Serenity

The beaver pond is quiet and still as I approach it from the east on this unusually warm day for northern New York in November.  There are no ripples on the water attesting to the lack of wind on such a beautiful afternoon.  I shut off the engine of my ATV the better to attune with the solitude and serenity of this, one of my favorite places.

As I sit contemplating nothing in particular, but all sorts of things in general, a small late flock of geese fly nearly overhead going in a northerly direction, not at all worried that south is a better direction to go at this time of year.  I know it is a temporary flight as they are headed toward the big river, the mighty St. Lawrence, only a couple of miles distant.  From their vantage point they can see it, even if I can’t.  As always the constant honking announces their presence long before I spot them coming over the tree tops.

A dragonfly of some type, all I know is it is red, settles ever so gently on my left arm.  Only it knows why it picked this spot to rest its weary muscles.  After a minute it lifts as casually into flight as it had ceased flying a few moments before.  I wish it a speedy journey to wherever it happens to be going.

Turtles and frogs have apparently all buried themselves in the mud bottom of the pond, at least there is no sign of their presence on this occasion.  Bucky and Eager Beaver do not care to join me in my reverie either.  It has been nearly a month since I have spotted them, but I feel they are still alive and well in their chosen pool.  The dam is intact and not apparently leaking, or otherwise showing a lack of attention.

Across the roadway, in a separate pond, a part of the larger pond in the past, lives at least one other beaver, I suspect an offspring of Bucky and Eager.  I managed some photos of it two or three weeks ago.

In yet another farm ditch two or three hundred yards away, another beaver, probably another kit of Bucky and Eager, has dammed off an outlet, and are starting a new colony.  This pond is maybe 25 feet wide and a couple of hundred yards long.  Although I’ve seen the occupant, I’ve been unable to photograph it.

As the sun continues to pass its gentle warmth I find myself getting sleepy, and decide it is time to seek a comfortable sofa for a nap.  What I can’t see, maybe I can dream of.