Well, here we are, up to our eye
brows in Mother Nature’s wintry wonders and enjoying all the sights, sensations
and beauty.
Let me tell you about a time
when Mother Nature left me a little Christmas present of her own.
I was just a happy, excited kid
the year we went out to my grandparents’ farm for the Holiday season. They both
had a deep respect for nature, so when they developed their land, they made a
point of leaving large swaths of untouched forest, meadows and swamps so the
wild creatures could thrive. This was very important, they felt. The result was
a big, private nature reserve for all of us kids to explore. It was years
before I came to realize how lucky we truly were. I remember gently sloping
mounds of snow, crystallized artworks dangling from the trees surrounding the
yard, and flashes of breath-taking blue as the jays dropped by the feeder for a
nibble.
On frosty day, in spite of (or
perhaps because of) the changing winter landscape, my father and I decided to
go for a walk. It was chilly, but the beauty was too much to resist.
We made our way across a wide
open field buried under the gently sweeping drifts.
“Follow in my footsteps!” my
father had called over his shoulder. Although I’ve tried to follow that advice
metaphorically in the ensuing years, at that moment, he was speaking quite
literally. His boots were large and heavy, and his legs strong. With each step,
he left behind a deep spacious footprint. He felt that walking in his
footprints would just be easier and safer for his little one. After all, the
snow was nearly knee-deep for me!
I was wandering along peacefully
behind him, observing how different Grandpa’s farm looked in winter. All was
peaceful and very, very quiet.
I glanced down to find the next
footprint, and stopped. I thought I saw something dark down there. I looked
closer. The footprint was deep, white and empty. My imagination, I thought. I
started to move on.
But before I could take another
step, it shot past at a mighty speed.
I shrieeeeeked!!!! My shrill cry
echoed across the countryside, bouncing off the wall of trees that edged the
field. My father whirled and came back.
“What!? What happened?” He
cried, alarmed. He must have thought I’d fallen and hurt myself or something.
“Daddy!” I screamed, “There’s
something in there!”
“What? Where?”
“In your footprint!” I pointed.
The little brown figure dashed frantically back and forth from one side of the
print to the other. My father bent over and peeked.
“It’s just a mouse,” he said
coolly, “What are you screaming for?”
He had grown up in the country
where little creatures are a daily event.
As for me, sheer terror suddenly
melted into curiosity. I dared to peek more carefully into the hole. The tiny,
adorable mammal paused a minute and looked up at me. He was so small and sweet
and harmless looking. I’d never seen such a thing! It was a bit scary but
utterly fascinating all at the same time.
The mouse took off and sprinted
frantically back and forth. It disappeared from view for a minute before
reappearing. There was a hole in the side of the footprint, I realized. It was
a mouse-sized tunnel-like hole that the mouse kept running in and out of. An
equal hole lined up perfectly on the other wall of the print. The mice build
tunnels under the snow bank in the winter, my father explained. It’s a quick,
easy way for them to get around without being in danger from hawks and coyotes.
My father must have accidentally stepped in and crushed part of their
labyrinth, which covered who-knows-how-much of this field. Now the little mouse
was running frantically about as if confused and panicked.
“Why don’t you take a picture?”
My father motioned to the camera hanging around my neck. I’d brought it specifically
in case we ran into anything interesting, and now I forgot about it completely.
With fumbling, excited hands, I pulled it out of its case. It was an old 35 mm
camera that used to belong to my father. It was just about ready for the
antique sales, but for a kid’s first camera, it was just the thing. I leaned
over and pressed the clicker. Unfortunately mice, especially the frantic
displaced ones, are not very good at sitting still and posing for pictures, so
all I got was dark streak in one corner of the picture. Oh well. In my memory,
that mouse still darts back and forth, clear and beautiful.
We explored a bit more, and then
returned to the house. I was breathless to tell the rest of the family about
our adventure. It was one of my first ever encounters with wildlife and I was
flush with excitement. I was officially hooked on nature.
Well, I’ll have to take next
week off from posting, just because of the Holidays, but I’ll be back with
another story on January 2nd. Check back with me! After all, I have
much to tell you!
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