An Analysis Of Annie Dillard

In nature things often occur that parallel our way way of being. In this short excerpt, Annie Dillard portrays the amount of determination and stubbornness in weasels, which is much like our own. At the beginning Ms. Dillard reflects on the characteristics that make a weasel wild. She writes that the weasel “…[kills] more bodies than he can eat warm, and often dragging the carcasses home” (Dillard 1). She then moves on to the weasels instinct,and stubbornness, through an anecdote in which a naturalist found himself with a weasel stuck to his arm with one bite, and try as he might her could not “pry the tiny weasel” (Dillard 1) off his arm. The only way he was able to release himself was to “soak him[the weasel] off like a stubborn label”(Dillard

My parents both worked full time and most of the time we had beans and rice for breakfast, lunch and diner, however every Friday night at about 7:00 we would gather our things and head out for the taqueria at the corner of the street. We could smell the cooking meat and grilled onions before we could even see the stand. Once we arrived we sat on the worn out green seats and ordered, as I was merely three years old, I could only eat about a taco before becoming full. At the end of the night with full bellies and content hearts we walked back home, and awaited for the next Friday. 
 A year later we moved the United States, and i no longer had my favorite tacos to look forward to, instead I had burgers and hot dogs, and a million other things my small brain couldn 't comprehend. Every christmas we had chicken tamales, and at every party we had beef stew. It became a tradition; we were a meat family, and I the biggest meat eater of all. Soon after I discovered the wonders of rare meats and other cuisines, I became a veteran of Thai, Italian, Vietnamese, Korean, Mediterranean, and other new kinds of foods. I tried a plethora of eccentric meats; brain, tongue, eyeballs, tentacles; I even ate grasshoppers, and ants. Thus it was that I became one of the most dedicated and adventurous meat-eaters you were ever likely to meet. I liked my meat bloody, perhaps thirty seconds on each side, slap it on a plate and I would be

I lasted two weeks before i gave in to my cravings and had a, practically, raw steak with lemon, and so much chili it made my eyes water. Eating meat was, and is, my fondest memory of Mexico, eating meat was a family tradition, and meat was the one thing I knew and loved. Along with this my parents and family members were not very understanding of my decision. At parties the only thing i could usually eat was rice and at school vegetarian options were very minimal and quite disgusting. Letting go of such a big part of my life was a huge struggle however I was determined to do so. Just as the weasel refuses to let go, i refuse to let myself fall back into my old eating habits. Fighting against the yearning was a constant agony, and sometimes it felt like determination alone was not enough, but it always was. I eventually managed to make it easier, meals became a pleasure once again and the constant yearning soon subsided, never completely, but just enough. It may kill me, but at least, just as the weasel, I put up a