Observing my Husband's Love for God's Creation by Sandra Rafuse

 

We were on our way to a winter holiday weekend in Winnipeg. It was a beautiful day. Bright sunshine bounced off the snow and the air was cold and crisp. We drove past fields littered with leftover sunflower stalks from the previous fall's harvest. Unexpectedly my husband, Bob, lifted his hand up to the front window and pointed outward. "Look at that snowy owl," he said. "It's a female." I did what any person in their right mind probably have done upon hearing that remark. I quickly bent forward and simultaneously lifted my arms up around my head to protect my face. Who wouldn't? At that time in my life, the only time I would see an owl through the front window of a moving car was if it was hitting the windshield! This pretty much sums up how much attention I gave to noticing wildlife or bird life of any kind in those days. But my husband, Bob, paid attention all the time. That owl was at least a mile down the road, sitting on the top bar of a telephone pole and he saw it right away. That didn't help me any as I had no idea where to even start looking to find it. It wasn't until we were driving past the pole it was sitting on that I recognized it, in the last place I'd expect to see an owl anyway.

When God created the heavens and the earth, He must have had Bob foremost in His mind. He must have known how Bob would love all of His creation, from the trees, the plants, the rivers and lakes, to the moon, the stars, the animals and the birds. I'm realizing that observing how my husband embraces God's creation opens my eyes and my mind to enjoy it more than I ever have before. So for me, right now, watching and listening to Bob is what has been filling my creative container.

The Number Two Highway comes toward Rockglen from the north and curves into town to head east. It turns south on Columbus Drive and as soon as it does, you can see the hills at the end of the highway heading past the local gas station. Almost every time we drive down this street (and it's often), Bob says, "Aren't the hills beautiful?" or "Isn't that a wonderful sight?" There are many hills all around the land down here and he is familiar with many of them. Several years ago Bob planted a few spruce trees and several yucca  plants on the sides of a couple of the hills.  The yucca plants lived all this time and only died off about four years ago. Four of the trees have survived and one looks very good. I've been thinking of buying a small metal plaque that says "Bob's Tree" and attaching it to its trunk.

I have come a long way in learning to identify the wildlife and birds my husband points out to me every time we are travelling in a vehicle together. It took years for me to be able to see them. To really see  them. . .to locate them within seconds of his mentioning them.  "See the deer?" he asks, and I do. I see two of them standing on the highway, looking straight at us. So I quickly look to the left and to the right sides of the road because I know there are probably other deer nearby that might step up onto the highway in front of us at any moment and they have to be watched out for, too. "See the coyote?" he says, and I do. My eyes catch him racing away at high speed, putting distance between us, seeking safety in the fields. "See the sharptails (sharp-tailed grouse) buried in the snow?" he questions, and I do. I spot the tops of their dark backs pushing up out of the snow cover as they huddle near each other for warmth. It pleases me that I have learned to spot the wildlife and birds Bob loves so much

The most exhilarating sighting of a bird I have ever seen of my own happenstance happened one summer afternoon at a lake in southern British Columbia. I was ambling along the beach, paying no particular attention to anyone or anything. I glanced up and saw, to my astonishment, an osprey hovering over a spot above the water that had his full attention. His feet were extended out in front of him, and his sharp, curved talons were spread out. I stared with wide open eyes. He was several feet above the heads of a few children playing in the water and not far from some adults on the beach. Without warning, he plunged into the water and disappeared from sight. Several jaw-dropping seconds later, the tops of his wings broke through the surface. Then the rest of each wing surged up and out, and with powerful strokes of his long, narrow wings, he rose up out of the water and started flying away from the area. I almost didn't notice the large fish he held tightly in his talons as he rose higher and higher until he drifted out of sight. And other than myself, no one, not one person, saw what had unfolded so close to them. I saw him when no one else did.

Photo at top: Osprey by Dennis Derringer on Unsplash

Sandra Rafuse lives in the small town of Rockglen, Saskatchewan, with her husband, Bob, a Gordon Setter named Sadie, and a Peregrine falcon named Pete. She is a retired teacher, an amateur writer, and is thoroughly enjoying being a member of InScribe Christian Writers' Fellowship.