Fight or flight
There, at the water’s edge, catching some sun was the snapping turtle that has moved into our pond. Another day while circling the pond I could see his/her head extended just above the surface. As I approached, the turtle pulled it rapidly under the water and slid back into a mud cave built safely below.
There are many creatures all along the way that perceive me as a threat, or at least believe that caution is a necessary defense. The sunfish position themselves in rays at about the same depth as the turtle’s fortress. When my shadow reaches them, I see them move gently back into deeper waters, tail first with their eyes on me.
Then there are the green frogs. They have become somewhat accustomed to my passing but still, on occasion, let out a loud scream and hop athletically from their perches at the water’s edge into the deep pool below.
The White-tailed deer linger farther back, unless munching gleefully on a newly opened day lily blossom or again taking off all the tops of the Jeruselum artichoke plants which shoot out more and more side shoots in response to this repeat and brutal assault. Bedding down in the grassy areas between the pond and the Canadice outlet, they often sense me before I see them and dash off toward the safety of the underbrush.
Several times while walking with my dogs, they have come across spotted fawns, left by their mothers in the center of a sanctuary of tall grasses. The fawns are often startled less than me, as they shoot up and off into the quagmire of multi-flora roses and Japanese honeysuckle that have invaded our woodlands. I am left wondering if the mothers returning to retrieve their young manage to reunite with them or if they linger there, wondering what has become of the offspring they left behind.
Some animals find ways of striking out rather than hiding or avoiding the ever-present threats, or when avoidance is impossible. Encountering a porcupine or skunk has resulted in costly repercussions for my canine companions. I recall the time Luna ran off in pursuit of a fleeing animal and retuned with a chin full of porcupine quills. Not one to let humans, including me, close to her when she was in pain, she nonetheless stood still on the trail, deep in a wooded area of Connecticut Hill, and let me pull the offending quills out one at a time.
The plants too have evolved ways of defending themselves from environmental factors that threaten their existence. I rode once bareback in shorts through a creek side patch of nettles, driving the stinging hairs deep under my skin. Poison ivies and oaks also have found a defense against humans. Their oil leaves many of us in days of discomfort while not bothering in the least other mammals. Dogs do not have a reaction and goats enjoy munching on their leaves.
As humans, our enemies are many although likely fewer than those we threaten – deliberately or inadvertently. Each day we face environmental and human-created threats that cause us, like the animals and plants in our midst to adapt and find new means of defense. I read earlier today about the continuing battle against AIDS, some hopeful outcomes and a few miracles obtained by earlier treatments. Recent heavy rains have again replenished the soil and the land around us, while also dragging asunder the landscape with its brutal force, as the sun moves closer to earth silently, incrementally transforming our transient existence and journey.
My encounters with foxes have been few, but I have always admired their character. When we have met during various outings, they have stood watching me cautiously with no malice, no intent to do harm as they wait to see what I will do. Seeing that there is no ill intent in my actions, they turn away – disappearing ghost-like into the surrounding landscape. I suspect that were they or their young threatened, they would fight back brutally, as would the snapper. They linger instead in the shadows, content to live their lives in a diplomatic manner, avoiding conflict, content.
D.E. Bentley
Editor, Owl Light News