Today we’re wrapping up “Mother Words Week” here at Cribsheet with Ann’s essay about her son’s love for “all things amphibious”

Critter Love

From an early age, Alex had an incredible eye for detail. He has been able to spot the tiniest Box Elder bug, the squirmiest snake and see the flash of a minnow before anyone else. He spent much of his early childhood squatting in the yard—diaper-laden shorts nearly touching the grass, his pudgy thighs supporting his tireless examination of the soil.

When Alex was about nine, an interest in “all things amphibian” blossomed. He spent afternoons at the library inspecting the shiny drawings and colorful photos in the DK series of animal books. His grandfather sent him clippings about nature camps in Vermont and we all began to picture a grown-up Alex photographing rare animal species for National Geographic. One summer afternoon, I was cleaning out the car after a weekend visit to the family cabin. As I collected cold french fries and sticky Dairy Queen cups from the rear seat, I was horrified to discover the skeletal remains of a frog in the cup holder of the minivan. At the time, Alex disavowed any knowledge of this animal or responsibility for its demise or presence in our vehicle.

A couple of years later, we spent a week up north with the cousins at the grandparents’ new lake cabin. Its wooded lot and wider beach provided a fresh environment for scientific discovery and animal habitat. The children filled open Rubbermaid containers with miniature toads, “gardener” snakes, and crunchy beetles. Alex’s prize find was a salamander, affectionately named “Black Jack”. He kept his new friend in a special container, stroked him (it?) occasionally and provided a steady supply of leaves, grasses and lake water for Black Jack’s health and general well being. The evening before our departure, we told the kids to return all their creatures to the wild and rinse out the containers. The trip home was uneventful. We were unpacking the car in our driveway a few hours later, when I noticed Alex crawling under the back seat of the van. He turned to me with a panicked look, “I can’t find Black Jack!” After noisy outbursts from both parents, Alex confessed that Black Jack had spent the previous night in the cabin, sleeping comfortably and securely behind the door of a small, hand-crafted birdhouse on the family room bookshelf. He smuggled his slimy little friend into the car during the flurry of packing and bed-making. Sadly, Black Jack was never seen again. We figure he made a break for it during our brief stop at Dairy Queen in Albany, Minnesota.

After this, Alex was all but strip-searched before the next trip home from the lake. We checked all seven cup holders and made him sit in the middle seat. He assured us he was empty handed. About four miles down the road, my husband, Steve, swore as he swerved sharply on the two-lane county road. A toad had just landed on his bare thigh. With the van on the shoulder of the road, an aggressive search was made. The big-eyed boy with the guilty look was patted down. Eventually, a wriggling family of little toadlets was found, happily ensconced in a tiny Beanie Baby backpack on the floor of the car. Alex wept as his father unceremoniously freed the toads in an adjacent cornfield. The rest of the ride home was quite somber.

Alex’s passion for critters eventually abated. We were surprised and somewhat saddened when his interest in small slimy creatures was replaced by the digital images of Pokemon on his Game Boy video game system and later, skiing and girls. Now nineteen, he no longer seems destined for that job with National Geographic. I wonder what happened to that little boy who used to sit on his haunches in our back yard. He never asks me to pick up books at the library. He reads only ski magazines now. We brought that birdhouse home from the cabin and put it in Alex’s room. I like to think he looks at it and occasionally wonders whatever became of Black Jack.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 22nd, 2008 at 9:38 am and is filed under Main, Mother Words Essays. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.