The Reservoir

A cool breeze drifted through the trees lining the pathway, their branches and leaves moving and whispering as dappled sunlight skipped along like fairies on the forest floor.  It was a perfect morning for a walk, and dog Madeline agreed.  I smiled, watching her run, her hindquarters just to the right of her front legs.  It's the hound in her.  There was a deep blue sky above us, the solid earth beneath our feet, and there to the left was the smooth as glass lake.  Reflections of the trees played on the water, as a gaggle of geese glided over the surface.  There were more than a dozen goslings, and 7 adults swimming there together.  A bullfrog was making his deep throated calls.  He sounded like a very big one.

As we walked I kept swiping away the invisible spider webs which were tickling my arms.  I wouldn't mind the webs so much if I knew the spiders were off someplace else.  But one never does. The other day there was a little black one on my arm standing on his back legs and rubbing his front ones together, as though preparing for a feast!  It looked diabolical.  I stopped to gaze at what looked like an extra thick thread of web, hanging from a tree.  Was there a spider at the end?  No, but it kind of hooked around.  After staring for a minute I finally figured out it was a piece of fishing line, left by some fisher person.

On the way back we took a detour near the water and I poked around, looking for Fred.  Fred was the name I gave the baby snapping turtle I rescued last fall from this wild household that bought my futon.  He was in a fishbowl and he looked awfully sad.  It was late fall, and I was unsure about what to do, and when to release the poor thing.  A Quaker friend was appalled that I had a snapping turtle in a terrarium at home.  She adamant that poor Fred be released.  I was in total agreement, but was not sure about the timing.  "It might be better to release him in the spring.  After all it's November."

Thank you PDphoto.org

"Oh it's plenty warm."  she said.  But I thought to myself, "are you an expert on turtles?  Do you know for sure he will be safe?"  I let him go, but regretted it later, certain he had been plucked up by some other animal.  He was probably too cold to dig into the mud.  It was still pretty warm...but I just didn't know.  Poor Fred.  I probably should have kept him until it really was warm again. 

Let me know if you hear from Fred.