It seemed like no one lived here over the long frigid months of Winter—the ice and feet of snow covered the moving, living, reflecting body of water. I know for certain there were frogs of various sorts, turtles with their colorful, hard-shelled homes carried on their backs, crayfish, and densely-furred, rat-tailed muskrats buried under mud and stick homes in hibernation mode. Life was here, but like the trees and so many things in Nature, it was dormant. Awaiting Spring.
Anxious to find a temporary home, perhaps a place to build a nest, mate, lay a clutch of eggs, and raise a feathered family, migrating waterfowl found this little lake. It seemed desirable, even with the ice still covering large portions of the water. Small, thin-billed Hooded Mergansers with fan-shaped, collapsible crests courted the few females with their elegant plumage and royal carriage.
A pair of Mallards, clumsy and large compared to the Mergansers, trooped across the ice and dipped into a frigid pool that opened like a dark streak in the white frozenness. Despite their clumsiness, there are so many things I appreciate about the Mallards—the male’s iridescent green head, the curled tail feathers, and the sturdy, orange legs and webbed feet.
I wonder what it was about this place that enticed these ducks and geese to stop, to rest, and to explore. It is a quiet place beside a dead-end road, surrounded by beautiful Birch and Oak trees. It has vines of Bittersweet and petite shrubs of Wild Roses.
All seemed content in the awakening homeplace except for one Canadian goose. He/she seemed to be the sentry, the one on guard, the eyes and ears of the group. The Sentry squawked in alarm and nervously swam towards the others as I walked closer. The others gave no cares at all as they swam through the reeds and dipped their heads under water to pull up a tasty green shoot.
The Sentry scrambled onto the ice, perhaps for a better vantage point. He paced back and forth, talking, scolding, watching, and worrying.
Is this the place to make a summer home? To raise a family? Are there hidden dangers?
It pays to be watchful, to know the signs of danger, particularly if one is susceptible, like to the potent berries of Poison Ivy that seem benign without the triad of shiny green leaves seen in summer.
Finally the Sentry slipped back into the water and was joined by the other geese, and calm returned to the swimmers. My presence no longer seemed like a threat. Maybe this is a good place. Perhaps Spring is leading us to where we need to go. There is hope in the Willows.
There are parts of most of us in the North that hibernate in the dark, cold, snowy months of Winter. Some whose internal lights shine strong with abundant energy and youthful vigor can move through Winter just as they do the rest of the year. They are beacons to the rest of us. Otherwise, the shift that occurs in Spring ignites a dormant flame, compelling us to move towards an awakening of sorts. Like the ducks and geese, the hibernating creatures under the mud, and the trees and plants all around, energy is quickened. Daylight and warmer temperatures turn on genetic programming and instincts. It’s time to find a summer home, to mate, to raise a family. We need the sentries of the world to be watchful, to keep the others safe, to protect those who do not know or see the dangers that may be lurking around us. And then we move in the living, reflecting, motioning water towards the soft willow flowers of a hopeful Spring.
Leave a Reply