Off we go down the lane, Suzie, Riley, (my two golden retrievers), and I. I give a few final pats to our adopted cats, Yeller, Squeaky, and Tigger, and then quickly hustle away so that they don’t follow us. Turning around I see that they have finally halted their pursuit. There they sit at the end of the lane wailing, as if they will never see us again. Each morning it is the same. After several years, have they not yet learned we will return?
Every day is an adventure. Where will our travels take us today? We pass by the field that in the night a pack of coyotes woke us all from our sleep as they eerily cried into the night. Where are you now, dear coyotes? As we pass by the field and peer among the trees, there is not a trace that just a few short hours ago this space was yours.
Way in the distance a beautiful pink hue promises that the sun will soon arise. There’s not a cloud in the sky except for a few light purple wisps off to the left and the smiling half moon off to the right. Even the stars, one by one, fade from the sky in preparation for the majestic sunrise.
Far behind us on the country road I can hear the roar of the school bus heading our way. Little did I know that the school bus would define our path for today. I quickly hop off to the left into the field adjacent to our property to ensure that “the girls” are not in the path of the bus. As I wave to the driver with her empty bus, I ponder about the children who will soon fill it, reminiscing the untold hours I spent on the bus in my youth.
Suddenly it occurs to me, oh no, here we are on the corner lot, the one that just a week ago was filled with trees and birds singing high in the rafters of their branches. Now all that remains are the wide muddy tracks that belong to the bulldozers who had their way with the foliage. I reach down to gently touch the small pines, smashed to the ground, some with a few strands still connected to their roots. I wince and wonder, what good can come of this destruction? In the most recent months I have been working to see the perfection that is in everything. This morning I am blind and cannot see through the fog that hides the perfection from me. As we make our way over the grounds, I wince as we walk over stubbles that once were trees.
Ahh, and now I am standing on the spot that once was the resting place of the coyote we met a few months ago in the dead of winter. The girls and I had rounded the corner, barely able to see the road in the darkness. Off in the distance I spotted a large animal. Was it a small deer? No, I think it is a coyote. Not to worry, coyotes always run when they see us coming. However, on this morning, the coyote stopped, looked at me, and then lay in the tall grass. I kept advancing, thinking surely he would take flight. The girls now spotted him, and he did not run. Now the hair started to stand straight up all over my body, and I decided to retreat as quickly as I could, frantically calling to the girls to follow me.
We returned home and waited a little while for the dawn to give us more light. Away we went again. Why was I so determined to take this path today? As we rounded the corner, there in the tall weeds remained the animal. This time we went back home and I called the DNR, Department of Natural Resources. They were not interested in my information…”probably just a coyote who has distemper or got ahold of some bad deer carcasses. Just let Nature have its way with him.”
Once again I set out to be with the coyote, but this time from the safety of my car. The poor thing. He was obviously ill. He tried to retreat, but was too weak or too sick to move. I sat with him the longest time, looking into his eyes, quickly replacing my fear with compassion for the pain he was experiencing. There I sat until I could sit no longer because of an appointment I had to keep. When I returned, he was gone. The only thing that remained was the small space of weeds pressed down to the earth where he had rested his weary body.
I suddenly find myself coming back to this moment, and I realize that this space will no longer be the resting place for the wild animals. I become aware that the air is filled with the essence of the burning pile that still is smouldering, even after 4 days. All that remains of the trees is the burning waft and a mound of black residue. Oh, God, please help me understand the perfection in what seems to be the reckless destruction of Mother Nature. Mark Twain’s quote gives me some comfort, “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”
We cross the field and the birds snap me back to the beauty of this moment. I am so focused on the birds singing, listening for each different sound, that I didn’t see the bunny rabbit running straight towards me. I felt the breeze on my legs as he ran right in front of me, fleeing from Suzie who had disturbed his morning adventure. Just then I notice the bright orange ball slowing arising through the naked tree branches…and off in the distance I can hear the return of the school bus. In my mind’s eye I see the children on the bus and wonder, are they looking out the windows? Are they spying the beauty all around them? Might there be one or two children on the bus who will one day remember the beauty they saw in their youth and build a career to in some way preserve Nature…so that the birds have a place to sing and the coyotes have a place to rest?
