11:50 a.m. Friday, Sept. 11 at Chatham Pond
On the other side of the pond three robins are still searching for worms. Generally, I picture birds hunting for food in the morning, most likely because of the common phrase, “The early bird catches the worm.” But no, late birds can also catch a worm, although I have yet to see one of my robins grasping a squiggling worm between their beaks. Even now and then, one of them pecks at the ground, but mostly they just stand and stare, their heads twitching from side to side.
I imagine that it’s a good day for hunting worms. There’s more moisture in the air, which makes the ground soft. To the best of my knowledge it didn’t rain the night before, but even the pond’s water level appears higher than the week before. Perhaps the cooler weather lately has decreased the amount of evaporation. As a native of Northern Michigan, I cannot help noticing the water level wherever I go. For nearly my entire life I lived within one mile of Lake Michigan. For several years, the declining water levels of all the Great Lakes have remained a concern not only for environmental reasons but for economic reasons as well. Water and sporting activities are part of Michigan’s tourism. People come to enjoy sailing, canoeing/kayaking/tubing down narrow rivers, and the view of a sunset setting over fresh open water. When I still lived "up north" as we call it, I walked along Lake Michigan's waterfront and saw wavering lines stretching horizontally across large rocks indicating how high the water used to reach. And every time it rains, I hope it pours and that the rainwater will find its way back to the Great Lakes.
Chatham pond isn’t exactly Lake Michigan, but after twenty years of living near a large body of water, I can’t help thinking about it whenever I see a river or pond or another lake. Although I consider Pittsburgh to be a polluted city with dirty rivers and over-developed shorelines, I’m glad I have to chance to experience water in nature on a daily basis. Chatham’s pond is no exception. It makes me feel as if a small piece of Michigan has traveled with me, no matter how small it may be.
Soon I expect that the pond will also become polluted, not with chemicals but with leaves. Leaves, although natural, make ponds and pools seem dirty and neglected. Already, leaves and seed pods have begun to fall from a nearby tree, sprinkling the surface and clumping together at the pond’s edge. Sometimes they float gently downward and sometimes they plummet until they hit the water with a plot. This plop I’ve just realized has been caused by a squirrel hanging upside down from a branch where he picks seeds pods, eats them and then discards the shell. I have never thought of these pods before as food. I wonder if they have much flavor. If a squirrel can eat them I imagine a human can as well, yet I’m not feeling a craving for seed pods this morning.
Apparently, the pond also attracts dogs. Someone’s unmonitored pet has wandered in my direction. A mutt, I believe, with stocky legs and a golden coat. He wades into the pond for a drink. As gross as the pond may appear with its murky water and littered surface, it must be clean if a dog can drink happily from it. However, I’m not about to cup my hands for an early afternoon sip. Dogs have a much more tolerable stomach than I.
Nice details and narrative writing style. I'm wondering if "polluted" is the right word to use for leaves that fall into a pond? And I wonder if it's something in our cultural background that makes us think ponds are neglected if they have leaves in them. Some bugs and insects will like having those leaves to float on, and if they are big, small fish can hide under them. It's all part of a natural cycle.
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