the trickster has always skirted the boundaries, balancing at the edge, and he has carved out a place for himself in this new era.

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some argue that humans bring destruction wherever they go, but the trickster knows that is far from the truth. his home is with the creatures who live with the humans, tricksy and stubborn and clever; the red-tailed hawks that make their nests and raise their young nestled in steel sculptures, the termites and ants and microorganisms that crawl through wooden beams and plaster walls, the squirrels that race fearlessly across metal railings and asphalt walkways.

but the trickster suffers, too, in this geologic age driven by human-induced change. there are birds that smash into shining towers of glass and steel with enough force to kill, and deer that don't sight sedans and minivans racing toward them at fifty miles per hour until it's much too late, and raccoons and rodents that are caught in glue traps, where they can do nothing but wait - slowly, slowly, slowly - to die of dehydration. there is not much he can do, it seems, but try to guide the humans to a better path.