It’s a busy morning in the marsh. A sandpiper rushes across a stretch of sea-smoothed stones. If only we could make such sweet piping sounds as we take off in flight to meet our deadlines, Mondays wouldn’t be so bad.
Crabs are sparring with one another just beneath the water’s surface. The disagreement is over almost as quickly as it’s started, and they respectfully move to their territorial rocks. Look at all those little fish. Surely there’s enough for everyone to share.
Mergansers have already had breakfast and are determined to stay close and tight as they move quickly to their next destination. There are only three young ones left in a brood that might have had eight or more to start with. Things don’t always work out as planned, but it’s important to move forward and make the most of the day ahead.
A great blue heron wrestles with a long fish. The bird twists its snake-like neck and turns its head upside down in order to get a better grip. It could certainly teach us a thing or two on the value of being results-oriented. Sensing that I am getting much too close for comfort, it takes off with its meal in flight.
The heron below also takes off as I draw near. The sandpiper wading nearby doesn’t mind its ominous silhouette. It knows that things usually aren’t as scary and threatening as they might appear at first.
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.~ Wendell Berry
Good morning, Amy-Lynn. What a beautiful heart-touching post. That last photo and the accompanying poem moves something–you’ve captured our haunted heart. The fact that death and grief exists along with the peace of the wild things. Bowing deeply to your open heart.
Thank you Kathy. I certainly struggled with putting this post together, using a few different approaches with the images before settling on this one. Using Berry’s poem came to me at the very end of my writing as I realized the peaceful ways that wild creatures seem to have, despite their difficulties in surviving from one day to the next.
Bowing deeply back.
Another beautiful and inspiring post. Thoughtful and inspiring words.
Thank you missusk76. Nice to see you back 🙂
I love your blog so much. I would love to live in a place so beautiful. Now, if I could only hit the lottery so I can afford the move! Not sure how you’d feel being invaded by an American, but I promise, I’ll keep to myself, pick up garbage, and try to blend as a local!
cala4lily, thank you for your kind comment. It is a beautiful place, with most likely well enough room for an American with such an appreciation of the beauty of our wild spaces.
“Things don’t always work out as planned, but it’s important to move forward and make the most of the day.” What words of wisdom, Miss Amy – for all sorts of situations. And your photos are fabulous – how DO you get so close?
Thanks Cindy Lou. My husband thought I needed a new camera and he picked one out that lets me get a lot closer than before. However, the sandpiper in the top photo did let me get quite near. The photos of the crabs were taken from a bridge in the marsh through rapidly moving water. I’m surprised they turned out as well as they did. I’m still learning how to use the camera.
What kind of camera did you get? 🙂
Kathy, it’s a black digital camera 😉
Actually… it’s a Nikon Coolpix S8000. My other one was a grey Nikon Coolpix 4300.
There are those who argue non-game wildlife have no value. This post confirms they do as Wendell Berry reminds us.
Scott, I’ve never even questioned the value of non-game wildlife. Thanks for mentioning that.
Another fine post, Amy-Lynn, beautifully wrought.
Kudos on the crisp sandpiper and the heron captured in the full downstroke of its powerful wings.
I heard The Peace of Wild Things for the first time at a symposium on landscape and community–how landscape shapes our art, our history, our sense of ourselves as a people, and how we shape the landscape. I’ve never forgotten the poem, and every time I meet it, as here, it seems to illuminate things of great value.
Thank you Gerry.
The Peace of Wild Things is a wonder of a poem. That symposium on landscape and community must have offered quite a few insights. We’re so connected to each other and the landscape, in ways we’re just beginning to understand. I think this was known by earlier peoples but it was somehow forgotten by the majority over the centuries.
“I think this was known by earlier peoples but it was somehow forgotten by the majority over the centuries.” I think you hit the nail on the head right there, Cindy Lou. Rural people understand it intrinsically, but there are millions of urban folk who never get(or take) the chance to get out into nature and experience it’s soul renewing qualities.
I feel that a lot of our challenges would be more easily met if natural experiences (and I mean experiences – not just looking) were an integral part of our school curricula – especially in urban area; if children grow up understanding that nature is not just pretty pictures and scary animals, but an essential part of being human.
It’s a shame how so many children are disconnected from nature. Sadly, they don’t know what they’re missing.
In Germany, there are forest kindergardens that introduce children to nature at an early age. See Wikipedia’s entry at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forest_kindergarten
From Wikipedia’s entry on forest schools:
“The Biophilia hypothesis argues that a love of nature is instinctive. The term nature deficit disorder was coined to recognise the erosion of this by the urbanisation of human society. Attention Restoration Theory and related psychological work has proven health benefits in reduced stress, improved concentration and improved medical outcomes from surgery. Scandanavian countries, rich in woodland, have maintained the human link more closely.”
For more, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forest_schools
That sounds like a great program. I think all of North American should adopt it and make it manditory. Thanks for the link.
Cindy (Ann):)
I have to apologize as I realized I got confused in my reading and attributed Gerry’s comment to Cindy-Lou. I’m so sorry.
Even if it were for a fleeting moment I found peace…reading this post. Long live Mother Earth and all her children!
Thanks Amy, great job 🙂
Thanks swaps. Nice to know we can have such a positive effect on one another even though we live on opposite sides of the planet.
Same here Amy 🙂
That heron in flight is just amazing. Thanks, Amy-Lynn.
Anne, when I photographed it, I didn’t think I’d get such a view of it in flight. These things just happen sometimes.
I’d say this might be the best of your 2010 posts, but then I remember the black-and-white images, and of course there are over four months left in the year.
Thank you for the kind comment Pamela. It’s hard to believe that there are only four months left of 2010.
How come the only crabs I ever see are dead ? Do I have to get up at 6 am to see ’em ?
And mergansers !!! WOW.
Wonderful post Amy-Lynn.
Sybil, the crabs are there at all times but are very well camouflaged among the rocks. We’ll have to go on a crab walk soon.
The little merganser family was down to two young ones when I saw them again a couple of days ago in the marsh.
[…] The Peace of Wild Things […]
Thanks Amy-Lynn for directing me here. This is a swooningly apropos illustration of Berry’s poem, or vice versa. Your neck of the woods looks like Eden to this suburb-barnacled soul. – Brendan
You’re welcome Brendan. As beautiful as Nova Scotia’s natural surroundings may be, the ‘despair for the world’ that Berry wrote of can be found here too. All the more reason for us to not take for granted ‘the peace of wild things’ that we are ours by grace.