At its heart, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a meditation on man's (or woman's) ability (or lack thereof) to live in harmony with nature. Sure, on the surface it's all walking in the woods and observing, but what Dillard observes is that nature is brutal, nonsensical, and heartbreaking. She can only watch so many insects cannibalize each other before she starts to question the wisdom of her pilgrimage. The interaction of species Dillard witnesses during her year at Tinker Creek reveals deeper truths about beauty, spirituality, death, and the essence of seeing.
Questions About Man and the Natural World
- What's the reasoning in creating a billion insects (or fish, or muskrats, or whatever) when only a few will survive? Does this suggest the existence of a creator, or the lack thereof?
- Dillard observes that while insects, trees, and turtles have hard outer shells, humans are soft on the outside. How does this serve us? Would humans be better off with shells? Would insects be better off with skin?
- Dillard says she'd like to care about grasses, because it would make the natural world even more compelling. Given her obsessive interest in the rest of nature—including trees—why doesn't she care? Can you think of anything interesting about grass?
Chew on This
Dillard believes that if you live in a city, you'll always be waiting for your life to start. For her, deeper seeing requires going to the country.
Dillard opens and closes the book with the story of her former cat, who refused to be domesticated. She appreciates the cat's need for adventure enough that she's willing to let it claw her face in her sleep. Shutting the window is for suckers.