Trail of a muskrat

Days of blue skies are an invitation to walk.
And, lacking any breeze to speak of, Christmas morning’s bright sunshine brought a curiosity that I answered with hiking boots, light jacket and camera.
Our pond, far enough from the house to require a short walk, but close enough to catch a glimpse from the kitchen window, always intrigues me. And although springtime’s frog population and the summer months’ basking turtles are far more “exciting” to watch, it holds a certain beauty in winter—
when the surface is stilled by ice, its life trapped beneath the surface.


The lightest layer of ice has formed across the water, smoothing the surface like peering through a glass—the leafy bottom easily seen beyond the icy needles.
Soon, the thickening ice will hide her paths, but the trail of bubbles caught beneath it mark her route in and out of the bank--perfectly round, clustered glassy beads of all shapes and sizes.
Though I haven’t seen her since late summer, I know she is here, beneath the ice, waiting for spring.