beauty of the fluid movement I realized if he just swam another couple of inches to the left he would come to the waterfall area of the spa lower by several inches to be below the surface he been trying to reach.  He would no doubt make it to safety.

In that split second I realized I should go down, maybe help him to reach the waterfall and safety.   I could videotape it, and write a wonderful piece about it. I knew he'd make it, one way or another.

I grabbed my iPhone and made my way down the stairs turning on the camera function as I went. As I walked down the stairs the camera came on.  I accidentally hit the photo button trying to put it into video mode.  It snapped my picture, twice. By the time I got to the back door, perhaps 30 seconds passed, if that.  I opened the French door and walked the 10-15 feet to the spa's edge with the video camera now running.

Only now he was laying on the portion of the spa made for sitting... under water.   Maybe 8 inches below the water's surface.  In that split second I saw him as he took his last breath, inhaling a final breath of water, maybe a thimble-full, that would fill his tiny lungs and cause instant death.  Horrified at the realization I stopped the video wondering how I could have stood there taping his last breath when I went to help him get to the edge, to safety. Fumbling, my shaking hands now erased the video as if the mere act of doing it would allow him to live.  By erasing the evidence this disgusting inaction of mine would not exist anymore. 

Yet the nightmare of reaching into the cold, clear water left an indelible imprint on my psyche.  The water was cold, his now lifeless body was still warm, flushed with life, but I knew would be rapidly growing cold.  As I lifted his now lifeless body up, water droplets stream down my hands and arms tainting them with his too-fresh death. A death I probably could have prevented had this You-Tube moment not caused me to forget my humanity.  Tears streamed down my face.  In this moment I thought of my brother, mother and husband taking their own last breaths.  I glanced behind me to where I had spread my husband's ashes.  This is where I will lay this lifeless body, just 2 years after.  I understand so much more about life and death.

The irony of our media culture has hit home  The vultures are always lurking, casting a shadow. None of us escapes.