When I think of special moments we have shared, it is fitting that so many of them have something to do with animals. Whether it's petting goats at the county fair or praying for the animals that died in the war because of the "mean man" who poured oil into the Persian Gulf, your sensitivity and love for nature will always be precious to me.
One memory that especially stands out for me is the day your friend Nate brought you a toad. It was the week of your fourth birthday. Do you remember how much fun we had last summer with Mr. Beaver? (You named him after Nate's dad, Mr. Beaver, who caught him for you.) Nate's mom made a very nice home for him inside a fishbowl, with rocks, some small plants, dirt and a little water hole. The only thing missing was, well, his dinner.
Until that day, I always thought toads were sluggish and dull. Then we put in that first little grasshopper.
At first, it seemed like the toad didn't notice he had company. Then suddenly Blip! a pink tongue whipped out from his mouth and snatched that little hopper right up. It happened so fast we almost missed it.
"Let's go catch another one!" you said as you raced to the door.
After two more grasshoppers we found a spider. "Think he likes spiders?" I said as we dropped a daddy longlegs into the bowl. Seconds later Mr. Beaver gobbled him up with a sideways flick of the tongue.
After the spider, it seemed time for something more challenging. As we crossed the back yard I saw a bumble bee, the huge, scary kind. "What do you think?" I asked, and your eyes just glowed.
At the kitchen table we carefully dropped the bee into the toad's fishbowl home and instantly Mr. Beaver brightened up again, eagerly leaning forward as if crouched to pounce. The bee seemed to deliberately keep to the furthest part of the bowl, but the longer the bee stayed away from him, the more eager Mr. Beaver became, crawling forward almost cat-like toward the middle of the fishbowl, then pulling back, then creeping forward again. I have never seen a toad look so alert.
And we, too, were alert, our eyes wide as we leaned forward on our elbows, watching.
For more than five minutes the bee kept his distance, but then, he began flying nearer and Blip! Glump! that big bee completely disappeared. After a few seconds, Mr. Beaver seemed to cough, then he opened his mouth a couple more times like he was burping. In the end, he looked very satisfied.
Thank you, Micah, for giving me fresh eyes to see anew the wonders of this world that is so exciting for you and precious to us all. Don't ever let me take it for granted.
* * *
Postscript: Micah never became an animal doctor.
He instead went to culinary school and has served
as a line cook, sous chef and head chef at some
very fine restaurants.
No comments:
Post a Comment