SCUDDER POND

SCUDDER POND keeps her secrets well hidden. This is one such: Beaver lurks beneath the surface, and mom has been able to commune with him when she can  remain silent, unmoving, imbued with faithful patience and detachment.  A meditation on waiting.

So, it's not like an everyday thing...

We're not talking about our very own Bear the BeaverPig, either: Real Beaver - his big, brown, furry head gliding half submerged, his round, flat tail running like a silent submarine just beneath the surface, stopping beneath the cover of cattails to methodically chew them in half...
then dining on the thick stalks or covertly transporting them to buttress his winter-torn lodge, giving soft beaver pups a safe, sturdy home...

Some people like Polar Bears, Tigers, and Elephants.

We love Beavers. We especially love our own Bear the Beaver Pig!

And we love Scudder Pond when she allows mortals a glimpse into the mystical
circle of life she secretly births spring after spring: Renewal! No matter the harshness
of winters past. The eagles return carrying long, budding branches in sharp talons across the pond up into "their" cottonwood tree. Their nest always needs mending after all winter's windstorms.

We sit on mom's lap, staring half awake through the window when, suddenly, an eagle flies by with sticks and branches to recreate the nest where one eaglet was born last spring, fledged last summer, and will begin a new life of his own, coming full circle from birth to birth, undaunted by the winds of winter!

Spying on Beaver when he either does not see her or does not see her as a threat is truly one of mom's favorite adventures on the Outback. We'll miss her regale us with stories about "the other Beaver." The
Beaver who is not a guinea pig!

Thank goodness we have our own Beaver, and he is a guinea pig, knowing that wherever we move, our BeaverPig will be right there with us, shaking his cage bars furiously for food with the teeth of a real Beaver!

PANDA OUT!

GOOD MORNING, WOODY! YOU'RE LOOKING FINE IN SPRING PLUMAGE!

WE START A NEW LIFE THIS SPRING

We are definitely moving from our sanctuary by the sanctuary to the "city" and do not know what to expect. We wake up to birdsong and go to sleep with hooting owls and an occasional coyote. Deer walk by beneath our window. We wake up to the fragrance of the marsh; hills dusted with fresh, powdery snow. What will the city be like?

Mom said to think of it this way: We piggies are all going to become hip, urban, bohemian artists and she said that will make us very cool!

HAS MOM  EVER MET US?!

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

WE ARE GUINEA PIGS! WE ARE
UNIMPRESSED, MOM: UN. IM. PRESSED.
WE LOVE IT HERE.


Mom changed strategies, explaining that if we move to one place in particular, we will be living right behind the place she buys all our fresh, organic produce and also near the Farmer's Market: we will enjoy an abundance of FRESH, delicious, organic, local FOOD!

That caught our eye.

We don't know, much less care, about being hip, urban, bohemian art pigs.
It's unlikely mom does either, because she still dresses like she's ready to go climb a mountain.

IT'S FOOD WE UNDERSTAND!

So, instead of feeling sad, she has asked us all to help each other feel glad.

FRESH FOOD FROM THE FARMER'S MARKET? WE LIKE! WE HAPPY! WHEEEEK!

Mom has not photographed her artwork yet and we are growing tired of showing the same thing over and over and over again. Mom's friend in Iowa, Nancy, told her to "Lose the hat!" S0, we don't hold out much hope she will ever learn to dress hip or urban.

But, we will encourage mom to give us her art to feature on the blog so she can at least FEEL
hip, urban, bohemian, and whatever other fancy words she used to mask the fact that she doesn't want to move, either.

On the upside, as she has become more physically ill, we recognize she needs easier access to things that we live far away from and maybe she'll feel happier in the bustle of coffee shops, art galleries, farmer's markets, our independent movie theater, and amenities the Audubon Society does not provide here on the our pond. Our beautiful pond. The one full of beavers, wood ducks, mallards, buffleheads, Great Blue herons, green herons, black-crowned night herons, Canada geese, Virginian rails, stellar jays, chickadees, rufous-sided towhees, red-winged blackbirds...
the Eagle's Nest...Osprey...

Windstorms smashing us with CRAZY Wildness UNLEASHING  Raw, Arctic THUNDER across the marsh, knocking down trees like matchsticks, pelting the landscape with ice and pure POWER!

Who needs it?!


So, dear readers, we shed our winter coats and identities to assume new ones as we respond to extreme changes to our environment.  Where we will end up, nobody knows. One thing: We hope desperately for SouthWest facing windows allowing glorious sunlight to pour itself generously throughout our new abode.  Even on days when the sun doesn't shine it could still be little brighter for all of us.

We'll adjust. We will eat and play and become hip, urban, bohemian, artsy guinea pigs who scramble across sun-drenched floors full of hidden pieces of apple, pear, lettuce, kale, peppers, oranges, and we'll popcorn our glee and wheek with wild abandon. Yes! L'Chaim to Spring-fed Renewal of Life at PandaPigSanctuary!


PANDAPIG OUT!