Place 4: Finally Welcome at the Pond

4:50 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 24

I’m waiting for the rain. A grey sky looms overhead as I sit beside the pond, the water still slightly murky like a brownish pea soup. The temperature has dropped slightly and I smell moisture in the air from some distant place. Fall apparently hasn’t arrived yet as I anticipated two weeks ago. The leaves are still green and no more have fallen from the nearby tree, which I discovered is a maple tree. A Norway maple to be exact. During my first week here, I suspected that it might be a maple because of the five-pointed leaves. Knowing that I am correct boosts my ego, which I must admit lives like a little sulky gnome inside my chest waiting to unearth itself when the moment finally arrives to say, “Aha! I was right.” At the same time, though, I feel a little sheepish. I should have known without a doubt that the tree was a maple because it’s just like the one that used to grow in my yard in Northern Michigan. I recognized the two-winged seed pods that have now lost their vibrant pale green hue, becoming a dull light brown. They litter the ground beneath my feet, along with a few cigarette butts. At first I didn’t notice the butts because their brownish color resembles the pods closely.

Four weeks have passed since my first visit to the pond and I’m starting to feel welcome. One of the squirrels, which I incorrectly assumed to be a brown squirrel but is actually an Eastern grey squirrel, greeted me soon after arrival. There I was sitting on my little bench beside the pond feeling irritable about the cigarette butts, when a gray squirrel approached me. Before, I could only see him at a distance. Once closer, I noticed that this little guy does have more grey in his coat than brown, as well as grey tipped fur on his tail. When he greets me, he stands on his hind legs, front paws pressed against his chest, revealing a creamy white underbelly. His nose quivers. Perhaps he smells the soap I used during my shower earlier. He continues to stand, reminding me of my gerbil, Vertumnus, who assumes the same position whenever curious about something. Whether they are large or small, I’m always amazed by the similarities between rodents.

Soon, the squirrel runs away only to be replaced by another grey squirrel with a less bushy tail. Now a third, a black squirrel that happens to be a darker variation of the Eastern grey, shoots me a quizzical look. While the black one nears my bench to take a closer look, a sparrow with dull brown feathers flies beneath my seat. Either I’m sitting over a pile of seeds and nuts, or I’m a popular human today. By now, though, I hope the animals have grown accustomed to my presence. With any luck they may even like me—and I expect much more than the litterbug smoker, whoever he or she may be.

Although I consider myself to be excellent company, somehow I don’t think I’m the reason the animals are attracted to the pond today. Several squirrels scurry to and fro, a flock of house sparrows flutters a few yards away pecking at the moss edging the pond, and dozens of tiny to medium-sized goldfish skim the water’s surface. I’ve noticed that more insects buzz through the air today than usual. Most likely, the generous combination of insects and seeds is the reason for all the activity. Squirrels eat seeds as well as sparrows that also consume insects. And like sparrows, fish also enjoy an insect or two. I’m glad someone can make use of insects, because I personally do not enjoy the company of flies and gnats. So when the time came to depart for home, I didn’t mind escaping the flies, leaving them to their fate with the fish and birds.