Yesterday I found myself at a deserted Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield near Springfield, Missouri. For misanthropic reasons, I enjoy any park best when I’m the only person about.
Standing at this sign I was unprotected from the wind and the 40 mph gusts (per KSMU radio) tried to rob me of my $3 baseball cap. Looking straight ahead and slightly to the left, there is as pretty an Ozark springhouse as I can remember seeing. When I stepped inside it I heard something slip into the water and believe I could see a frog floating in the dim light. My night vision isn’t what it once was, and I was avoiding soaked boots on such a cool morning, but I now wish I wasn’t such a coward. All my frogs are asleep this time of year.
Walking across the windswept field to the springhouse, I couldn’t help but notice ample evidence of armadillo activity. I returned to my vehicle using a slightly different route and found one armadillo finished with its earthly digging.