All Creatures Great and Small

 

“… no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.” Albert Camus

This has been a month for nature’s wilderness creatures to come visiting. A few weeks ago I mentioned birds flocking to bird-baths; the other day a deer and her fawn strolled past the house with nary a care in the world; last Sunday I found a couple of raccoons wrestling around out in the backyard “big as life.”

Now, none of these incidents would be all that unusual for folks in Madison County. I recall a moose waltzing up to the house to graze on a bit of spruce out front while its calf nibbled on other trees out back. Wild life always amazes me; I never tire of seeing creatures that “belong out in the wilderness” wandering about town. 

Here, though, wildlife tends to be fairly scarce. I live in the middle of a small city. Oh sure, Mount Baker and the North Cascades aren’t that far away; there are undeveloped parcels and some wetlands within a stone’s throw of the house. But still, I find it all rather thrilling and hope to heaven I never lose that sense of wonderment when animals come a’calling.

No matter how many generations separate me from Adam and Eve, I still feel a special kindred with nature – with all creatures great and small. I suppose I could do without the viruses that afflict us (especially this nasty Covid-19 variety that’s got us all flummoxed), but even they have their place. As my Dad said, “If everyone was healthy all the time, they’d complain about losing all their sick-leave when they retired!”

I must admit I don’t think about nature all that much, so when I do see something out of the ordinary, like raccoons wrestling out back, I sit up and take notice. If I’ve got my thinking cap on (boy, that’s a term I don’t think I’ve heard or used in decades), I’ll run, grab my camera, and try to snap a few pictures before they disappear. Most critters have a knack for vanishing when I run for my Instamatic (which is actually a phone and not a camera, or vice versa), so I was pleasantly surprised when the ‘coons stuck around.

I don’t know why I wanted to take their pictures. I suppose that if I had gone out and asked them to stand still they would have made tracks for the fence, hole, or some other point of egress. But they continued playing while I stayed in the house, and I snapped a couple photos to post online and a minute or two of video for posterity. Their antics brightened up an otherwise dull day.

I know there’s a lot that goes on when I’m not watching. Thinking about those few creatures I have seen over the past few weeks suggests there are many more out there fending for themselves – and mostly without much help or attention from me. I’ve avoided putting out bird feed or other food, mostly because our area is so rich with nutritional resources that such efforts would be counter-productive. Birds and animals need to learn to make their way in life and, judging from their girths, I think they’ve been amply successful.

As I meditate on all these little things, I am reminded that while we humans tend to think nature belongs “out there” somewhere, and our turf is defined by silly lines we draw on paper (keeping surveyors and tax-collectors in business), the world really knows no bounds. Deer and squirrels and skunks go where they want to; spiders build their webs to catch prey, and viruses hitch rides upon drops of vapor to make their way person to person like in the days of old time long distance calling. 

Why we humans think we’re masters of anything is beyond me. Sometime in the next few years – or a decade or two – I’ll be feeding the worms, and that’s OK, for in the words of that old rascal, Job, “I know my redeemer lives.” 

I expect He’ll look out his window one day, see me wrestling with my siblings, and yell to Jesus to go grab his camera. That’s a picture of heaven here in this, our valley.