Nature

"The world is full of creatures that for some reason seem stranger to us than others, and libraries are full of books describing them--hagfish, platypuses, lizardlike pangolins four feet long with bright green lapped scales like umbrella-tree leaves on a bush hut roof, butterflies emerging from anthills, spiderlings wafting through the air clutching tiny silken balloons, horseshoe crabs...the creator creates. Does he stoop, does he speak, does he save, succor, prevail? Maybe. But he creates; he creates everything and anything."

-- Annie Dilliard, Pilgram at Tinkers Creek

I enjoyed taking walks along the shore, along the banks, coast land, and the only road our town had. Most of the time, especially in the summer months, it’s quiet, vast, entrenched, and slow. The lakes were always calm along the single road that made up the seven or eight villages that were slung together. Einstein said “The human mind is not capable of grasping the universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library”, and as I think back to these times and agree. I see so little of nature, only bits and pieces, with life working it’s intricacies in the background.

One day on a trek along one of the small lakes that we boast are pure and clean; I hear a splash. Normally you heard birds chirping, the sound of the wind brushing against trees and leaves, the occasion call of an animal, but a splash was something different. As I look into the lake, I see a ripple, it’s small and I know that the object that made this splash couldn’t be that big. Then another splash makes me jump, as I peer out past the cloud of black flies in my vision, I see what’s finally happening. The trout are jumping out of the water to catch the mess of flies that have infested our neighborhood.

These beautifully flecked species, glinting in the lowering sun are making their way of the lake to feast, and unbeknownst to me, it was a common occurrence. Suddenly the whole lake is alive with splashes, clouds of flies hang over the puddles, and now I get it. Quoting Frank Lloyd Wright, I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.

Some of the happiest times in my life, and the most isolating, was when I made these treks around the small community I grew up in. I was surrounded by nothing and everything at the same time. There were days when I was hiking up the marsh only to find a litter of wild kittens, with their ferocious mother, crouched, knowing full well she has to fight for her kittens. All we see are domesticated cats; it’s rare to meet others who have seen such sights. Upon finding the cats, I ran back to my dad and told him and all he said was “leave them alone, let them find their own lives”. Sometimes it’s better to leave nature alone, let the life around us have free will. Who are we to takes these wild cats out of nature, the place where they belong.

Other times while swimming in Business Pond with my dog Reno and friends there would be beavers allowing along by our sides. My father would never scream at us and tell us to the leave the lake, he would only say don’t get to close. Even Reno, our dog, would be respectful of the animals. A beaver, I’m told, are found to be gentle; there is even an Indian word for “beaver-like” which means “affable”. Their tails would always crack the water and their stride was amazing. Even though they are a very dense creature they are able to rake through the water at a very surprising speed.

I miss Newfoundland.