The lake today breathed a joyful sigh of peace before spring break arrives, next week, to slosh her with boat fuel, beer and music. Polly and I stood thigh-deep in the cold water, prattling about this and that, while Atticus and Ford rollicked on and off the diving platform. Chas and Tabitha teetered chest-high in the wakes from the occasional ski boats, the water slapped playfully against the banks and the youngsters, who didn’t seem the least appalled. What I thought was a minnow and then maybe a tadpole turned out to be a mayfly larva, swimming like a snake an inch below the surface. As I lifted it out of the water atop my palm, it walked along walked along my hand with surprisingly deft strength against the water’s surface tension. In order to take a closer look, Ford did something I cannot do anymore: he lifted the insect between his fingers and carried it away.
Most children enjoy letting slugs wander across their arms, caterpillars creep over fingers. Dad brought a jar of grasshoppers for the kids to play with last summer. Chas sat and picked them, one by one, out of the jar, letting them crawl all over himself. When I was Ford’s age, I remember picking up insects in this matter-of-fact way. I had Stag beetles, tarantulas, and pet grasshoppers, large, shiny red-on-black grasshoppers that I kept in mason jars. And then one day, I picked up an earthworm. It was cool, pinkish-brown and very long. I wondered at it’s sleekness, imagining that it could stretch to great lengths if it wanted to. So I pulled it gently between my fingers until it cracked in two places, exposing its tragic red insides to me. I remember dropping it, as I have seen Ford abandon his kill, only I felt sick. I still feel sick. I wonder what Ford feels, when his fingers erase another small life. Lifting him over the bank, as we were leaving, I noticed a very small gossamer wing on his arm.
(Sigh.) The mayfly?
It is midnight in early March, and I’m hearing what I can’t bring myself to believe: a mockingbird serenading outside on the telephone pole.
First–have you read MY FAMILY & OTHER ANIMALS by Gerald Durrel? You simply must if you have not–it’s one of my favorite books (my mom first read it aloud to me when I was 10 or so) from childhood–and full of that naturalist curiosity and insects.
I’m like that too now–I can’t, without uneasiness, just pick a big beetle up anymore, although I did—and remember the sadness of harming one. I remember my sister showing me how a butterfly would die when the tiny hairs on its wings were removed, and how a caterpillar needed all its little fur to survive. These little creatures are so delicate–I applaud you for allowing your kids to be curious without projecting your feelings onto their experience.
And I’m more than a little bit jealous reading about lake swimming in MARCH!
What a wonderful site! I love it– so glad you stopped by– I’ll be back for sure.
I LOVE this photo. Reading the list of bugs and critters you allowed to crawl all over you as a kid, I suddenly remembered how much I loved to catch ladybugs in the backyard and let them walk all over my hands and arms. Nature just knocks me out.
Remember when we were young and tore the wings off butterflies and cruelty was no name for the act of destroying in wonder? xxx, mom
Forget that Chas has large bugs crawling on him, get a load of those ROLLS! I could just eat him up! Too, too cute!
we don’t have mockingbirds, i’ve always wanted to know what they sound like!
Mockingbirds are so talented and professional, they can imitate the song of any bird and will craft long sollilquies into the night, hardly stopping for air. Their range is incredible. They are our state bird. I could write on and on about them, maybe I will sometime 🙂
ME–don’t forget, Chas is six months older now, so most of that fat has vaprized in his contrail. Wait, that sounded gross. But you get the point. right? 🙂
Christina. I’m baffled with this weather. The wildflowers are (according to dad) two months early this year. I’m afraid of summer. It’s sitting on lurch like a vulture on the horizon. Lurch. isn’t that from Dr. Seuss or something? It’s late…
What a wonderful picture and meditation. Oh, I have these worries all the time, and I’m afraid I get overly strident when children are damaging living creatures. Mary 🙂