The Pantanal Safari: Summers on the Swamp: My Water Story

Hi Everyone, I was inspired by other people's water stories and decided to share my own.
To give you some background it is about my experiences as a child at a nature day camp I went to many summers during my childhood. It was at a place called Tennant Lake Interpretive Center located on these freshwater wetlands by a river. I remember being very confused as to why it was called a lake when it was covered mostly in trees and shrubs and lily pads but loved exploring the area nonetheless. I enjoyed it so much that I went back one high school summer and volunteered as an assistant for the same nature day camps I use to enjoy so much! So here is my story about my most memorable night at the lake and a few pictures from my

I held my mint tea closer to my face, warming my hands on the plastic much as I lightly blew along the surface to cool the water. It was nearly time, the sun had set and the stars were already in their places. “Ok” Birdman said, “lets start walking”. So we started walking, our feet making a soft crunching sound on the gravel with each step. We were trying to be as quiet as possible in search of a great reward. We reached the bridge over a small slough and the group came to a halt. In silence we stood, scared to breathe as though the tiniest fragment of sound would ruin it all. The water was a glassy surface beneath us, it seemed inconceivable that we would be lucky enough to witness something ruin this pristine stillness. “SLAP” I jumped at the sudden jolt of sound. We had heard it! I looked at my peers, all of our eyes wide with excitement. After many summers of missing my lucky moment I had finally heard the mythical beaver tail slap. I felt inexplicably gratified, my patience, hope and waiting had paid off and instilled with a new sense of wonder and excitement. As we walked out to the end of the boardwalk and held a lighter to the swamp gas we collected and blue flame appeared I felt this sense of wonderment extend beyond myself to all of this mucky and wonderful land.

Ten years later the interpretive center at Tennant Lake lay boarded up. A casualty of state budget cuts. Children no longer quietly trek out to the boardwalk at night to hear the slap of a beaver tail or see the pale blue flame of swamp gas.The naturalists that taught me about the wonders of the land are no longer leading expeditions to pass on their passion to the youth. But the lake and the wetland will always remain. Perhaps one day I’ll hold the hand of my child as we quietly trek along that familiar trail at night. We’ll go to the small bridge over the slough to wait quietly for that magical moment where their eyes are opened. And when I see that spark of wonderment I’ll know another pale blue flame of curiosity is lit for life.