I would like to write a short postscript for the Fourth of July I had this year. It was full of the regular kabooms, blasts, mortar shells and concussive, percussive noises that infiltrated three evenings.

For one display we sat in folding chairs on a berm awaiting the spectacle to begin. It was a quiet evening. We first saw an owl fly across in front of us all. There were “ooohs” and “awwwws” for this bird’s silent flight.

We watched three great blue herons take off from a nearby pond and fly overhead. Personally, I was worried for their safety. Many individual firework shows had begun, and the low flying birds were right in the way for the bombs going off at the time.

I do talk to birds and squirrels and turtles and many other members of the natural world, so I yelled to the herons, “Fly fast and be careful.”

Don’t be concerned. They don’t talk back… most of the time.

We also heard killdeer making their killdeer calls in the field nearby. I hadn’t heard many around our house this year, so this was inspiring for me.

Behind us was a band of coyotes making their presence known to all. The youngsters were distraught in believing they were going to sneak up and get us with a silent attack.

Then, another band on the opposite side of the field began their chorus of howls, presenting us with a natural symphony. This was so relaxing and entertaining for me.

My favorite insect, fireflies, emerged with their on and off switches in full glory Halleluiahs. I love them. Watching them blinking and flashing was simple, silent, soundless and a modest approach to all that would soon ensue overhead.

When the display for which we were waiting finally began, all of the natural wonders were suddenly unnoticed. I honestly don’t know if they became silent, or they were watching the kaboomers too, or if I became mesmerized by the fireworks and suddenly forgot to listen for them.

I have one more amazing story to tell and then I shall move on. This story is so remarkable you probably won’t believe it.

On July 4, our family had our own simmered-down version of fireworks. At dusk, we had the small things that children like to mess around with… little zappers that pop when they hit the ground, sparklers, Roman candles, a bunch of screaming, flying things, and several animals that poop and “have the burning sensation of hemorrhoids.”

We started a few fountains and larger booming, flaring, flying objects when we saw a fawn walk out of the hedge row. It stopped, stock still, and regarded our presence.

Everyone stopped talking. There was no running around. We were all pondering the fawn’s reality and purpose. It stood just beyond the tree line staring at us and us staring at it.

The fawn wasn’t teeny-tiny and still had its spots so I couldn’t figure an age.

No one said a word.

The fawn slowly turned and walked back into the trees and disappeared… just like in the movie “Field of Dreams”.

I stood in awe of its presence. Unbelievable! Everyone was saying what a cool and amazing sight that was and were wondering why the fawn had peeked out of the trees to look at us.

For me, that was the excitement of the night… not all the noisemakers and poppers and flares and booms.

Beth Conner is a Miami County resident, teacher and outdoor enthusiast.

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