Tales of Feral Youth

I was very young. It was one of my first forays into the deeper woods alone. I had somehow eluded my mothers watchful eye (there were five others devising various means of escape also). I had been to this place with my brothers and walked through a cut in a stone wall down a short path to a pond. As my view opened onto the water I knew instinctively to freeze. I lowered myself slowly down to make myself less conspicuous and watched. On a raft that neighborhood boys had built was a heron that had caught a large bullfrog and was tearing it apart live to eat. My heart ached for the unfortunate frog yet I held no malice toward the heron. I felt a revelation in my heart at having witnessed one small act in Gods Great Nature.