History is full of warnings. Collapsed bridges, failed financial systems, wars sparked by pride, pandemics mishandled, environmental disasters ignored until too late. We document them. We build memorials. We write books titled “Lessons Learned.” And yet, decades later, a similar pattern unfolds again.

It is tempting to assume that human progress automatically prevents repetition. We have better technology, more data, and instant communication. We can analyze past catastrophes in microscopic detail. So why do we keep making the same fatal errors?

When news breaks about an animal attack, the language is almost always the same. “It came out of nowhere.” “There was no reason.” “The animal just snapped.” We instinctively search for motive the way we would in a human crime. Was it hungry? Was it provoked? Was it angry? And when none of those explanations seem obvious, we label the event as senseless.

But the idea of killing “without reason” is deeply human.

An animal attack is not like the dramatic scenes shown in movies. It is sudden, disorienting, loud, and often over in seconds. There is no background music. No slow motion. Just adrenaline, confusion, and injury. In that moment, the body shifts into survival mode — heart racing, senses sharpened, pain temporarily dulled. But once the immediate threat passes, reality sets in. Blood. Shock. Uncertainty.