After the Rain – Nature Bursts With Life in the Country

I’m so tired of rain… Did you find yourself suppressing that thought last week? Biting your tongue, really, because remember last year, or last fall? Remember how it seemed we’d never see rain again to fill the mud holes we call stock tanks?

They’re overflowing now with fresh water, inviting animal sips, immersion. And the land pulses with life, producing new shades of green, daily— pale and deep alike—tinting the humid air around us if you catch it just right.

We live on a gravel, or dirt, road that requires a certain care when driving after heavy rain. Slow travel from necessity, instead of a desire for observation. But observation will come, nevertheless.

Like the family of roadrunners at dusk, right where we used to see one large roadrunner fifteen years ago. I’ve seen at least one of them every day lately.

And black vultures. Five years ago I was startled to see seven of them arranged along the ridge pole of a rarely used barn. Like fans of a sport waiting for the game to start.

In between rainstorms this month four or five of the vultures played aeronautical games over the adjacent pasture. I watched and listened to them this spring as they hung around the patch of woods at the bend of our road. Sounded like a cocktail party.

Our own woods teem with familiar birds—cardinals, blue jays, chickadees, woodpeckers, Carolina wrens, Mourning Doves. These are the most frequent visitors to our yard. Near the creek we hear white-eyed vireos, and the bluebird box is occupied this year by bluebirds. Most unusual.

Cottontail rabbits have returned, displaced for a few years by drought and a resident dog. We’ve even seen the jackrabbit at the intersection of our road and the blacktop a couple of times. His ancestor was a resident right there for years until new owners and drouth moved him on. Or possibly a hungry coyote.

Just recently I realized that the Great Egret and Great Blue Heron who hang out at a shallow tank nearby could be a pair. Possibly a bonded pair. I’ve been seeing them there for more than a year, through every season. It was the roadrunners, though, that got me thinking about time, about generations, about home.

And the wrens I’ve mentioned before.

Wrens were here in 1985 when we first saw this house. A bedroom window, then, had exterior shutters, one of which stayed closed. In the protective space between that shutter and the original glass window a wren had built her nest. She and her descendants continued to build a nest there until, twenty- two years later, we covered that wall with a modest addition. Now they must be more creative. They like our front porch although it’s frequently used. They found a dusty watering can one year. And for the last two years they’ve built in a pooper-scooper that hangs on a handy nail.

My point however isn’t the determination of Carolina Wrens. It’s the fact that this house is their home, and was theirs before it was ours.

Our “neighborhood” is the homeplace of all these nonmigrating animals. Territories for some will be larger than our small acreage, and some fit well inside. All of it, of course, unburdened by property lines.

Then there are armadillos, squirrels, and the constellation of insects, spiders, frogs, and occasional turtle. Opossums, raccoons…the list goes on.

It’s a busy place, our home, bursting with life after some rain. Confirming the gorgeous richness we live beside and within. We see it now so vividly as the reason for living here, the gift that makes even life alone less lonely.

“EASY GOING” by Leon Hale is available in paper now through bookstores and online. Readers can contact Babette Hale at bfhale2017@gmail. com