Thursday, November 30, 2006
I read a lovely poem the other day to my husband. It was about a duck sitting peacefully in the middle of a calm lake while the sun set. So peaceful. So serene. My husband raised one eyebrow. "The duck's probably sitting there because if it gets too close to the reeds a coyote or fox will finish it off". My husband. Always the pragmatist. And the trouble is he's turned me into one as well. I used to have a romantic notion about nature and life. As a city girl transplanted to the country I used to see a deer and get excited, now I watch it with a wary eye to make sure the dumb thing doesn't suddenly decide to spin around, jump the fence and hit my vehicle. Which has happened. Too many times. I used to love the sound of coyotes serenading us at night. Until they started eating my chickens and luring my dog into the bush and attacking it. And then there's squirrels. So cute. So fun to watch. Until they chewed a hole in the screen of my kitchen and promptly chewed a chunk out of ten loaves of home made bread cooling on the counter, made merry in the house pooping as they went knocking down ornaments and dragging sundry items to sundry places. Me and the squirrels are now at war. Me and nature have a different understanding now. And while I can still enjoy a sunset, appreciate the changing seasons, revel in a long walk outdoors, I know that deep in the bushes are the coyotes and the deer and the squirrels. And they are watching me.