What an Adventure...

We knew the only way to truly beat today's predicted scorching hot weather was to escape to the water. The Big Elk Creek to be exact. We spent seven hours and nearly twelve miles with my sweetheart paddling the canoe with the kids. I went solo in the kayak. The river is lined by forest most of the way, casting shadows over the corridor. A slight cool breeze kept the heat at bay as well as a few stops to swim in the chilly water. We seemed to displace a great blue heron every couple of miles. His great outstretched wings carried him upstream out of sight -for a little while at least. There were a few white-tailed deer sipping at the water's edge until they heard us merrily float along. We saw a beaver, a bald eagle, ducks and geese, loads of butterflies, and dragonflies. Many a Bluegill were seen jumping out of the water for the insects congregating on the shallow rocks.

Often I found myself ahead of the rest of my family; a lone kayaker can travel quicker than a heavy canoe laden with picnic supplies, two loud children, and my sweetheart at the helm. I took solace in the sweet scent of wild honeysuckle, the sounds of bird song, of the sun glittering on the water, and an occasional tree frog croaking nearby. But these were not strong enough diversions as my every spare minute had been filled with the thoughts of Nayan Woods. Just a few days ago, I learned that a New Zealand acquaintance had lost her four-year-old son in a freak accident. He had died a week ago. Like a pebble thrown in still water, his death left a ripple that radiated around the globe and I felt it, too. Sometimes it's hard to even breathe if I think about it long enough.

Bad things happen. There is so much in this world that seems so unjust. Just open a newspaper and take your pick: the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the earthquakes in Haiti and Chile; a four year old boy happily walking home from the park with his six-year-old brother & mother fatally hit by a car that lost control in slick road conditions. Bad things happen. And the world still spins and we carry ourselves along the best we can. My mind just won't let this go. My mind is searching for equilibrium, a balance to the horror of this nightmare, contemplating the deep grief his family is now burdened with. It's my every spare thought.

Here comes the canoe with my life floating towards me. Knowing how fragile, how precious every moment is, I don't waste a second of it. I am delighted in their every discovery, their laughter, and tell them I love them every chance I get. Papa points at the bald eagle soaring above us, Alyssa squeals as she sees the heron fly off down the river bank again, and Lewis points to the vast network of thick tree roots, coiled down at the water's edge. I hear what at first sounds like a mockingbird and ask everyone if they know what that sound is. Papa shrugs it off as some child of in the distance yelling for its mother. Changing my mind, Sounds like a bleating goat, I say. They paddle off as I coast behind, snapping pictures of my family.

The bleating is getting louder as I paddle along in effort to catch up. Looking up into the tall trees and beyond the shoreline into the forest, still I don't see a thing. But the sound is loud and clear. And then it catches the corner of my eye -the most bizarre sight I ever saw. A fawn is dangling from the roots of a tree by its neck, wiggling its legs and bleating its lungs out. Its mother is standing right above it absolutely paralyzed, unable to leave her baby yet scared of my presence. I yell to my party ahead that I'm stopping, turn the kayak around, and get to shore. The baby deer stopped wiggling and I am afraid I am too late. He just hung there, clearly finished with its struggle. I grabbed its body as I would a cat, one hand under its belly where the front legs meet, my other hand cradling his bottom. It was so small. As I gently lift the fawn he turns his head and is free of its wooden noose.

Not knowing if it broke its neck or a leg, I took him to the water's edge. Cool him down, was all I could think of, all the while hushing and cooing him as I'm sure he was stricken with fear just like his mother. His heart was beating so hard. His spotted coat was soft as silk. He weighed next to nothing. He never struggled to get free, but he looked intact, unharmed. The kids came up by now and I allowed them to pet him sparingly, gently. My sweetheart eventually took him up into the thicket edge of the woods and let him go. Now there's hope that he will survive.

A good thing happened today. The theatre of life is filled with all kinds of love & heartbreak, tears and joy. The world keeps spinning. And we jump back in our boats, paddling forth on our watery course mindful of the fragility of life.

What an adventure.