Heron

I yearn for the days of Eden.

As I walked my dogs down the path in the woods leading to the first of the ponds that lie in the fields behind our house, I took in the sight of the large tree fallen across the front of the pond, turtles lying in the sun covering most of the tree. The dogs each carried their yellow tennis ball, looking back at me, watching creatures at the tops of trees (how do squirrels get up there?). The turtles s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d out their necks, alarmed at our presence, then one of them, too fearful to relax with the giants coming by, plopped! off the log into the water, followed by most of the others—some baby size, some bigger from years of growth. “Plop! Plop! Plopplopplop!” At the end one or two brave little beasts stretched their necks even further, watching us, perhaps on patrol, then as we passed, they lowered their little heads, clinging even tighter to the log.

Turtles Warming on Tree

Passing that smaller natural pond, I thought of the ducks who had arrived just the previous year and, I suppose, spent the winter in warmer climate. Now I wondered if they have already built their nest, preparing to start the family that must come from their relationship. Smiling at the thought of little ones hopping into the pond after Mamma and Daddy, I hoped they have several babies who all do well in the ponds, this smaller, natural one, and the one built since we moved here, bigger, below the hill that housed the woods.

 Then, I stopped, the dogs ahead looking around, then turning back, fluorescent balls in their mouths, gazing up at me. “What’s up?”

 I wondered, do turtles eat duck eggs? Of course, they do, and my heart hurt a bit for the duck couple. Oh, maybe they will build a nest beyond reach of the turtles. But we know the water houses lots of turtles; probably finding the eggs would be a treat. If one found the next, a rush (well, a rush of turtles?) would likely find their way to finish off the unexpected meal. You can’t blame a turtle for being a turtle—but, still. . . . . birds bond with their eggs. I’ve seen them grieve at the loss of a nest. How sad for the birds if, indeed, their unhatched eggs become food for the turtles who I so enjoy watching sun themselves on so many of the days we walk by their big, fallen tree.

I picked up my walk again as the dogs trotted on ahead, and realized that, truly, I yearn for the days of Eden, for the days before evil duped humankind into believing the knowledge of evil worth more than obedience to the Creator.

  To Adam, God said, “You can eat from any tree in the garden except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” No where in Eden, in the creation God spoke and formed, was any animal named for food.

 Until. . .

 After Adam and Eve disobeyed God and introduced death into the world of life, they suddenly realized that, though they had worn no clothes in their entire lives, they were naked. When God found them in the cool of the evening, saw their pitiful attempt with fig leaves to cover their nakedness, He gave them clothes of skin, and so killed the animal in the history of the world, the sacrifice of a nonhuman creature for human sin. Many other repercussions came from that first rebellion; but as I watched the turtles watching me, I thought of that first animal death.

 Gone the days when harmony ruled creation, when ancestors of today’s lion grazed beside the sheep’s forefathers. Death not only took humans and animals from the earth, but they then became common for getting food—for humans and many animals as well.

 I would lie to say I don’t like a good steak; on my own, I eat enough chicken for a small city. But, oh, when eating that tasty food, I don’t think of the source. No, animals are not on a level with people; God did not breathe into them the breath of life nor does the His Spirit live in them. Still, before the fall, before that first sin, God looked multiple times at His creation—expanses, environment, plants, animals—and pronounced it all good and, finally, very good. In Eden, Adam and Eve ate plants. No creatures had to fear them, unlike now. Still, I have seen cattle come to the fence for a head scratch, enjoying interaction with people with no idea their fate; for many people, chickens are pets on the level of my beloved dogs.

 Even thousands of years later, when Jesus assured His followers of their importance to the Father, He did so by telling them “Not one sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father.” (Matthew 10:29) Jesus makes sure they know how much more important they are than many sparrows—but, still, God knows the knowledge of the fate of each sparrow.                   

Duck Couple

And, I believe, ducks.

 And now I watched the duck pair swim away; like the turtles, I cannot convince them the dogs and I mean no harm. Some days I don’t see them at all and worry for them. A blue heron has lived his (her?) lonely existence in the ponds and woods for a few years now. All of them watch closely as the dogs and I walk our route, but so far, at least, they return to their posts—the fallen tree, the woods, the high grass—and greet us another day. 

 As I realize the difficulty of life in nature—these are not the first wild animals we’ve seen—I yearn for the days of Eden, when creation existed in perfect harmony with its Creator, all of creation, including God’s highest art form, humankind. And as we continue our walk, I whisper a prayer for them all, our little turtles whose necks stretch so far it seems they will pop out of their shells, the ducks, whose little hearts would break at the loss of their young, the heron, who has an attitude when we disrupt him, but who glides above the ponds so smoothly, I usually stop and try to get a picture of that beauty and fail to show how amazing she (he?) is.

 And I whisper a prayer of gratitude. I remember that we are promised new days of Eden. If the first book in the Bible describes the tragedy of first sin and the loss of relationship with our Creator, the last book describes the time coming when a crystal river flows with life and the tree of life again produces fruit. Then the promise:  “There will be no longer any curse.”

The curse of Genesis will be gone.

 And then, from the Old Testament book Isaiah, “And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, And the leopard will lie down with the young goat, And the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; And a little boy will lead them.  (Isaiah 11:6) Again, the animals will live together, not enemies of each other.

 So I yearn for those days, and I believe those days will come. Oh, there’s a lot to happen between now and then—but hope doesn’t always have a timeline.

Someday we’ll know. Till then, the prophet Isaiah looked forward and promised, “’Comfort, O comfort My people,’ says your God.’” (Isaiah 40:1)  Though talking to Jerusalem, the restoration of paradise is for us all; the promise is a new heaven and new earth; the promise is that our Creator has a new creation for us; the promise is that this WILL come, not just that it might.

Till then, I will look forward to days of Eden, and be grateful to a Creator and Designer who cares so much for us that our new home will be free of pain and tears, provided again by the one who made the first Eden.

And I will enjoy the turtles and ducks, my dogs and horses, the heron and squirrels, and be grateful.