Today at the Pond, 10-12-11

Today, when I went to feed Elvis, something magical happened. It was a really incredible moment in nature, and I have to share this one in words.

I got to the pond about 5:30, parked the car, and walked the little path to where Elvis and I have been meeting. He has not been eating as much bread lately, but he always eats a couple of pieces, and the turtles and perch enjoy the rest. We had a nice rain this afternoon.  Well, I say nice.  It rained, that’s the big thing.  It was just one brief shower, but after a summer when I can remember all the specific dates it rained, any brief shower is welcome.

It was still raining when I got to the pond and I can’t take the camera down to Elvis when it’s raining. I don’t mind getting wet, but I love my camera. This is why I did not visually record what happened.  Elvis parallels me in the water as I follow the path through the woods, and while I climb down the bank, he moves in closer.  Today was so pretty after it rained.  It was just sprinkling by the time I got to him.  The sun was peeking through to the west, and I kept looking back east to see if there was a rainbow. The rain passed and the surface of the pond was as pristine as window glass.  Elvis actually came up on the bank, flapping his wings for me within three feet of where I was standing. He is always less threatened when I’m down low, so I just sat down in the wet grass and hand fed him tonight. That’s the first time in ages I’ve gotten to do that.

After 2-3 pieces, he’d had enough and headed out. The entire time I’m feeding him, of course, the turtles and the perch are swarming around the extra pieces I throw out to keep them away from Elvis. Elvis swam through them, scattering the perch in a thousand different directions. One zipped across the water for a good 12-15 feet before finally submerging! I like watching Elvis swim across that mirror of the pond, watching the V of his wake spreading across the whole pond, so I stayed there watching him until he got to the island.  While I was paying attention to him, I did not notice that the waters around me had calmed, and I could see through to the bottom of the pond. I watched the perch swimming through, and several huge soft-shelled turtles and red-eared sliders came up on the mud in front of me to get Elvis’ scraps.  It’s amazing to see these wild animals so close.  Normally turtles scatter when any human approaches.  I scarcely breathed while I watched them.  I knew if I made the slightest motion they would scatter, muddying the water and ending the show.  As usual, the turtles were snapping at each other, and fighting over the small scraps of bread.  They can be very entertaining, especially to a nature-loving geek like myself.

As I was watching the turtles, the perch, and the big bass slapping their tails on the water, something caught the corner of my eye. As I looked to my right, I saw the year-round resident American coot sidling up on my right.  He was less than 20 feet away when I noticed him. I’ve been thinking for a couple of weeks now that he’s been feeding on Elvis’ leftovers along with everybody else.  Several times, I’ve gotten him on video within 50-100 feet of where I was standing.  I sat there like a statue:  on the wet grass, with those funny little grass bugs crawling all over my already itchy psoriasis legs.  I dared not move.  Had I brushed aside a hair, scratched an itch, or heaven forbid, sneezed, the coot would have taken off running across the water.  I scarcely breathed as he came, closer, closer, closer.  He was much smaller up close than I thought he would be, bigger than the pied-billed grebe he hangs out with, like the size of a wood duck but smaller than a teal.  He is about one-third Elvis’ size, but Elvis is an anomaly anyway.  As I was watching the coot, moving only my eyes, I glanced out and about 15 feet out from the shoreline was the pied-billed grebe that keeps this coot company.  The grebe likes to move in on the perch after I feed Elvis.  All I’ve ever seen the coot eat is vegetation; all I’ve seen the grebe eat is fish.  They make a good pair of companions and are never far apart.  The grebe glided over the water closer to me, cautiously aware of me and unsure if it was safe to come close.

I didn’t move a muscle or make a sound.  The grebe has NEVER come close to me.  I just watched as both these birds glided nearer.  The coot pecked at Elvis’ leftovers, while the grebe dived within five feet of me, resurfacing right beside the coot, swirling in circles as he swallowed the perch he caught.  Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better nature-geek wise, across this mirror of the pond, the great egret that lives at the pond sailed over the water, his reflection flying along the surface.  He landed about 50 feet down the bank from the rest of us and began hunting for his dinner along the moss beds.

The whole time I’m watching this incredibly display of nature, everything is backlit by this huge gorgeous Texas sky, filled with pink and blue and purple clouds moving out after the rain. As I look out toward the VFW building, the sky is dark and I can see the showers still falling toward the south.  Toward the east, the sky has cleared and taken on that golden magic light of twilight that we photographers chase every day.  Toward the west, the setting sun has lit the clouds in all the colors of life, demonstrating God’s beauty in all its glory.  Behind me are the woods, which are a thin strip between the pond and the nearby road.  Although I can hear cars moving on the road behind me, I sit, in this quiet, peaceful place, surrounded by amazing natural beauty.  I felt like God was sharing a special secret with me. 

I wish I could have recorded all of this on video; it really was an amazing visual experience.  But on 10/12/11, “Today at the Pond” exists only in my memory.  I don’t feel my words even come close to describing the experience.

Eventually, everything beautiful ends.....the egret ate a perch and moved across the pond to his usual hunting spot.  The grebe, full from his dinner, glided back to the island, most likely to prepare for his evening roost.  Elvis spotted the coot close to me hastily swam over from the island.  Sometimes, Elvis can be a bit of a tyrant.  He used to peck at Ducky sometimes when he thought Ducky as stealing his bread, and today he swam between me and the coot.  He didn’t peck the coot, he just pecked toward him, warning the coot off.  The coot swam on down the shoreline, away from me.  Once he reestablished his dominance, Elvis returned to the island.  Bread gone, the perch and turtles retreated to the depths of the pond. 

I got up, chastising myself for my now-soaked butt, and took one last look around.  I thank God every day for the pond; it is a very special place to me, not just because of Elvis, but because I really am a total true nature nut, and I have seen things there I might never have seen, and it’s all within 15 minutes of my home.  That place is a true heavenly gift to me; I am eternally grateful for it.  Tonight was particularly beautiful, and I am especially grateful.  Thank you, Lord!


FOOTNOTE: 

A little background on these four birds:  Elvis, the American coot, the great egret, and the pied-billed grebe.  In the winter, there are normally 8-10 grebes and 8-10 coots living at the pond. After this summer and the drought, with so little water and food, I don’t know what will happen this winter.  But normally, they divide into two groups, and chase each other off their personal turf whenever necessary.  When late spring comes, the other grebes and coots disappear and only one of each species remain.  I always wondered why only these singles stayed year-round.  This summer, I realized one of the coot’s wings is about six inches shorter than the other.  I’ve never seen this coot fly, and I’m assuming he can’t.  I don’t know how he got the short wing, I don’t know if my assumption is correct, and I don’t even know if this is the same coot I’ve been watching for the past four years.  All I know is there is only ever one coot, only one grebe, and only one great egret that stay at the pond year-round.  These three birds, along with Elvis, are constant residents.  The egret is alone because he chases all the other egrets off.  Elvis is alone because he is Elvis and the only semi-domesticated Muscovy that’s ever shown up there.  Elvis is a very capable flier; he just keeps coming back because he wants to, I guess.  There have been a few times when he disappeared for a few days, but so far, he’s always come back.  I don’t know why the one grebe is always there, but I have to guess it is because he cannot fly.  I’ve never seen this single grebe fly, but unlike the coot, I’ve not seen any particular handicap that might explain why he doesn’t.  In time, I may eventually find out why, and I may not.  Some day, I know, Elvis will disappear too, and I may never know what happened to him.  Part of the intrigue of watching nature is seeing things you never know the reasons for.  Nature is a wonder.  That’s what keeps me watching.