Bill Vossler: The Joy of Wild Animals
The bald eagle squatting in a shorn alfalfa field 50 feet from the side of the road was definitely inhaling a snake. Possibly alive, as the serpent was squirming. Or did the eagle’s eating make the snake seem alive? Finally, only a couple of inches of the tail remained, which the eagle slurped down like a thick-colored strand of spaghetti.
Viewing wild animals is a gift nature offers to me time after time when I’m driving, like spotting a pair of wild motherless baby skunks that wanted to play with me, running at me, raising their paws, like kittens do. I removed my shoes to pet them with me feet while aiming the camera and shooting pictures. No surprise, but two miles down the road, the socks had to be tossed. That event was fun, if unusual. And I’ve reveled in dozens of other nature-related adventures since.
Like seeing a flock of a dozen wild turkeys, males with red wattles dangling under their chins, smaller hens and three even smaller poults. They were crossing the road so I screeched to a halt--I wanted photos. I was shocked at the size of the toms, each as large as a medium-size dog.
They dilly-dallied for a couple of moments, seemingly unaware of me and the car ten feet away, as I shot picture after picture before they moved down the ditch and up into the trees, where they disappeared. My heart sang as I drove away.
Another day a turkey vulture, an eagle-sized black bird whose job it is to clean up the detritus of animal bodies that cars smashed on the road. Vultures ride the thermals until their keen sense of smell detects a carcass, and then it’s lunchtime. I see them often, large and dark in the sky, and first think they are eagles. But then they flap, a dead giveaway, as eagles flap only to create lift, and then soar and glide. Vulture heads and faces are supremely ugly, but for a good reason: no feathers cover them so they can clean themselves easier, showing their dark red skin.
Painted turtles the size of a slice of bread also frequent the roads. I see them moving slowly onto the macadam, attempting to return home where they were born, and lay eggs.
I always stop to pick up the ones who have survived. They struggled on a little in my hand, probably wondering what monster has gotten hold of them. The shells are cool and solid, the underbelly rich orange and greenish-yellow, with black lines. They seem ancient, so I wonder if I maybe slipped through a time portal back into the Cretaceous, and glance around for a T-Rex or Triceratops. Seeing none, I transfer the turtle across the road in the direction they were traversing, into the grass.
Not so with a huge rock of a snapping turtle I spotted one day on a side road, the first one I‘d ever seen. I‘d heard a lot about them, like if they bit your finger they could bite through the bone with their 1,000-pound bite force, or else their head had to be cut off to release your digit.
The snapper hissed at me, warning me not to come any closer. No problem. I shot several photos, but stayed far enough away not to get grabbed.
Beasts or not, I feel true joy spending a few moments with these wild animals, and I am thrilled for hours afterwards every time I think of them. What could be more wonderful?
— This is the opinion of Bill Vossler of Rockville, author of 18 books including his latest, "Days of Wonder: A Memoir of Growing Up." He can be reached at bvossler0@outlook.com.
This article originally appeared on St. Cloud Times: Bill Vossler: The Joy of Wild Animals
