Champion Mill Pond...a genesis
© 1997 Leonard Smith

I fell in love with this pond and surrounding woods many years ago. I came here often over the years, both alone and with my children. There are many things that draw me -- the birds, the fishing, and, especially, the peaceful beauty of this small pond.

Earlier this summer, the pond was drained. The runoff from 5 inches of rain, upstream in Colorado, threatened the community of Champion. I visited the spot several nights later. Gone was the sound of water going over the spillway. I could only imagine what the pond bed looked like (it was a dark night). I left feeling the loss of this lovely place, knowing that it would likely not be the same here for some time or perhaps...never.

Quite eagerly, I walked out onto the old bed. It was now cracked by surface drying, but still soft and spongy. This indicates that the ground below still holds water. All across the old pond, new life is taking hold. Nature is crafting a new landscape from her palette. What has gone is being replaced by something new. The Frenchman is still there -- a slow-moving stream that has already carved a channel in the old pond.

I left the pond bed and walked across the walkway that tops the Spillway. My next stop was the small wooded area just north of the old mill. It was a cool morning and, as I started down the stairs to the trail blazed by the SCORE camp kids years ago, I startled a bull snake lying in the sun. It startled me as much as I did it. I hesitantly watched as it slid noisily through the grass. I saw another one close by and, with a stick, prodded it to leave as well.

These woods have always been one of my favorite places to visit. The birds are interesting and, with the seasons, there is some change among them as summer visitors are replaced with winter guests. Of course, there are the year-round residents who tolerate the comings and goings of the migrants. But, there is much more here. As with all of nature, there is variety. For the naturalist, there can be endless hours of exploration. To me, this is the real wonder of the place. Nature is ever changing.

I walked along the trail and, in the dim light of the wood, I saw a young robin preening. Through the limbs above, a bright blue jay called raucously as it searched out its rowdy brothers.

My first glimpse of them was as I was walking back across the spillway. There were two of them -- spotted sandpipers in winter plumage already. Even in winter, they are here in the pool below the spillway, tails bobbing up and down. They probe the mud for dinner.

The southern approach to the old bridge is gone. The old bridge still stands. Woodbine still hangs across its rusty frame, its purple fruit ripened in the late summer sun. Startled turtles, also basking in the sun, entered the water as I approached.

Snow-on-the-mountain bloomed on the grassy slopes. It is a close relative of the showy poinsettia. Caterpillars of the Milkweed Tiger Moth and Red Milkweed beetle gnawed at the leaves of a nearby common milkweed. Absent were the caterpillars of monarch butterflies. It is nearing the time when they will begin their migration south to Mexico. Nearby, sipping nectar was an adult monarch, wearing the bright orange and black finery of the debutante. It is she who will make the journey south along with millions of others.

I looked about me at the changes that occurred in recent weeks. Apart from the dramatic changes of seasons, nature works at a slow pace. Yet, there is always change. Whether here or in your own backyard...whether you live in town or out on the farm, you have the opportunity to observe and study. From the dawn of life on this planet, it is ongoing. It is genesis. Whether you plant a flowerbed or a shelterbelt, you are part of it. It is in the wilderness that we find refuge for our souls. It is ours at which to marvel. Ours to protect and cherish.