Shortly later, the heron took a couple of sips of water and began a deliberate, step-by-step walk some 10-12 feet to another area where I could tell that it had hunched down, slipped out of my sight, but was still there. With the heron, frog inside, out of sight, my attention was diverted by a lone Sandpiper that had showed up and taken cover behind a bent, last-year’s cattail stalk. I guess it was hunting too but nothing happened while I watched. Nearby were a couple of Snapping Turtles, taking the afternoon sun atop a Muskrat lodge.
Reflections
With not much action happening, my eye also wandered to a number of other frogs scattered around the pool, all absolutely still, watching. And my mind began to play over what I had just seen. The more I wandered over those memories, the more different dimensions they began to take on for me. My first encounter had been reflexive, then interest, then the dawning understanding of the drama of what I was seeing. The frog apparently understood the threat and was fighting for its life. The bird was fixated, intent on the meal it was about to consume. And I? I was watching in fascination at this life and death struggle. It was 2,000+ years ago and I was in the Coliseum. Not lion and slave, but heron and frog – a vastly different scale, but no less primordial.
In the days since, my mind frequently darts back to this place or into dark corners or embarrassing profundities that are known to everyone but in the moment felt fresh. I don’t think it is any more or any less than the fleeting awareness we all have of our own mortality. It doesn’t really mean that much. After all, it was just a frog . . .
But it’s Complicated
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