|
Enjoying the great outdoors is a multi- sensory affair.
Everybody who has ever stood at the rim of the Grand Canyon, watched Old Faithful or strolled along the banks of the Mississippi River is well aware of nature's majestic sights.
The natural world would be spectacular enough if there was no more, but fortunately for us, there is so much more.
Nature comes equipped with its own perfumes -- springtime hikes are frequently enhanced by the gentle aroma of honeysuckle riding on the breeze. I remember quivering with the chill of early mornings, sitting in a canoe on Missouri Current River, just drinking in the earthy aroma of the running water.
And, the wonderful tastes, ranging from the delicate morel mushroom to the distinctive flavor of grilled trout. Put those two tastes together in the same meal, it's nearly not fair to your taste buds.
Furthermore, you can't overlook feel. Is there anything more refreshing than dipping your feet into a cool spring after a hot summer's walk? Is there anything more comforting than stroking the downy fur of a bunny? Is a down pillow any softer than resting your head on a mossy creek bank?
Then, there are the sounds.
My first experience with the glorious sounds of nature came at my uncle's feet when I was a twelve. We were in his Wisconsin cabin's yard one summer evening when he apparently heard a quail in the distance.
"Listen, Paddy" he said.
Then, he whistled, "Bob-white" loudly and distinctly.
I was filled with awe when not one, but several quail answered him. At that age, you're pretty sure your favorite uncle is just about the greatest person in the world and, talking to the animals, well, that pretty much cemented the idea.
An evening or two later, I was sitting in the yard and I decided to try it myself.
It was a feeble and somewhat awkward "Bob-white" I managed to whistle. However, my heart filled with pride when the air was suddenly filled with talkative quail. I couldn't wait to run into the house and tell my uncle that his nephew was the second coming of Daniel Boone.
I had pretty much forgotten about that memory until a recent fishing trip in rural Coles County with Tony. The fishing had been slow, the sun was setting and we were about to head for home.
Just before dark our ears were assaulted with a variety of sounds -- the honking of a Canada goose in the distance, the discordant squawking of cormorants in the tree behind us, the splashing of rough fish spawning in the weeds and the myriad sounds of songbirds filling their air with their sunset lullabies.
But, there was still another sound we couldn't figure out.
We sat there in the boat, listening to this strange grating sound. It was loud and close, but we couldn't place it.
Finally, Tony put two-and-two together. "It's beavers, Paddy", he said.
Our boat was floating atop an active beaver lodge and the sounds we were hearing were beaver gnawing on logs and twigs. That realization brought smiles to both our faces. We sat there a few more minutes, just listening as the western sky drained the final rays of the sun.
It didn't compare with the first interactive quail conversation, but it was close, and all the more special because the greatest guy in the world was there to share it.
:D
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
