All of the animals except man know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Oakhaven Park, illuminating a scene of almost unsettling tranquility. Squirrels chased each other with a frantic, joyful abandon, seemingly oblivious to the approaching dusk. A flock of pigeons, usually scattered and skittish, strutted across the paved path, cooing contentedly as children giggled and (attempted to) share crumbs of bread. Old Man Hemlock, a park regular known for his daily philosophical pronouncements to anyone who would listen – and many who wouldn't – was observing it all with a furrowed brow.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” he muttered to a young woman sketching in a notebook. “Absolutely remarkable. All of them. Just… being. That’s the key, you see.”

The woman, a university student named Clara studying ethology, glanced up, a polite smile gracing her lips. “They’re certainly exhibiting natural behaviors. It’s a good day for foraging, I suppose.”

Hemlock waved a dismissive hand. "Foraging, yes, formally speaking. But it’s how they forage, child. It’s the sheer, unadulterated delight they take in the act. They aren’t thinking about quarterly reports, or retirement funds, or the existential dread of modern existence. They’re experiencing the simple, immediate joy of… a nut. A seed. A particularly satisfying patch of sunlight.”

He paused, leaning heavily on his cane. "All of the animals except man know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it.”

The sentiment, though familiar, resonated oddly in the increasingly harried atmosphere of the city. Recent studies, ironically spearheaded by Clara’s department, showed a marked increase in reported anxiety and burnout, even in younger demographics. The relentless pursuit of productivity, the perceived need for constant self-improvement, the pressure to curate a perfect online persona – all seemingly contributing to a collective inability to simply be.

“It’s a bit simplistic, don’t you think?” Clara offered gently. “Human consciousness grants us the capacity for abstract thought, for long-term planning. We have responsibilities, obligations.”

“Responsibilities invented by ourselves!” Hemlock retorted, his voice gaining a little vigor. “Obligations crafted from societal pressures! The wolf doesn’t worry about paying its mortgage. The bear doesn’t lament its lack of a promotion. They live. They hunt, they sleep, they play, they raise their young, and they do it with a focus that is… breathtaking.”

He pointed a shaky finger towards a golden retriever bounding through the grass, chasing a frisbee with unbridled enthusiasm. “Look at him! He’s not thinking about his legacy. He’s not calculating the optimal angle for maximum aerodynamic efficiency. He's just enjoying the throw."

The conversation sparked a small gathering. A stressed-looking businessman, on his lunch break and scrolling endlessly through emails, paused to listen. A mother, struggling to wrangle her rambunctious twins, found herself momentarily captivated. Even a teenage boy, glued to his phone just moments before, briefly raised his head.

Clara, caught in the unexpected audience, felt compelled to elaborate on her research. “We’ve observed that animals prioritize play even when resources are scarce. It’s not frivolous; it's essential for cognitive development, social bonding, and even problem-solving. It’s a fundamental drive, ingrained in their nervous systems."

“And we’ve somehow managed to… override that drive,” Hemlock added sadly. “We’ve built a world where ‘busy’ is a badge of honor, where exhaustion is a status symbol. We measure our worth by our output, not our joy.”

The businessman abruptly closed his email app, a flicker of something that might have been recognition crossing his face. The mother laughed, a genuine, unforced sound, as one of her twins attempted to climb a tree. Even the teenager lowered his phone, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Perhaps, Clara thought, Old Man Hemlock wasn't just rambling. Perhaps there was a profound truth in his simple observation. Perhaps, in our relentless pursuit of… well, everything, we had forgotten the most fundamental thing of all: to allow ourselves to simply enjoy the throw. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues. The park, filled with the happy sounds of animals and, for a fleeting moment, people, felt like a sanctuary – a reminder of a truth that lay just beneath the surface of our complex lives.