A Recipe for Happiness
Yesterday was like today. But, there are two noteworthy dissimilarities. Yesterday was winter. Today is spring. Yesterday found me in a wild place. Today will find me at home. At home, on the first calendar day of spring in the Northern Hemisphere.
Today my goal is to replay yesterday…for you.
Why is the last calendar day of winter worthy of remembering? This is the question we will answer. There are life truths in yesterday’s adventure. You can use them while you live on this earth.
Did you remember that reflecting on the past guides decisions for life ahead? Since my mind works in simple ways, don’t expect a profound thought here. My goal in retelling the events on the final day of winter for 2020-2021 is to encourage you to look ahead to plan time outside. Go outside…alone if no one else is available or interested. Before you go though, invite someone to share the time you plan to spend outside. As you read this 24-hour earlier glance in the review mirror of life, my wish for you is to think, “I can do that…I want to do that.”
Now, confession is healthy for a soul. My long-standing ambition has been to take a series of photos of wild turkeys in their native habitat. Seriously, have you ever seen just one turkey feather in the sunlight? The iridescence is stunning! Now put at least 5,500 of these iridescent feathers on a tom (male) weighing around 25 pounds and you understand the motivation behind this personal goal. To photograph turkeys in the wild go to a wild place. Near our home there are many wild places. My goal for yesterday was a 10,000-acre state park north of our house.
I have the gear…a suitable camera with a long lens, a tripod to steady it, a blind to conceal me and even a tripod folding chair. My wife gave it to me, it was very thoughtful of her. Then there is my secret turkey weapon. No turkey is harmed by it. It is a scratch turkey call. It consists of a hollow carbon rod on a wooden handle and a circular disk you “scratch” the carbon rod on. It sounds like a turkey to me. Now the good thing, all of this gear fits on my back. There are straps for the blind which fits in a lightweight backpack, a strap for the folding chair and the camera strap goes around my neck with the call in my coat pocket.
I got an early start…for me. But the turkeys were up and moving from the trees they had spent the night in long before I got there. Yes, turkeys “roost.” Imagine, a 15–25-pound bird flying onto a tree branch to settle for the night-safe from predators. At dawn, or when they chose, they can fly from their night perch to feed. You should know turkeys can fly up to 60 miles per hour…they can cover lots of territory quickly. When I arrived at the parking place, I was on the move into the turkey zone minutes later, all my gear, on my back, neck, shoulder or in my hand. Because many other animals make their life in the “turkey zone” it was not long before the sound of crashing bush reached my ears. My eyes never saw the deer. There was one, possibly more by the sound of breaking brush, they rapidly made room for my human form in the turkey district. At least, I thought it was the turkey district.
I thought this was the turkey zone. It will not be the last time I am wrong.
The white tails did not allow me to see them, but a medium sized flock of Tundra Swans did. My mind was not on the Tundra Swan right then…you know it was on turkeys. To my surprise, about 50 of the magnificent, wild swans flew past. Their flight pattern was due west. If you know about the Tundra, you also know that before they reach the Red River of the north, they swing to a northbound flight which will take them eventually north of the Arctic circle where they will nest for the season. When a person has reflected on yesterday it is possible to understand the noteworthy things. Seeing a flock of Tundra Swans on the last calendar day of winter is a major nature event. Tundra Swans are “twice a year” birds. They do not nest any place near wild turkeys. We see them only in spring and fall migration flights. My eyes witnessed a flock…possibly the only flock I will see on the spring migration. Then I was on turkey mode once more.
Following a deer trail led me to the spot. From the earlier sound of crashing brush, the deer I heard did not use the trail…I did. The spot was on the northwest side of a cluster of three small ironwood trunks. A flattened area of leaves on the same side told me I wasn’t the only one who found the area strategic. It this was a good place for deer to bed, I thought, it was good for me, I set the blind up. Needing stakes to hold it in the south east wind turned into a contest of strength. The ground was frozen. Later, after sitting above the frozen ground on my tripod folding chair, in the blind, it became clear that the frozen ground had chilled me.
As quietly as my hands and feet would allow, I set up the blind, the chair, the camera tripod and settled myself quietly into the blind to wait. The first minutes were filled with anticipation. When in the next minutes would the first turkey appear? With the sunshine at my back, I knew the iridescent beauty of turkey feathers would be captured by more than one photo. I took out the turkey call. The silence of the deep woods was broken by a sound heard over and over in the woods…a turkey call. I wondered, did it sound authentic? Could the real turkeys recognize the faux sound as the fake it was? I was quite certain they could-but hope was still alive…perhaps I could fool just one.
On my left, through the slit of the blind opening I could see the deer trail I had followed in to the spot. On my right, the tree covered hillside sloped downward toward an open area where I could see cattails. In front of me the tree filled landscape sloped slight upward. Trees, trees and more trees filled my vision. I began to wonder if I had chosen the wrong spot. In the distance the call of a Nuthatch came to my listening ears, a soft call of a Chickadee came shortly after. Then there was silence. Only the south east wind rustling the well-aged leaves of last year’s ironwood could be heard. When the wind came to a lull there was only deep silence. Have you listened to silence? Try it, you will like it. It was not long before crows and raven calls broke the silence. A crow can break the deepest silence-with one “caw.”
(The view from the blind.)
I tried many variations on my call…perhaps one would release the tom turkey from his distant location.
Now for the truth…there was no turkey for me…not on the final day of winter-even though it felt like spring. No iridescent feather, no silent strut. I got up from my chair before the frozen ground had completely stiffened my old joints.
Perhaps it was because this happened on the last day of winter. Driving home my thoughts were on the word failure. I had failed to get even one photo of the majestic turkey of the wild. I had not seen one. I had not even heard one…nor seen an iridescent feather. Yes, I felt like a failure. The feeling lingered the rest of the day.
Today, on the first day of spring a new thought came to me. It has strengthened as the day has gone by. Yesterday was not a failure. You can be a pessimist like I was yesterday and think I am delusional. It was a night’s sleep which helped to convince me yesterday was a not failure. Things look much different today. The only thing I did not get yesterday was a photo of a wild turkey.
I got something better.
Today I have been filled with a happy heart. It happened as I remembered yesterday.
One source for a happy heart comes from time outside. A happy heart puts a smile on our faces. Guess what, success looks different when the event is history. Reflection on life events usually reveals the truth. Yesterday, the last day of winter, I was given the gift of happiness. It came from sunshine, fresh air, the beauty of white birds destined to spend the next months north of the arctic circle, the sound of the wind, and sunlight on the bark of uncountable trees, a brush crushing white tail, all played a part in filling my heart with joy. I needed a night to sleep on it to realize the truth. Time outside does has a side effect: happiness.
Yesterday, God provided me with a happy heart… from time spent outside. Should this surprise us? It is His creation.
Today, on the first day of spring there is still a smile on my face. One day, perhaps there will be a photo of a wild turkey. In the mean while…no time outside is ever wasted. God uses it to fill our hearts with happiness.
A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit. Proverbs 15:13
Turkeys have many choices for tree perches in a deciduous forest. How many times has a turkey been in this tree?