Written July 22, 2018
It’s Sunday, the day I get to sleep without the benefit of the alarm going off. I’m starting to see that, yes, it is a benefit. When I awake later than normal on Sunday I wonder why I set an alarm during the rest of the week. I don’t need to. I don’t need to be anywhere at any specific time. I think about the dogs depending upon me to feed them at 7 AM, but they could get used to a later time as well.
So why do I set an alarm so early? I know why I do. If I don’t set the alarm I sleep later and later, even though I don’t go to sleep much later at night. When I don’t set the alarm I lose two hours of productive morning time. I get more done in the first two hours of the day than I do during the remainder of the day.
Most People Miss the Best Part of the Day
Mostly, though, when I don’t set an alarm I miss the first hour or so before sunrise. The hour when the natural world is waking up and coming alive. I miss seeing the world unfold its arms and stretch as the sun starts to rise and the birds start to sing. It’s a magical moment.
I went outside for that small slice of a miracle today. Lately it has been hot and hazy, and I’ve missed the clear blue cerulean sky. As I was making coffee I saw the glimpse of a pink cotton ribbon above the oak trees. It’s been a while since I remember having a photo worthy sunrise. I grabbed my phone and went outside to see if I could capture the pink and peach tones before they disappeared. Somehow the photos never even come close to the brilliant colors of sunrise through the pine trees but I keep trying to capture it.
A Different World Awaits
I walked off the porch and wasn’t yet at the bottom step before I heard the familiar sounds of rustling leaves on the ground. The noises were loud, as if the leaves were complaining about being rudely disturbed from their slumber in their ground floor bedroom. The sun was rising but it was still dim enough to bathe everything that wasn’t above the tree line in a foggy gray color. It was hard to see, but I soon spied movement in the direction of the crunching leaves, and the familiar half-moon shape of a large gray shell.
It is amazing how close to the color of the world around it an armadillo’s shell is. It could be a perfect camouflage. But of what use is that when they are so nearsighted and noisy? Most nocturnal animals have developed such a color as a means of not being detected by other animals, but in the case of the nine banded armadillo the color is useless. Their hard outer shell is their protection. I can’t think of many animals that prey on them because of that prehistoric-looking outerwear.
Nightlife Greets the Morning
I watched as it moved along my fence line in search of grubs and insects. Maybe acorns, but I think the squirrels had beaten him to them.
I walked outside without my shoes so I returned to the house to get them. When I came back outside the sun had provided a little more light and the armadillo was still searching for food. I walked outside my hurricane fence and took pictures of him as he worked inside of my fence.
At one point he was only 5 feet away from me and still didn’t notice me. What kind of deterrent has this creature developed that lets him noisily root around above ground without the apparent benefit of sight or sense of smell? Still somehow they’ve managed to exist since prehistoric times.
Learning to Appreciate the Little Things
Eventually I tired of watching him go about his business. At one point he stopped and stood on his hind legs like a rabbit and sniffed the air. Then he went right back to work without sensing any danger or food.
I walked back inside the fence and stood at the open gate waiting for him to attempt his escape. He rooted around for a few more minutes then stopped by the oak tree. He stopped rooting and looked up.
It was lighter outside now and easier to see him. It’s amazing how much the world changes in the first 30 minutes of sunrise. The pink was no longer in the sky. The yellow color of the sun had started to take over and the dark blue sky was shedding its night clothes for the lighter blue jean colors. The birds had already warmed up their vocal chords and the forest was alive with the sounds of an avian choir letting me know how excited they were to see the coming day. The day was just beginning for the majority of Earth’s creatures.
Nature Knows How to Point the Way
Had I slept any longer I would have missed this snapshot of the world. In the gap between the end of the night and the beginning of the day the nocturnal and diurnal creatures mingle for one small second of time and the celebration is melodious.
As the armadillo realized that it was getting to be his time for slumber, he seemed to stop and take note of his world. I was still blocking his way out of the gate and he suddenly noticed me after all this time. As I watched to see what he would do, he broke into a fast run for his home. Under my house.
