When it looks like this, you have to get out.

Especially when you discover a nature reserve that’s less than five miles from your home. Having lived here almost five years and only now discovering it is something of a source of embarrassment. All the times we could have simply hopped into the car and driven a few moments on a sunny spring evening for a quick walk — a shame to admit, I tell you.

Our first day out, with the Girl looking for clues (scribbles in her flip notebook), there’s only one way to take the afternoon:

Lots of new sights — the Girl hasn’t seen a bog in a while, and its soggy nature is fascinating, for all of twenty seconds. There’s simply too much to see, and it’s sensory overload.

The reserve is home to numerous birds, for which we search constantly — some of us more effectively than others.

We reach the fuss point, though: the Girl is tired — “BolÄ… mi nogi!” — and hungry. It’s time to head back.

The other trails will wait.

Dinner waits, and no matter the beauty of the walk, we march on through.

We pause only long enough for a frustration-laden picture.

But boy was that chicken afterward good…