![]() ![]() 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. He received many honorary degrees and was a fellow of multiple professional societies. Gravely I arranged my forepaws while the puppy whimpered with ill-concealed excitement. Loren Eiseley (Septem July 9, 1977) was an American anthropologist, educator, philosopher, and natural science writer, who taught and published books from the 1950s through the 1970s. 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. Most recently, in 1995 Mary Ellen Pitts published Toward a Dialogue of Understandings: Loren Eiseley and the Critique of Science. ![]() Heidtmann approaches Eiseley as a memoirist, an approach that again foregrounds biography. It was a small fox pup from a den under the timbers who looked up at me. In 1991 Peter Heidtmann published Loren Eiseley: A Modern Ishmael. ![]() I crept on my knees and crouched beside him. ![]()
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