The World Outside Me

Once many years ago I was hiking in a forest preserve, and caught sight of a raccoon halfway up a tree, his head reaching into a hole in the tree, and some sort of animal screaming coming out. I couldn’t tell what was going on, whether the coon was screaming or he had cornered some sort of other creature. I never did learn, but that doesn’t matter much. The real lesson I learned was that there’s a whole world going on outside my human coccoon, and unless one pays attention it slips by and away without notice.

If I didn't look I wouldn't have seen. No loss to the world itself, but a loss to our human experience, at least to mine. Since then I’ve resolved to pay more attention to things that might otherwise slide away. Fortunately, lately, I’ve been able to make some time. Like this morning.


First thing I noted was one of the younger rabbits (we seem to have a pair hanging around, slowly devouring the hostas) - still wearing the white blaze on their forehead, a sign of youth -- sitting at the backdoor, hoping I would toss out a bit of breakfast snack, consisting of left-over lovebird food. Funny how the rabbits seem to pass that learning along -- a grownup once had enough courage to venture close, then the watching little ones realized it’s both safe and rewarding to hang around. Because cottontails only live a couple years, we’re talking generations here. My daughter was beginning high school when the first became our breakfast buddy, now daughter’s wrapping up college. That’s probably three, maybe four, generations of rabbits.


Just now a goldfinch ventured close, but dashed off before I could switch my cell phone to camera mode. That’s one of the fascinating things about birds: the brightly colored ones, goldfinches, cardinals, and bluebirds, seem like they should be easily visible against the green and blue background, but their appearances seem so rare. Not sure how that works. I suppose it’s a matter of not looking carefully enough.


Stepping outside this morning I noticed what a busy world it is out here if one pays attention. Besides the rabbit, a couple chipmunks scurried about, one dashing for cover when I got too close, and taunting me from his hideout with a loud chirp; I remember once, years ago, I didn’t know they chirped and thought that the sound I heard was a tree brushing against a power line and almost called the power company. Typical case of jumping to a false conclusion based on a false presumption.


Other sounds include the oversized chirping of an annoyed male wren -- he’s one of those creatures who seem always to be annoyed. I remember when I first began paying attention them, I thought they were lovely little birds, and they can warble sweetly. Now I know that was a false front. They can be nasty. One time our daughter was testing her new fishing pole in the back yard, making short casts with a small weight attached, then reeling it in; as the weight pulled through the grass a wren apparently concluded it was some sort of small insect, and kept trying to grab it; boy was he annoyed when he caught it. Another case of false-conclusion-jumping. I also hear the steady liquid churling of a robin, and, right now, the very loud annoyed chirping by a chipmunk in the lawn next door, though I’m innocent this time.


And so goes this outside world. Today is a classic midwest summer morning, Nearly cloudless brilliant blue sky, all sorts of greenery, the lilies just beginning to bloom, a soft breeze, and the good fortune of a screened porch to keep those nasty and numerous mosquitoes at bay. I love this luxury of time, a pause on my journey from mystery to mystery, though the human world is calling me with some responsibilities. And so, reluctantly, I temporarily bid adieu to this wonderful world out here.

I plan to be back, God willing and the creek don't rise.