Meandering in Mohegan

I don't know how you're fixed for diversions as we continue to strive to flatten the curve in combating COVID-19 in terms of puzzles, books, books on puzzles, puzzles you've created from taking scissors to books....you get the idea. (I was going to claim the previous sentence was sarcasm, but sarcasm has gotten a pretty bad name in recent days). 

Television is fine but also pretty finite after awhile so I try to go for a walk every day, weather permitting, and I use the time to regroup, rather than to decompress, as I don't feel put-upon by the protective measures we're all using because I keep my eye on the prize which, to me, is someday to not have to do any of this anymore. Besides, there are a lot of folks in a lot of different places and spaces smack in the middle of harm's way so that I'm not.

Like you, I've watched the news reports on TV with folks mostly unmasked who do not maintain anything close to the recommended social distance, demanding 'liberation' from their elected leaders' preventative policies and practices which they see as oppressive. 

To my eyes, the protestors seem to be mostly white men (takes one to know one) who are very unhappy that the government is telling them what they can do with their own bodies. I'd be curious to know what women watching them make of that reaction.  

On Saturday, wearing gloves and a mask (but carrying no trick or treat bag) I popped up to Mohegan Park because the day was maybe the nicest we'd had all April, and I wanted to stretch my legs hiking around Spaulding Pond and see how well springtime was progressing even as we were distracted by our health concerns. 

The two playscapes, one near the upper parking lot and the other near the beach, were police-taped off out of an abundance of caution but there were plenty of children with parents and caregivers taking the air and soaking up the sunshine. It's still April and between the weather we've had and for that same abundance of caution reason, the fountain near the flagpole is still wearing its winter protective wrap. 

There were a reasonable number of men and women fishing with a youngster or two holding a rod and reel. Fishing is serious relaxation and as I recall from my own earliest years as a child, both bait and patience are needed in large quantities. You can probably guess which one of those was in short supply. 

Billy Bass ain't got nothing on Tommy Trout

The adult fishermen were practicing excellent social distancing scattered along the pond's banks but judging from the lack of bobbins bobbing it seemed the trout were doing an excellent job of sheltering in place. 

Out just beyond one of the bubblers near the beach at the pond was a skewer of egrets doing their own fishing. Insert your own 'egrets, I've had a few but then again too few to mention' joke here. The egrets seemed to be enjoying their diving as much as their catching and I was enjoying all of it.

I had a pocket full of peanuts for squirrels and (hopefully) chipmunks I'd encounter as I made my circuit around the pond but it wasn't until the third lap, from under the enclosed pavilion that hosts so many summer barbecues, that a solitary chipmunk made an appearance. 

It took a few steps towards me, waited while I fumbled with the bag in my pocket and tossed it a peanut which it grabbed on the first bounce and disappeared underneath the building to pop out again some thirty seconds later with a second chipmunk. I smiled under my mask at this twofer as I realized it's not just us who are in this together.
-bill kenny