You had to be There

My cat, Rumble, despite his back problems, loves sleeping on his back.

I’ve never seen a cat quite like him.

On his back, white belly exposed, legs spread wide, not a care, not a worry—he is the most relaxed cat you’ve ever seen.

Little Girl rarely looks relaxed when she sleeps.  She looks like a cat, curled up, tail wrapped around her, head resting on her arm.

My favorite moments are catching her when she falls into a deep sleep, when her body starts twitching and her head lolls and rolls off her arm.  It’s so rare to see her unguarded.  It’s precious and lovely.

Sometimes, like this afternoon, I catch her sleeping on her side, paws pulled up like a begging dog, and I smile because it’s another unguarded moment.

If cats were people, Rumble would be the type to go shopping at Walmart in his pajamas.

Little Girl wouldn’t dare leave the house without make-up and a can of pepper spray in her purse.

Part of the pleasure of going to the Wetlands, of going out to take pictures of nature, is being a witness to those unguarded moments, when wild animals, who have not been taught to fear humans, carry on about their lives as if they weren’t being stalked by creepy people watching them through camera lenses and binoculars.

Today, I watched a Great Blue Heron couple move in to palm tree that had previously held an abandoned anhinga nest.

I have seen Great Blues in various stages of couple-hood before.  I have seen them build nests.  I have watched them mate (it’s quick and involves the male looking pretty silly, hopping and chasing after the female in the shallow waters).

But today was the first time I saw a couple immediately post honeymoon, looking for that first home, looking for the place they would raise their children.

It’s always easy to apply human characteristics to animals, but today—today—these birds didn’t seem like birds at all.  They danced, they groomed each other. 

The male leaned his head in close to the female’s as if whispering, “I love you.”

Their heads intertwined forming a heart.

It was magical.

I took a hundred pictures.

And when I turned back to the road, I was startled to find one of my friends waving to me.

She was walking the Wetlands with several of her friends and they had stopped to watch the Great Blue Herons too.

I think we were all caught up in the magic of the moment.

And I was thrilled to be able to share the moment with a friend instead of being forced to try and describe it (like I’m doing now) with words and pictures that are just inadequate.