Forest and Tree

In the last several days, a number of folks have posted to our community email system about their sightings of large rattlesnakes on roads, paths, and lawns. Caution, everyone advises; it's that time of year.

I wonder how many snakes we all walk right by without ever seeing them. At least, rattlesnakes give crackling warning: Leave me alone!

I could be more cautious in my own ambles, as I sometimes miss the forest for the trees or the trees for the forest.

Today, concentrating on the ground and ground cover as I headed down to the boat launch area at Lake Dimmick, a loud fluttering and splashing of water startled me. I had startled her -- a wood duck -- and her brood. She took off in one direction, almost flying but in the water, and they paddled in another. The whole time she called out oo-eek, oo-eek in alarm to her ducklings: hide, get out of here! Clever that she distracted me with her wheeling swim and racket, while the little ones quietly moved toward a large limb licking the lake.

As for me, I turned and walked slowly back up the hill, feeling a bit guilty for not seeing them first, hoping they'd find one another once I was gone.

Later, at the small pond further up the road, I was so busy sneaking up on one of the two sunning Unicorn Clubtails that I nearly walked into the only up-close Carolina Saddlebags in tandem that I've ever seen. In the bare branches where I've watched Amber-winged Spreadwings, Slaty Skimmers, Spangled Skimmers, and Blue Dashers, there they were: the male clasping the female, both pausing long enough (to catch their balance? their breath?) for me to snap several pictures. Previously, I've seen them when yoked flying fast over water, dipping low, so she could separate and tap the water and then so he could grab her and go again.

Looking is hard, and remains hard even with experience, especially because astonishment everywhere awaits notice.