In praise of taking a pause
We were relaxing in a pair of chairs, overlooking a creek that’s
still running high through northernmost San Benito County, between
Hollister and Gilroy.
In praise of taking a pause
We were relaxing in a pair of chairs, overlooking a creek that’s still running high through northernmost San Benito County, between Hollister and Gilroy.
As we sat, hawks coursed the still-green fields, looking for the opportunity to seize a mouse or lizard. As we watched, a Northern Harrier floated directly toward us, failing to notice our presence until she was about 20 feet away. A tiny movement, perhaps the blink of an eye, alerted her to the fact that we were animated creatures, bigger than her and possibly a threat.
She did an abrupt barrel roll, landed, gathered her bearings and sped away.
Northern Harriers are common in our area. They are unusual among raptors, in that the males and females are very differently marked. Young birds and females are predominantly brown, while males are a more showy gray and black. Both sexes wear a broad white band across the area above the base of their tales, an area birders identify as the rump.
Their buoyant flight low over open fields is a common sight. Harriers have feathers arranged into a “facial disk” like many owls. The arrangement allows them to focus sounds toward their ears, the better for them to pluck a mouse or a sparrow from the field.
Harriers are thriving in our area, so seeing one was not an event, but seeing one so closely interacting with us was. It was a reminder of what can unfold when a person takes time to hold still.
On several occasions, I’ve watched skunks go about their business, oblivious to me because I took the time to hold still.
A stretch of Llagas Creek near Gilroy was a spot I visited almost weekly for several years. One day, I froze as I watched three bobcat kittens roll around wrestling in spirited play – because I held still.
My prize sighting was a fisher who visited a creek just a few feet from the rock where I rested, high in the Sierra. Even people who live in the wilderness can go a lifetime without ever encountering one of these large relatives of weasels. The animal went about its business for a few minutes until something – possibly my scent – alerted it to my presence. Then it disappeared so quickly it left me wondering if I’d really seen it.
I’ve said it before, but when a person asks how I collect all the stories that I tell in this space each week, I usually reply that I spend a fair amount of time outdoors.
But I don’t spend any more time outdoors than many of my friends and acquaintances. Instead, I remind myself from time to time to hold still for a few minutes.
Naturalist John Muir preached the same lesson more than a century ago. Nearly any comfortable spot will do.
Most of our interactions with wildlife occurs as they flee from us. When we hold still for a time, we cease to be perceived as an immediate threat, and animals begin to return to the business they were pursuing before our arrival.
