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Sometimes you have to stop and smell the wildflowers. I mean that literally. GameBirds/turkeycove4.jpg

Factor in that it’s a 2-year-old’s first time experiencing such a thing, and you’d better be prepared to stop often. I discovered this recently while taking a rare walk alone with Will, my second boy.
It’s a simple fact of life. No matter how good the parenting skills and how great the intentions, the first-born child always gets more attention during his or her first years than subsequent children.
There’s no competition for the first born, so that child gets lavished with the attention of both parents at all times. When the second child comes along, the first-born sees a diminished amount of attention and the second-born never experiences 100 percent parent attention. I am the youngest of five boys so I know how this works. Not that I’m complaining, my parents did an outstanding job keeping things fair and making sure we each had plenty of attention.
Now that I have two boys of my own, I understand the struggles of having enough time to give to both children, especially individual attention. Usually the time is spent with both of them, which is terrific and I cherish that time. It’s tough, however, to find time for one-on-one attention — with either child.
That’s when parents — if they are lucky enough to have extended family close by — can employ a powerful weapon: the sleepover. Andrew is now five years old and had been clamoring for a sleepover with Aunt Liz and Uncle Rob in Norwalk. Katie and I didn’t need to have our arms twisted, and Liz and Rob were eager to have Andrew stay over.
That opened the door for unfettered attention to be given to Will, who turns 2 in a few weeks.
The best part, for me anyway, was early the next morning. I wanted to let Katie sleep in (a rare luxury these days) so when Will woke up, I quickly dressed him, fed him and got him out the door. We made a beeline for a nearby wildlife sanctuary, of course. It was a relatively small area for a wildlife sanctuary, but it had varied habitat and I usually have luck finding birds and animals of interest there. Besides, the wildflowers were in bloom and I figured Will might enjoy the colors.
Boy did he ever. Early in the walk I bent low to smell a flower from the daisy family. It didn’t have much of a scent, but Will copied the action and was hooked. He smelled every flower in the five-acre meadow, at least it seemed that way. No flower, regardless of size or color, was safe from Will’s curious nose.
I thought I would constantly be reminding Will not to pull the flowers and not to eat them, but I didn’t have to do either. He simply bent low (which is easy for a 2-year-old to do), took a few sniffs and went on to the next flower.
I started to grow frustrated with the painfully slow pace of the walk, especially since I saw a family of wild turkeys walking toward the other side of the meadow. Soon, however, I realized Will had the right idea. We had no where to go and nothing but time to kill. What was our rush? Why not smell the flowers, no matter how much time it took?
I also realized that over the last few years I’ve turned into a “destination” type of person, always in a rush to get to where I’m going. The trail around the meadow is a loop, so we had to finish the loop, right? Just plain silly.
Actually, Will reminded me of myself when I was just getting into the hobby of bird- and nature-watching. I would stand in one spot for as long as it took to find and identify (at least try to) every bird I heard in the trees. A “walk” could take hours and I’d barely cover any ground. Of course, back then I didn’t have a child, let alone two.
I’m glad my 2-year-old was there to set me straight and remind me that the best moments occur when you are patient and allow them to come to you. Rarely do you experience a special moment in nature when you’re rushing toward a destination.
As for the turkeys. Well, they were still there at the other side of the meadow by the time Will and I got there. We both enjoyed a fantastic view of the turkey family, complete with one male, two females and a handful of young ones. Had I chased after the turkeys, I probably would have spooked them into the woods and barely caught a glimpse of their tail feathers.
Thank goodness for that time alone with Will.

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