Ten Thousand Years - Some Thoughts

10,000 Years

Lynn walked back from the pond and I could tell by the slump in her shoulders that a great sadness had fallen upon her. “The egg is gone” she said. “Something got it” – the egg was laid in a hollow of a knarled old tree three feet off the ground and Lynn had been midwife of the one egg of a pair of geese that had driven all others from the pond and spent their days together taking turns – watching, cradling life like two proud and fierce protectors of the new life they were creating. I walked over to the tree by the pond and sure enough the egg lay scattered at the tree bottom and across the path – bloody viscera still glistening on the broken shell. “The fox” she said. “The fox probably got the egg.” We walked back from the pond and her hand lightly and briefly touched mine and I knew in that moment I had been touched by Hera, The Goddess, the great Mother, the source of life and creativity and my walled up maleness had a light break through the crevices of my intellectual walls and I was so moved and so gratified I could not speak – even though she walked quietly beside me.

Several days later I saw the fox – graceful, head up, tail straight out, gliding over the green and brown grass, its winter fur still mottled. Its form fell behind a rise and I saw only a glimpse as she slipped into the foliage. “So that’s the fox my wife has been talking about – and not too friendly, either.” That fox had taken her egg. A couple of weeks went by and all of a sudden we saw three foxes, the mother and two kits busily frolicking in the meadow like grass that passes for our lawn. I thought to myself that fox family has been here 10,000 years. They shed their winter fur, ate goose eggs and have been here since when the southern tips of the last Ice Age glacier was only ninety miles north. The geese were here also, proudly, loudly and fiercely protective – the reason for their existence.

We have here in our wooded space turkey and rabbits and woodchucks and deer and herons and weasels and blue jays and hummingbirds and cardinals and squirrels and they all have been here 10,000 years. There used to be twenty turkeys, but suddenly there were only two, and we thought – Hunters! We soon discovered why there were only two. Because one day following them, the male out in front and the female leading them, there were a dozen small furry, flapping, stumbling, fledgling turkeys. Life abounding. We watched them as they made their rounds and noticed one day there were only nine– not twelve. Then, just recently, we could count only five. The parents still majestic and strutting.

I reflected on the wonder of life and its continuity, its ebb and flow, its birth and death, its persistent resilience. As I felt the privilege and gratitude of witnessing just a small piece of the journey, I was caught up in a sense of peace and comfort, knowing that I and we, are part of the great sojourn – and here since the ice stopped only ninety miles away.

PKB, July 2008