Journal 2.0

We checked out a new park today, Edward Medard Park, not 15 minutes from our house. The sun shone gloriously over the expanse of still water. A hawk circling overhead greeted us, and all kinds of herons, a sandhill crane, grackles, a jurassic pelican, and a few anhingas roosted in a large thatch alongside the bridge across the waterway. A breeze rippled the water and made the heat of midday pleasant. We found an “observation” tower at the end of the bridge, but the trees had grown up so tall around it that there wasn’t much of a view. So we explored.

It was quiet. Naturally quiet. This quiet has been hard to find in the state, county and federal parks we’ve visited here in Florida. Usually a background roar of car and/or airboat engines distract from the peace one is supposed to encounter in nature. Today, I could hear cars, but they were far enough away that I was able to tune them out.

We walked into the woods, Corey taking the lead, of course, Marley in the middle, and Old Mom (me) bringing up the rear. We walked along unofficial trails carved out by small groups of visitors who’d come before us to smoke a joint, have a beer, harass alligators. Their presence was obvious by the occasional red plastic cups and cigarette butts they left behind.

The trail snaked around the high banks on the water’s edge. Marley maneuvered through the vines, brush and tree roots like an old pro. Every so often, we’d encounter an open descent toward the water. Corey would tell us to stay put while he slunk down to check for alligators. It was clear we were not alone.

Swooshsplash! I turned my head just in time to see a four- or five-foot gator crash ungracefully into the shimmering water. “Gator! Gator!” I yelled to Marley and Corey. It was the closest we’d been to a wild gator since moving to Florida, so our hearts beat with excitement.

On our way down the next bank, we heard another splash and caught sight of a second gator, about 8 feet long, with a head bigger than all of Marley. We were on top looking down on his glistening bumpy hide as he swam away.

We moved on along the rugged path to the next opening. Corey skulked down one opening, while Marley and I checked out another very close by. I was holding Marley’s hand when I came around a slight bend just in time to hear an enormous SPLASHHH! and see a huge 10 foot gator writhe and bend as he splashed into the water below.

It frightened all of us. Corey was closer to him than we were, but his view was partially blocked by trees, so he didn’t see the gator until he splashed into the water. Marley “cried two little tears” she said later, and moaned, “I’m afraaaaaid.” I picked her up onto my hip like the toddler that she was not so long ago and told her it was okay. We were safe.

Corey rushed back to our side of the bank and we all stood there, hearts pounding, eyes wide. Frightened but exhilarated.

We continued on this path, but I had become nervous. Corey went to check out another opening in the path. However, Marley and I were too close to the water for my comfort, too low. I know alligators cannot climb steep banks, so I felt relatively safe up there. Down here, I felt like, well, a sitting duck. I continued to hold Marley like a baby and I noticed she didn’t squirm to get down. The size of the last two gators reminded me that they could break her in one hearty chomp.

I encouraged Corey to stop exploring now and start heading back. He took one more excursion toward the water and when I asked him to come back, Marley patted my hand and in a peaceful little voice said, “Stay calm, Mama. Stay calm.” She was patting my hand like a little old lady! She’s such a trip.

Definitely a nature walk to remember.

Well, Kiddo just got her “first snake bite.” She was feeding Goldie, the rosy boa, but apparently didn’t let go of the mouse. The snake got her left thumb instead of the mouse.

All I heard was a frightful scream over Corey’s voice, and I ran. I’ve never heard my kid scream like that. It took five years off my life. She’s over it already, and my heart’s still doing flips.

She cried and wailed while Corey ran it under cold water and checked for stray teeth. Then I held her and we took some deep breaths together. That helped, both her and me.

While we breathed, Corey explained to her that now she’s a “real creature girl.” That people who keep snakes get bit occasionally and so this, her first bite, is a grand event. We quickly turned it into a positive so she wouldn’t be traumatized for the rest of her life. She asked him how many times he’s been bitten and was impressed when he told her six or seven.

When she’d calmed down, she opened the slider and announced, “Grampy, I just got my first snake bite.”

Just like that. Now she’s fine. She said, “Next time I feed him, I’ll make sure to let go.”

I am so grateful she’s not as sensitive a child as I was. If that were me at four years old, I’d be terrified of snakes forever. In less than ten minutes she was already thinking about “next time.” As I write this, she’s gone right back to helping Corey feed the rest of them. My kid’s brave and tough. I admire her more and more every day.

I’m feeling a little jealous of my cat.

She’s doing her job, and doing it well. But I suppose I could do it well too if someone provided everything I needed.

She’s got a cozy box inside a safe, dark, warm closet. And she just sits there. She gets to lay about with her kittens all day. Suckling them, cleaning them, keeping them warm. It looks so cozy, I want to crawl in the box with them.

When I go in there to check on them, it feels peaceful. Safe and empty of everything but the essential. She does appear burdened sometimes with all this new responsibility. We’re seeing a serious side to her personality that was absent before motherhood took her by surprise. I can relate. Yet, she seems to understand that caring for her young is all she has to do. Her only worries are contained in that one little box.

I wish I could enjoy my offspring like that, with no other worries clouding the moment. It seems so natural for a mother to be laying about with her helpless babies, devoting herself entirely to their physical survival. Why can’t life be that simple for us?

We have three new kittens!

As I slowly woke up yesterday morning, I felt Bucky near my legs, under the covers. I thought, “What kind of a cat sleeps under the covers?” He was pawing my legs, purring and occasionally crying. This was my first clue, since, although purring in the morning is not unusual, crying certainly is. Then I felt moisture near my feet. I thought it was Corey’s sweaty feet–not unusual.

Eventually I got up to make some tea. While in the kitchen, I was surprised to hear Corey calling me, and with unusual gusto. “Suuuuu-sanne. Susanne! I guess Bucky’s not a boy after all!”

It was weird thing for him to even be awake at that hour. And talking nonsense on top of it? I was sure he was dreaming. But he wasn’t. He was up, unusually coherent, and yelling at me to “Come look!”

Kittens in the bed. Bucky gave birth to three black and gray striped kittens in our bed while we slept.

What a feeling. It’s hard to describe the excitement and joy I felt at seeing those kittens. Marley and I laid down on the bed next to them for an hour today, just watching. They’re just so precious. And it’s such a miracle.

Poor Bucky, so young. But she’s doing great. I’m really proud of her. By the time we woke up, she’d had them all cleaned up beautifully and they were suckling away at her. She knew just what to do. She’s being a good little mommy. It’s amazing.