The Armadillo Omen

I’m not a superstitious person, mind you.  But when you’ve been at least well-rounded a person to have considered all different sorts of ideas, well then you haven’t all-together dismissed anything.

As I entered into the Lost Bridge Trail, I heard the snap of a twig on the ground and looked down to my left.  Not but ten feet or so away, an armadillo skirmished about in the beginning brush of the woods.  Right there!  I figure armadillos to be relatively harmless, but I felt so uneasy in that moment that I almost turned back and took the Shady Oaks Trail, which looked much more friendly and inviting.

As I looked up into the Lost Bridge Trail, at the dark hanging canopies and the path that disappeared behind the first of many curves, I had cold feet.  Throughout the trip, I would see around four more armadillos.  Perhaps I should have given in to superstition and accepted this recurring theme in my visit as an omen to turn back.  I eventually would, though, with no harm come to me.

But do you ever wonder if that rattling in the marsh is a pool of snakes?  That the movement of that little branch is a jumping spider, repositioning itself to leap?  That the cacophony coming from the bushes and the sky are conspiring?  Or not even conspiring, so much, as that they know something you don’t.  About some lurking beast just beyond the shroud of nature, that you remain oblivious to.

The whole trip, I was quite unnerved.  I thought several times of turning back, and just when I was about to give in, I saw it.  There, peaking about behind one last turn, concealed by a hanging branch, was the beginning of a bridge.

Not a terribly long bridge, mind you.  Not short, though.  Within the narrow, stretched-out bridge, though, I felt vulnerable…to the marsh below me, the branches above me, and the insects swarming around me.

I simply felt vulnerable…

The Rickety Bridge

On this rickety bridge

I place my weight.

And with this rickety bridge

I trust my fate.

Look at the birds of the air,

at how they fly,

living life without worry or care.

They eat as the Good Lord provides. Why

do I question You, Lord? Why

do I question You, Lord? Why

do I question You, Lord? Why?

Tell me…why.

This world so unknown to me,

dirt and filth is all I see.

Earth on my shoes,

sweat on my brow,

I’m concerned with the way I look

but I can’t see how—

see how the lilies of the field grow

with no vanity.

And yet their breath-taking beauty shows

How breath-taking they can be.  Why

do I question You, Lord?  Why

do I question You, Lord?  Why

do I question You, Lord?  Why?

Tell me…why.

Why does the thought

of fall-

-ing scare me so?

Inside those familiar walls

I breathe easily

‘Cause I’m sure of my security.

But tell me why

I question You, Lord.

[I went to Circle B Bar Reserve for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes.]