One of the joys of my new country life, I’ve discovered, is watching the critters that roam around out here.
Some critters, that is. Not snake critters. Thankfully, I’ve only encountered one of those since we moved to the sticks six months ago. It didn’t launch me into cardiac arrest only because I was seated atop my trusty riding lawnmower.
I’m also quite glad I haven’t seen any wild boar critters. I’m pretty sure those porcine devils sometimes root and snort around in our woods, but I plan to remain in denial about that, thank you very much.
I do, however, get a charge out of watching the turkeys and deer. (Whoa, steady there, all you hunters. Stop that excessive salivating right now.)
All this nature stuff is pretty new to me, so I get excited when I see real, live deer and turkeys just walking around. Growing up, I only saw them mounted on somebody’s wall or in the freezer section at Krogers.
The closest thing to wildlife I observed as a kid was an occasional glimpse of the elderly man next door shuffling through his kitchen in his boxer shorts.
I did have a teenage encounter with an angry, hissing possum in our yard one night. I was getting home a wee bit late from a date and that experience was all the punishment I needed for breaking my curfew.
Now, however, I am a country girl and hardly a day goes by when I don’t spot deer, turkey or rabbits, rabbits and more rabbits on our property.
My observations have led me to conclude this: I wouldn’t want to be one of these paranoid, fearful critters.
They do, of course, have good reason to think everyone is out to get them. The ones that weren’t paranoid are probably dead.
Even when deer and turkeys are just hanging out in the pasture and don’t know I’m anywhere near, they act like they just downed a case of Red Bull energy drinks.
Just this morning, I was surreptitiously watching half a dozen turkeys stroll by when suddenly, thunder rumbled in the skies above. What ensued was a turkey version of what happens when the doors of Walmart are opened on the Friday after Thanksgiving.
Wings flapping, birds crashing into each other, each running everywhere and nowhere as fast as possible.
I glanced out the window of my study the other day and spotted some deer about 50 yards from our house. I got the binoculars to see if perchance they were flossing my beautiful lilies out of their greedy little teeth. They weren’t.
The deer were snacking on pasture grass, and after every single nibble, they raised their heads and nervously looked all around as if they were thinking, “What’s that? Who’s after me? Who’s gonna put my head on their wall?”
No, I wouldn’t want to be a jittery deer or turkey. But sometimes I sure do act like one.
I let fear suck way too much joy out of my life. Blessings sometimes barely bless me because I’m so afraid I might, at any moment, lose one of them.
What if my husband loses his job? What if my cancer comes back? What if something awful happens to someone I love? What if … what if … what if?
Wild creatures seem to spend a whole lot of time and energy running away and hiding, but I don’t want to live like that. Unlike them, I don’t have to.
Fear is most often a choice.
Over and over in His Word, God tells us not to be afraid. If I really trusted Him, I wouldn’t be.
All I can say about that convicting truth is, “I believe Lord; help my unbelief.”