This winter morning the water is so flat and reflective that it’s hard to tell where the shoreline stops and the lake water begins. There are no Canadian Geese (Birdicus Annoyicus) honking around in the water. There are no foxes trotting around the lake. I don’t see the doe with 2 fawns standing by the shore either. No hawks are flying overhead. Nary a beaver nor an otter grace the lake today. It’s just dead quiet out here, with the silvery storm light refracting in the fog to take all the harshness out of the light.

I don’t hear any bullfrog sounds. During the spring and summer, they call to each other back and forth across the lake, I suppose with challenges to fight, and maybe invitations to hookup. And you’d certainly never know frogs are in any kind of environmental trouble if you were listening at this lake in the summer. But soon we will hear their calls again while it is still yet freezing weather here in Georgia. Every year we are always surprised at how early the frogs appear again. How do they stand that freezing cold when they are still so small?

Then there is the otter and beaver(s) which visit us. I’ve been wondering: How does an otter, and a pair of beaver, make their way safely to this lake in the middle of our residential area? The two small feeder streams flowing into this lake go underground 1000 feet or so north by east from here. The animals have to come from downstream of us. The dam spillway outflow stream is very small, at the most 2 to 3 feet across and less than a foot deep. The nearest lake south that the outflow stream flows into is about 1/2 mile away. So how can they suddenly appear here on this lake with fox, dogs, and people surrounding them while getting here?

And speaking of things we don’t know: Is Honey Lake really even the name of this lake? It appears on many maps that I’ve seen, but is never named. The Honey Lake name comes from long time residents of the neighborhood, who in turn have had that information handed down to them from other more elderly local area residents. Allegedly, 55 or more years ago, this was a stocked fish camp lake that folks came up to in order to get away from the city. With the size of the fish pulled out of this lake, I believe that is true. And I guess Honey Lake sounds as good as any other name to me.

That’s enough wondering for now. Back to enjoying the view, and the peace and quiet.