The Difference Between Looking and Seeing

Today, after sitting in the office for hours on end, researching the subnivean and drinking a little bit too much hot chocolate, I decided to go for a hike to release some pent up energy and try to find a good “sit spot” to clear my mind and observe the natural world. So I strapped on some snowshoes and headed out to Shaver Pond. I knew I wanted to find a spot on the opposite shore that was near the pond, but still somewhat secluded, so I decided to just walk the whole loop and see what spots struck my fancy.

Shaver Pond at Grafton Lakes State Park, glowing in the fading sun.

The sun was shining through the branches of the tall pines on the edge of the pond, laden with freshly fallen snow. Every now and then, the wind or a quick movement from a stealthy squirrel would cause the delicately balanced snow to rain down in a cascade of glitter. I was the first person to walk the path since the snow, but the going was easy enough on the well compacted trail. A little ways down the path I caught sight of some tracks near a tree. Three separate paths led to holes in the snow that went all the way down to the slumbering Earth below. After investigating the holes, I found a small indentation in the ground at the bottom of each one. It seemed that a squirrel had decided to “cache” in on some of its winter stores. Nearby I found more tracks that seemed to belong to some kind of walker, maybe a fox, but the trail was older and hard to distinguish so I moved on. 

Woodpecker hole in an old tree.

For a while I got lost in my mind and passed through the forest in a state of unawareness, as if my thoughts had created a pair of mental blinders. As I continued to walk, I noticed that the sun was getting low in the sky and my awareness of my surroundings quickly came back to me. The trail turned away from the edge of the pond, but I continued to follow the shore, into the thick of the darkening woods, through the deep and heavy snow. With each step I took my feet became harder and harder to lift from the almost knee deep snow. It felt as though my feet had turned into cement blocks, and the snow around me seemed so soft and pillowy that I decided to sit for a moment to rest my legs. I plopped down next to a big tree and sat listening to the gentle sounds of the forest at dusk until the chilly air forced me into action once more. As I rose to leave, I caught movement in the corner of my eye and froze. I watched silently as a bushy white tail bounded away through the woods and disappeared into the growing twilight. Following its tracks back to where I startled it from, I found a newly made bed where it was probably planning on spending the night before I came stumbling along and scared it away. I wanted to stay longer, but the light was leaving quickly so I followed its example.

An old beaver chew near a recently used deer bed. 

As I made my way back around the pond, the golden glow that illuminated the trees across the frozen water slowly gave way to a dusky blue that settled in the hollows of the snow and quickly filled them to overflowing. The sounds of the trees groaning from the cold and animals bedding down for the night seemed to become amplified as my sight slowly diminished and the rising tide of blue washed the landscape clear of its distinguishing features. Even in the low light, the lingering glow of the day reflected off the snow and allowed me to spot a set of tracks that led to a short tunnel. I wanted to take a peek inside so I got down on my knees and was just able to make out a set of tiny prints inside the snow tunnel. Excited with my new discovery, I shifted to check the other side and promptly sunk into a deep bank of snow, destroying the tunnel and burying myself up to my neck in the fluffy powder. As I struggled to right myself, which was made all the more difficult while wearing snowshoes, I found another tunnel leading down to the surface of the pond. Deciding not to disturb whatever animal might be down there with more of my clumsy fumbling, I got back on the trail and heading back towards the office.

The last glow of the day was almost completely swallowed by the horizon by the time I made it back out of the forest. Tired after my lengthy excursion, I collapsed into a snow bank and looked up at the sky. The dark blue slowly deepened and I watched as the stars came out one by one. First the biggest and brightest, followed by smaller and dimmer stars, as if they were waiting to make sure that the coast was clear. Eventually the constellations started to take shape, with Orion at the forefront, watching over the soft and silent land. I took a couple of slow breaths and breathed in deeply of the cool night air, thinking of all the wondrous things I saw. It’s amazing the things you see if only you allow yourself to look. 

Mink tracks on the pond.