Groping in the dark is not something we humans' often like to do. But sometimes when we are suddenly thrown into blackness by power outages, or by winter's theft of the early morning light, humans have the opportunity to marvel at many creatures that don't go bump in the night. Unlike us, many birds and animals see quite well in the darkness.

I thought of this today around 6:00 am, upon opening the back door and being greeted by a thick blanket of solid blackness, rather than by dawns' early light. I stood for a few minutes on the back step to let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness, and then I peered into the gloom making sure that all the barely visible shadowy blobs around the yard would not suddenly rear up and attempt to eat me. After deciding the yard was indeed bear free, I walked down the path towards the car, and stumbled across some unseen protruding stones.

I took a quick walk around town while it was still dark and was again reminded of our poor night vision. From the marsh, invisible to my eyes, Canada Geese were honking. I sometimes forget that waterfowl are most active at night.

This night activity amazes me. I sometimes wonder what a duck might see as it wings its way silently over the blackened landscape. What does a lake look like from the air in total darkness? From some angles on a clear calm night it must reflect the stars like a mirror, and on other overcast nights, a lake might be oily black, and darker than the surrounding landscape.

I am reminded of an early spring morning in which someone discovered a dead Pied-billed Grebe in the middle of their snow-covered field. They showed me the Grebe and I speculated on how it might have met such a fate.

Grebes are active at night and probably migrate in darkness. Did this hapless bird fly over the snow-covered field and in the darkness mistake it for a pond? A miscalculation of this sort would not be fatal for a Mallard because as the Mallard neared the hard snow it would realize that it wasn't landing in water and could pull up and avert a collision. But a Grebe doesn't have great maneuverability in the air. Their wings are narrow and flight is fast and direct. Once committed to a landing, there would be no stopping. Bump! Thump! The Grebe probably tumbled end over end and died on impact. So much for night vision.

Apart from freak accidents, night vision still sounds wonderful. If a wish-granting genie gave me a choice between a keen sense of smell, or night vision, I would have a hard time deciding. Could I have both, Mr. Genie?