The current state of the union cannot take away every pleasure in life.

In my neck of the woods,  there are five does raising fawns. Single moms, all of them, as that is just how nature dictates this is done despite the Disney version of the world.

Throughout the trees, and in one inconvenient spot in the garage, the birds are rearing their fledgling offspring.

A pair of younger, hungry great horned owls are obnoxiously screeching throughout the evening hours — a sound only slightly more shrill than the call of the woodpeckers in the old oaks.

It’s spring, and this is life when people take time to stop, step outside and sit on their front porches.

I am no expert of wildlife, nor do I purport to know every call in the distance. That doesn’t mean I do not appreciate the music that is made from this untamed orchestra.

Life outside, and away from the constant bombardment of political posturing and revelations that the world is coming to an end, is far more appealing than most of what is afforded from modern convenience. 

Owls, once thought to be harbingers of death by certain native tribes and symbols of higher wisdom by the Greeks, glide seemingly effortlessly from one limb to the next, scouring the ground for anything scampering about.

Fawns, while they seldom seem to play with their counterparts, frolic through the grass ignoring their mother’s calls, as any child is want to do.

The mockingbirds continue to peck at, pluck at or generally annoy any other animal – no matter the size – that encroaches their territory.

The turkeys, by this later hour, have long passed their time to scratch for food here. But they will return in the morning in their never ending quest for a meal.

Stress comes at us all. It builds as we are consumed by the concrete and steel that laid the foundation for our society.

For once, the cure for much of this that comes with modern life doesn’t have a laundry list of nasty side effects — except maybe a mosquito bite or two. 

It’s time to simply spend a few more minutes with grass beneath our feet and trees overhead.

Jason Collins is the editor at the Bee-Picayune and Goliad Advance-Guard  and can be reached at 361-343-5221, or at