A few years ago, an aunt asked me, “Don’t you get bored looking at the same trees and park everyday?” She looked genuinely concerned because she had heard my mother-in-law say, yet again, that I was setting off on my walk.
They could not imagine why I would take the children on walks, or if they weren’t in the mood, then set off by myself.
I was genuinely shocked. Not because of the question but because nature is very rarely boring. It is full of adventure and mystery, not to mention humor, and joy.
Take for instance the morning walk a few days ago for me.
Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit
Winters in California can be tricky – cold, foggy, misty, cloudy, cold (did I mention cold already? Well – the cold this week is worth mentioning twice, so I’ll leave it).
I went reluctantly for a walk. See climatic conditions mentioned above for explanations. When I get up in the morning these days, I fervently wish I was born a bear. Hibernation would be a marvelous pursuit. The self-help channels and articles are all banging on about getting enough sleep, and yet society wants you to be up and about for long hours and at absurdly cold times too. Ridiculous!
That morning I moaned about being awake, and the husband gave me an amused look. I snapped petulantly, “What?! I have to be awake all the time once I get up – till I sleep again!”
“Isn’t that true for all creatures who aren’t nocturnal?”, he said, and I apparently replied in gibberish. Semantics. The point is, I did not want to get up. I do not want to get up. I do not want to start my day in the cold. But I do – everyday the alarm seems to go off earlier and earlier. It could not have been the whole night gone, could it?! I just got warm and comfortable. The comforter took that long to trap body heat, the heater did not turn on, the frozen nose took awfully long to thaw.
But human-beings are resilient if nothing else. So, I dragged myself out into the cold. On my morning walk, the fog was still lifting, and the cold made me look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. Even the birds seemed to be quieter. No chirping, no loud squawking.
Down in the riverbed, that I stopped to take a quick stroll before starting the day, life was slow too. I saw a great white egret with her little chick, some geese, some ducks, and a grey heron. All lethargic enough to match the atmosphere around them.
What is that – a rat, mole, otter, weasel?
That’s when I saw the sleek quick movement of the water mole. The water must have been biting cold. The frost on nearby rooftops could confirm that much at least. Yet, the water rat or mole or weasel or otter (I honestly do not know) was sleek and fast.
I was fascinated. I started walking to keep pace with it, and looked on amused as it kept away from the waiting blue heron. Smart.
That’s when I saw a duck family nearby. The duckling must’ve hatched late. For it was the only one its size in vicinity. The water rat was gaining on it, and I held my breath. That’s when I caught the white streaks on its tail. Ahh – it must be a skunk.
Do Skunks Eat Ducks?
Would I be witness to a tragedy that early in the morning? A creature’s got to eat, sure. But can’t it be less gruesome than watching a little duckling being pulled under water?
I willed the duckling to fly away, but it seemed oblivious. After what seemed like an eternity it sprang to life and ran away from the skunk. Slapping its webbed feet rapidly on the water like a basilisk – those creatures the children were fascinated with in elementary school.
I released a huge breath of air – I hadn’t realized I had held my breath in for that long.
Who says there is no adventure and mystery in nature?
There’s plenty of it. I will have to tell the aunt all about it.
The water-skunk went on its way, the sun slowly started to peek its way through the misty morning, and I jogged my spirits up to get back home and start a day of work.
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.
-Rachel Carson
Nourish-n-Cherish 