Our marsh and field ponds are mostly iced-in now with a thin meringue of the latest snow. From a distance, they look placid, if not moribund. When we get close, however, we see that the snow is a diary of the hectic night before, with many comings and goings of furry neighbors as big as deer and as small as squirrels and voles.
The ice breathes, heaves. groans and, sometimes, issues a “CRACK!” as loud and startling as an unexpected rifle shot. We’re hoping that the river otters come again this year to belly slide and remind us that glee is still possible. (Brooklin, Maine)