Surprises of Winter


                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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