The surface of the lake was perfectly still as I approached from the dirt path. Quite close to the water grew a cluster of tall, yellow flowers, appearing, with their added reflection, twice as abundant. They looked like daffodils but it was June 4th—too late for that flower to bloom.
As I went closer, curious to see what they were, one flower toppled completely over from the bottom of its stem. Startled, I looked for an explanation. There was no wind. None of the other flowers had moved. Then the iris—for that’s what it was—took sail on the lake. A brown nose of the culprit who had felled the blossom broke the surface of the water. Nose and flower swam quickly eastward. I followed along the shore, trying to keep up; curious now to know—was it a beaver? –a muskrat? What did it intend to do with that yellow iris?
The creature’s body was shorter than the stem it carried, too short, I thought, to be a beaver. Perhaps it was still young? I needed a glimpse of its tail to know for sure. I stepped closer to the water’s edge. “What are your plans for that flower?” I asked it. “Will you eat it? Or weave it into your home?”
With a splash, the brown nose disappeared, dragging the stem below the surface.
A clump of trees blocked my way, just where I guessed the animal was heading. It was the place where the lake ended—where a trickle of water crossed under the path into the woods. I hurried around the trees and back to the water’s edge. No brown nose, no stem appeared. I waited a while but then, with a sigh, continued my walk, disappointed that I could not discover the creature’s species, or its purpose in harvesting the flower.
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