Incredible as it may seem, last week I did not give a loaf of bread to my daughter Shannon. (So far, there have been no complaints, but I’m waiting.) Instead, as promised, I gave a loaf to Lee Gilman, my Food Pantry buddy, who very kindly gives me a ride to the Food Pantry during the cold months when I can’t ride my bike. Even more kindly, she told me that she would be happy to give me a ride year round, that she enjoys my company. It was certainly high time to give that woman a loaf of bread. 

Lee Gilman lives about a mile up the road from me, and it’s a lovely if hilly walk. The lovely part is going across the causeway that separates the Upper Narrows Pond from the Lower Narrows Pond, two clear bodies of water that look more like lakes than ponds. 

In fact, the Lower Narrows Pond is very deep in spots. Once I jumped off a float, and down, down, down I went, expecting to spring up when I hit the bottom. Except I never hit the bottom. When the water became very cold and my ears started to hurt a little, I decided I better head back up to the surface. Good choice. Later, looking at a depth chart, I saw that where I had jumped the water was 100 feet deep, and at its deepest, the Lower Narrows is 106 feet. 

A glance at a Maine government lake survey of the Lower Narrows Pond provided me with additional information, some of which I didn’t know. For example, I knew about the eels, minnows (they are in every lake in Maine, it seems), perch, and bass. I didn’t know about the salmon and the lake trout, and I certainly didn’t know about the freshwater sculpin. I admit it—I’d never heard of freshwater sculpin until I read the survey. Then, among others, there are the pickerel, white suckers, and hornpouts, this last one sounding like a hobbit name from The Fellowship of the Ring. 

All that life beneath the surface of a “pond” that covers 255 acres. (The Upper Narrows covers 279 acres and is only 54 feet at its deepest.) And there is more life, of course, some of which can’t be seen with the human eye. Then there are my favorites—the ducks and the loons and a rascally beaver dubbed “Bucky” by my friend Jim Leavitt. 

Bucky is quite the enterprising fellow. Being a beaver, it is his job to dam things, and he takes his job seriously. Bucky (and his family) lives at the far end of the Upper Narrows Pond, near where Jim lives, and Bucky has decided that it is his duty to dam the culvert that goes under the causeway separating the Upper Narrows Pond from the Lower Narrows Pond. Let’s just say that when the water on the Upper Narrows started to rise, the humans living on the Upper Narrows were not impressed. 

Down came the dam. Up went another. In Elmer Fudd fashion, the humans decided to show Bucky a thing or two. They blocked the culvert with a thick wire mesh. No problem for Bucky. The mesh just provided a stronger support for the beaver to wow the humans with his damming artistry. And, in Bugs Bunny fashion, Bucky even nipped a few pieces of pressure-treated wood that some homeowners had left on their lawn. 

And so the battle continued for quite a while. I am happy to report that the humans did not resort to killing Bucky and his family, and I think Bucky eventually gave up. I’ll be seeing Jim this weekend and will ask him how it all ended. (Or if it has ended.) 

Right now, of course, the Upper and Lower Narrows are frozen. I drove to Lee’s house to deliver the fresh bread, but yesterday, a fine, sunny March day, the dog and I took a walk to the causeway to see what was going on. 

We didn’t see fish or loons or Bucky. What we saw was an expanse of  gray and white rimmed with dark green trees and some houses and cottages.

Meanwhile, we are all waiting for spring.