A Window into Wild Places

After sitting all day in an air-conditioned office and then yanking weeds out of the garden, I like to take my dirt-creased hands to the lake. Cool water drips down my forearms as the paddle dips in and out of silken ripples. A full pontoon boat blaring dance music cuts a wake down the channel, so I stick to the shore where life is less disturbed. Nature soothes my busy brain with soft fascination.

Eastern kingbirds twitter as they dart across a narrows. There’s a buzzy quality to their calls that imitates the large insects on which these flycatchers feast. Kings indeed: their black backs, white underparts, and white-tipped tails suggest formal attire. They punch above their weight—attacking much larger birds such as hawks, herons, and crows, plus any other kingbirds who come too close to their nest. Winter mellows them out. They migrate to the Amazon and spend the winter eating fruit and hanging out in flocks. After a day filled with people, I contemplate the benefits of a bimodal lifestyle from my solo kayak.

Water-shield leaves part for the kayak’s bow. I dip my hand to rub the underside of one oval leaf. The slippery, jelly-like coating feels cool to the touch and protects the plant from grazing snails and potential pathogens. An intricate pattern of squiggly, stained-glass lines etched into the leaf hints at the persistence of other dangers, though. These are the feeding channels of tiny midge larvae who slice a strip off the leaf’s upper surface, scrape off the good parts, and then fashion the skin into a bed canopy. After a week, a larva spins a chrysalis out of silk and metamorphoses into a tiny flying smudge. The rest is a mystery. Scientists don’t seem to know where they lay their eggs or spend their early childhood. Finding the small end of one channel, I follow their ever-widening path around the leaf while imagining the larva who created it growing bigger too.

White water lily leaves float like big green Pac-Man cartoons in an adjacent patch. Hiding among the leaves are several swelling flower buds. Their pointed tips poking above the black water remind me of how turtles look when they periscope for danger. One bud has burst, and a bouquet of white petals bobs in my wake. From afar, the petals are pure and perfect, hoping to attract pollinators, but up close, they are riddled with holes. The long-antennaed beetles with shining copper wing casings who crawl through this small castle are my prime suspects. On their bellies, a layer of hair repels water. Among the leaves, a water lily’s rhizome has floated to the surface. This horizontal, root-like stem is where water lilies squirrel away extra carbohydrates. Oval brown scars where old leaves have sprouted and then fallen off create a pattern on the creamy white surface. Muskrats and moose are known to seek out these salt- and sugar-rich delicacies. I consume only their loveliness.

Ospreys chirp the alarm while perched on their nest platform overlooking the bay. The duo returned from separate tropical vacations when the lake was still half-iced over. Although they may not see each other all winter, osprey pairs return year after year to the same place and the same partner. Males bring more sticks to the nest each spring. They also bring fish snacks and take turns incubating during the day. But for all of the 37 nights it takes for the eggs to hatch, Mom is the one who sits tight. I wonder if she gets impatient while waiting for signs of life? For the first time this summer, two small heads are wobbling above the rim while Mom or Dad tears pieces off a hidden fish. Like the midge larva, osprey chicks grow quickly. In just eight to ten weeks, they’ll balloon from two ounces to two pounds or more and be ready to take their first flight. The nest remains their home base until they migrate in September.

A white-tailed deer sloshes in the shady shallows with a tangle of green leaves dripping from her mouth. Deer seek aquatic vegetation in the summer for the same reasons as their larger cousins, the moose. The doe will chew only as much as necessary to swallow, eating rapidly while exposed. Then she’ll masticate her cud more fully in the safety of some secret place. Deer ears rotate like little satellite dishes to capture faint sounds. Danger! With a snort, she whips around and disappears into the thicket. Does only spend a few hours each day with their fawns when their little legs are too weak to escape predators. Their milk is richer in fat and protein than cow’s milk, so well-fed fawns double their weight and their chances of survival in just two weeks.

Summer provides a brief window of warmth and plenty in which Beings race to raise their young. Not all of them make it. The world would be overrun if they did. My to-do list seems to function on the same philosophy, with not all tasks making it through the gauntlet to completion. Even so, I’m always happier when I make time for a sunset paddle.