It was the middle of July and I was spending yet another morning in my beloved Thinking Chair. I had just returned from my trip to Cape Cod, where I had secured enough photos to give me columns until the end of the month and I had already committed to a schedule for that purpose. So, when a mysterious creature materialized out of the tall grasses in my meadow, I was jubilant, but knew that it would be a while before I could share today’s story.

It was 70 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny at 6:45 a.m. when I first reached the chair. An hour later the sky was completely cloudy and this actually made things better for photography. The colors would be more fully saturated and there would be no harsh shadows, but there was still a lot of light. Now I just needed someone to strike a pose for me.

The first volunteer was an immature common yellowthroat, but the bird was too far away for a quality photo. The bright side of this situation, however, is the fact that the bird had me looking in the right direction to see a movement on the path in front of me. All I had to do was look down just a bit in order to bring the new arrival into the center of my vision. Then I found myself frozen for a second; my mind fully engaged in the task of trying to make sense out of what I was seeing.

Out from the meadow grass had appeared a mammal. It was very dark in color and I instantly recognized it as a mink (Neogalevison). The animal’s identity was not in question, but its presence was. Normally associated with water, this particular individual seemed to be excruciatingly out of place. Fortunately, the mink also seemed to freeze for a second, so that bought me some time to bring my camera on target.

At first the mink had only placed its front paws up on a plank of wood that I use as a bridge when there’s water in the meadow. The mink was staring at me and when it heard the shutter clacking away it actually came all the way up onto the plank and took a few steps toward me. Curiosity is a wonderful trait in some animals and it really is a photographer’s friend. Then the animal turned around and jumped back into the grass. Then, miraculously, the mink reappeared and paused one more time for one last photo. It is that last photo that I share with you today.

A member of the weasel family, the American mink is described as a semi-aquatic mammal. The habitat entries found in many different sources always mention water; the only difference being ocean, estuary, river or stream. The entries for food also consistently mention fish as the preferred item. This is what initially confused me because I was miles away from where fish might live. What in blue blazes what a mink doing here?

The key to answering this question was found in the name of the habitat in front of me. The fact that I was looking at a “wet” meadow explains it all. You see, when the spring snowmelt begins there can be so much water in the meadow that a large pond forms. It just so happens that my Thinking Chair is situated about 15 yards south of the lowest spot in the meadow. When the water is high it can be over a foot deep and rushing with a current that would make a kayaker’s pulse race. But in the summer, when the grasses have grown to their full height, there might not be any water at all. But that doesn’t mean that evidence of its presence is also gone.

The meadow drains into a rocky ravine that channels the water and magnifies its force as it scours its way downstream. In the springtime the stream channel is raging with water, but by summer it is completely dry. This leaves just the rocky streambed to show where the water once was. The streambed makes it all the way down to a small trout stream over a mile away from my house and I think it must be that connection that answers the question of the mink’s presence — an intrepid explorer was on walkabout!

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My stream will never offer a mink any sort of food because the water completely disappears for months at a time. However, an animal on a surveying mission needs to explore and so this animal just came up from the river to see what’s what. It’s possible that I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to capture the animal just as it decided to turn around. I say this because just after taking the final mink photo that day, the animal leapt across the path and dove into the very beginning of the ravine.

Well folks, my days are numbered. August is half over and that means that my summer vacation is winding down. I plan on getting outside as much as possible in the next two weeks and this should set me up with column ideas aplenty, but if you have an idea then please send me an email. It is always great to write a column on a topic requested by a reader.

Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 27 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.