Early, one spring morning, I arrived at the meadow before sunrise.
I wanted to watch and photograph the sunrise from across the small vernal pond down in the low, sometimes wet area of
Big Meadows in Shenandoah National Park. The word, vernal, means that it is not always a pond, drying out in the summer
months between rainfalls. Perhaps, I could take a picture of pink clouds reflecting off the currently full pond.
Daybreak arrives before sunrise. Daybreak is when there
is enough light to see better than at night,. Sunrise is when the sun comes into view above the horizon. Early daybreak
provided just enough light to see the trail through the meadow to the vernal pond..
My compass and data showing the azimuth of the sunrise told
me where to place my tripod and camera ahead of actual sunrise. But only time would tell if there would be sunlight
poking the bottoms of the clouds turning them pink in embarrassment at being ticklish. I sat patiently beside my camera,
waiting the thirty minutes for the predicted sunrise.
Through the dim light, I could barely make out the outlines
of the red pannicled dogwood trees nearby. The small groves of trees grow along the lowest parts of this high altitude
wetland in the center of the meadow. These trees have been browsed by the white-tailed deer so that all the remaining
leaves are five feet above the ground or higher. Only the many thin branch less trunks fill the space below.
I became aware of a strange sound emanating from just beyond
the multiple thin bare trunks about a hundred feet to the north of the pond. "Skoosh, Skoosh...Skoosh, Skoosh."
What in the world could that be? There was not yet enough
light to see clearly past the trees. But I did not have time to go investigate. The clouds, if they were there,
might turn pink before the sun actually peeked above the horizon. I needed to stay near my camera to trip the shutter
if a brief show of color appeared in the sky.
"Skoosh, Skoosh...Skoosh, Skoosh...Skoosh." The sun was
beginning to get brighter , reflecting more light to the ground around me.
"Skoosh, Skoosh."
No pink in the sky yet, but I had to stay put , ready at the
camera for when and if I saw pink in the sky reflecting off the pond.
"Skoosh, Skoosh...Skoosh, Skoosh."
Then there was just enough light to see motion beyond the bare
dogwood trunks -- the motion causing the skoosh sounds. A half dozen deer took turns jumping stiff legged up and down
in the swampy mud in the grasses just beyond the trees. They looked to be playing in the sloppy mud, just as human children
in brand new metal buckled, black goulashes test the power of waterproof footwear by stomping in puddles, knowing that they
won’t get their feet wet, and knowing that Mother would not say, "Don't do that."
""Skoosh," as a deer’s front hooves came straight down
from a high leap and penetrated the sloppy, grassy, joyful, muddy puddles. "Skoosh," as the hind legs splashed
in. After a brief pause to enjoy the mud oozing around the hooves,
that deer went airborne again, straight up in the air.
The sun came up, rose above the horizon and showed no pink clouds
this morning. The deer stopped playing in the mud, perhaps not wanting human witnesses to see them having fun.
Little did they know that a human had heard the "Skoosh, Skoosh"
and had watched them in dim but useful light just before the sun turned twilight into daytime. Little did they know
that the human was not disappointed that there were no pink clouds reflecting in the vernal pond. No pictures were recorded
in the camera, only in the mind of one very lucky human.
-- Ranger Bob
