Ivanhoe, on the Right

Reflections on naming, heroism, and backyard mammalian reenactments

If you were to drive down my street in the wee early hours and make a right-hand turn into my driveway, there is a chance that you would see a cottontail rabbit residing near the massive honeysuckle that is overtaking the electric box. At first glance this may seem like your run-of-the-mill cottontail, however, he is far from ordinary. He has a name, Isaac of York. That may ring a bell, it may not. But as soon as you pull into the drive he will take off in a flash, for he often is a fearful rabbit. 

This character is one of many that reside on our little property at the end of the street. Our piece of the cul-de-sac is home to many of the cast of Ivanhoe. I hope you are familiar with the story, if not, I suggest you read it! My wife and I have taken to naming our local animal regulars after the persons that appear in the classic by Sir Walter Scott. Isaac is the fearful and wealthy Jewish father of Rebecca. He generously lends money and armor to Wilfred of Ivanhoe, enabling him to participate in the tournament at Ashby.

 The medieval milieu provides such a wonderful cast of characters that contain distinct and memorable personalities. We have undergone to transfer some of these fabled legends to our own backyard. 

I have already mentioned Isaac of York. We also have Locksley, the hawk that lives in the dead oak tree in the woods just beyond my backyard. My wife and I often see him swooping just over the house and backyard as he comes and goes from his own Sherwood forest. I imagine him making his way skillfully through the trees and over the fields as my childhood hero Robin Hood might have done. Another, more recent character appearance, is the jovial and robust Friar Tuck. The fluffy yet agile groundhog has taken to living under the concrete patio on the backside of our house, and I have seen him descending a tree as well. We started a summer garden recently and I will be watching very closely to see if ole Tuck will be tempted to help himself to my squash and zucchinis. 

And to round out the last of the heroes of our backyard rendition, our beloved Wamba, the bluejay. From the living room, we can watch him circumnavigate our property. First, the picket fence on the northwest side of the house, from there he flies over the house and lands on a branch of a scraggly tree growing out of the same place our front yard honeysuckle is located. Here, I like to imagine that he and Isaac the Rabbit of York exchange a few words. Our Wamba continues his journey around the yard, from branch to grass to branch again. I think that he is looking for his friend Gurth, who is a swineherd come squire in the novel and has yet to make an appearance on our little half-acre. 

As for the villains of the tale of Ivanhoe, what better fits the bad guys named Maurice de Bracy, Front de Beouf, and Brian De Bois Guilbert, than three local stray cats? De Bracy, I see often patrolling the house and making his way through the backyard into the neighboring wood. Though somewhat more esteemed in his own estimation than the other two, he is no less a villain. His gray longhaired form is the smallest of the villains. Front de Beouf, in his hulking mass, lounges often in the street and driveways of the neighbors, probably looking for some easy prey. His castle is the setting of the heroic rescue attempt enacted by Gurth, Wamba, Locksley, and the semi-mysterious Le Noir Faineant. 

Naming these creatures has caused me to think about the nature of naming things. I wonder: Is to name something to make it personal? We do not plan on living in the house for very long, but yet we make gardens, plant trees, and name the animals. As a Christian, I feel the deep pull of Eden in my bones. When I name the animals that I occasion to see, I start to develop a relationship with them. Wamba the bluejay has a personality. Tuck is a chubby groundhog because he moonlights as a ferocious gallant vigilante and hides in plain sight as a not-so-meager monk. When I name the animals I can imagine a life behind their eyes. 

Ivanhoe has been fantastic so far. I think we have 100 pages left, we covered 400 so far and I can’t wait to see what happens next. The good guys have the upper hand, but the evil Templar has escaped with Rebecca. I remember reading the Great Illustrated Classic version of Ivanhoe, but so far this version has been vastly different. All I remember about the first time I read it was that Robin Hood was in it (childhood hero).

The venerable Great Illustrated Classics were my favorite growing up

 When I plant trees in my yard I imagine that they will grow and last longer than me. They will grow with my memory and one day will be shared with my descendants. There is hope in everything that is planted. When I place a tiny semi-wilted butternut squash in the ground after I have dug up the earth and composted the soil when I place that little guy in the ground… I hope. With a patient expectation I go and water that garden just about every day. I recently transplanted a lilac bush that I acquired from a customer’s house at work. Now it has a new life in front of my bedroom window. 

There is something in building, planting, replanting, and naming. There is an ordering of life in a way that coincides with how things are and how they could be. As the seasons of my life ebb and flow the opportunity to dig deep and plant seeds of meaning always presents itself. So, plant trees and name animals. Read books that make you laugh, read books that make you cry. And if you find a book that can do both, let me know, I probably would like to read it.