When the Coldest Night Conceals the Deepest Secrets: Inside Midwinter Distraction
And we would. We’d scrub with Dawn at dawn. We didn’t think about rabies or how wrong it was to feed wildlife (It was. It is.). We fed them only what they would eat on their own anyway — I remember that being partly the logic or the excuse or part of some greater plan — but maybe that too was a problem. We were kids more akin to the creatures of the wild than the humans who moved to it. The goal was to feed. What did it matter how the food was obtained?
The panfish routine was part of the season until it wasn’t. Like ice castles. Or the tin cans we’d punch holes into using a nail and hammer, then at night in a February much like tonight’s, we’d place candles inside those designs of holed stars, smiley faces, half-moons. And the light would shine through. Maybe the raccoons watched from a distance, wondering about fish while inside their burrows under feet of lake-effect snow. But that was years ago and states away.
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