Page 122 - ECOlogic Book

stepped toward the tractor. I put it in reverse and slowly backed away. She
kept walking toward the tractor. Finally, I said, “OK, tell me what you want
me to do.” She began to walk around in an area I hadn’t yet mowed. I
watched as she circumscribed an area maybe twenty feet in diameter. I put
the tractor in gear and slowly went around the area she showed me. An

island. And now, and island with weeds so tall that its safety was not
imaginary.

That night at dinner, I told Jan about the brave killdeer, facing down the
lawn tractor. “I’m not going to mow there anymore“, I said simply. “In fact,
I’m not going to mow anywhere, unless I can do it the way I want.”

Surprisingly, Jan agreed that I could do it any way I wanted to. But I didn’t

believe her. The next time I mowed, about three weeks later, I tested her
sincerity. I mowed around a long dogleg, about five feet wide, right into the
middle of the back yard, where, in the springtime, there’s a natural
watercourse. When I came to a corner of the property, instead of mowing
into the corner, I mowed out from it. Another dogleg appeared leading out
to where the water meter sticks up, and one along the Invisible Fence lines
so we wouldn’t have to slalom the flags. I continued to mow around the
killdeer safety island, which by now boasted some very mature weeds.

I’ve never seen the killdeer in that place again, though I still respect her
boundaries. Was her performance, that day with the tractor, advanced
planning? Was she preparing for next spring’s exodus across the lawn? Was
she saying, “Next spring, all four will make it!”? I waited for Jan’s reaction
to my creative mowing. To my surprise, she didn’t complain. Knowing that
Jan likes butterflies, I began talking about how the thistle attracts them, and
about how the dear critters of the field will now have little migration
corridors across the lawn. I knew Jan’s love of animals would serve me well
in this anticipated argument.

The argument never happened. Each time I mowed, I tested more, adding
another couple of feet of width to this dogleg, extending that one a bit,
starting a new island in the middle of a large expanse of lawn. Each time,
Jan said nothing.

Having spoken for butterflies, I started to notice them more myself,
swerving to miss them when I encountered them in the path of my mowing,

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