April 1, 2024
Forest Goblins
Today would be my last journal entry. April Fools, as they say. I never understood this holiday, but since my brother was born on this day, it was always a good go to slam while we were growing up. I was born on Mother’s Day, a much more respectable and responsible way to enter the world than sneaking in as a fool.
After drinking a cup of coffee together on the couch, my wife and I moved to the dining room table where she studied and I wrote. After our session was done, we slipped on our boots and headed out the front door. On the opposite side of the house, there stood a herd of six deer. I called them the Ridiculous Six, after an awful western movie by the same name. While several herds moved through the property, these six deer, four does and two yearlings, lived near the house. They scurried off into the opposite tree line while we headed into the grove.
Earlier in the morning, I had watched the herd as they stood in the pasture. Several of the does were pregnant and would give birth in another month. One doe was holding her tail up in the air as she preened the bright white fur. I usually saw this white flag raised as deer ran off from danger. This morning, however, the doe was flashing it in a clear wardrobe malfunction.
In the grove, the eastern sky was lit up in a bright orangish-pink color, looking like a smoldering wildfire. The air felt balmy, but once we entered the forest, the temperature dropped, making it feel cold. I smelled smoke in the air, probably from a neighboring chimney or burn pile. We walked a short loop in the woods before my wife headed off to work. I kissed her goodbye on the front porch like the good stay-at-home parent I was and sent her on her way. This morning, she looked especially delectable. I would miss her.
After my wife’s car disappeared down the dirt road, I walked back into the woods. The grove was getting bright, but the forest was still dark and shaded. As I neared the creek, I heard a couple of frogs singing out. I admired the large rocks on the property as I walked by, remembering the first time I discovered them while exploring the woods when I moved here. I had walked into the forest looking for a few small rocks to build a fire pit when I found a rock the size of a large sofa. It was an incredible find, and I was excited. Little did I know that ten minutes later, I would discover a round rock in the forest bigger than a truck and over ten feet tall. I wondered about the large boulder’s story, how it ended up in the middle of a forest, and who had touched it throughout history. Had a dinosaur rubbed against it, or an indigenous tribe camped near it, or had a Civil War soldier admired it while walking through the woods? I found the large rock intriguing.
When I arrived near Beaver Tooth Rock, I heard a deer bark and twigs snapping in the distance. I was walking stealthily, but they probably caught my scent in the wind. I never even saw them. When the forest went quiet, I could hear the hum of distant farm equipment preparing the fields for planting. After some time in nature alone, I made my way back to the house, where I pulled out the riding mower and cut a large patch of grass that was growing long in the pasture. After, I dusted off, went inside the house, and jumped into the shower so I could start work.
The work day was busy and before I knew it, it was time to turn off the computer. My wife arrived home, and we headed into the forest to sit down together at Beaver Tooth Rock. We approached the area quietly, climbing onto the large boulder to see what nature would present. In the ravine below us, a herd of deer hid in the tall grasses. Three deer moved quickly west, while two remained behind the brush as we sat quietly and watched. One of the two deer hidden in the brush walked slowly into an open area and the second deer flushed, catching up to its herd in long jumping strides. After they left, we began talking.
The forest was silent today. Apart from one noisy neighbor, an eastern gray squirrel in a tree to our right, the area was mostly quiet. A distant neighbor’s hounds had been loud over the past few nights, but this evening I did not hear the dogs' cries. We debriefed our day, spending a few minutes venting about the negatives and then promising to keep the talk positive from there. I showed my wife some pictures I edited, and she talked to me about her experiences at work. I noted the large rock in front of us had plants growing on top that started reaching up toward the sky, looking like the thin hairs sticking up on a baby orangutang’s head.
This rock was larger than a full-sized van and one end was cleanly split with a large straight cut that looked like a Jedi knight took to it with a lightsaber. I named this rock Tengu, after the mythical Japanese forest goblins that were said to have taught the samurai how to sword fight. Tradition told us the tengu were the protective, yet dangerous, spirits of the mountains and forests. In Japan, there was a famous rock that looked exactly the same. Legend had it that a famous Yagyu samurai cut the rock with his sword while cutting down a tengu with a single, powerful stroke. The famous rock was seven thousand miles from here, but I had one of my own.
We hiked back to the house and ate dinner together, happy to reconnect after a long day’s work. After a hot shower, I crawled into bed, wondering if I would battle a goblin in my dreams. Then I laughed, thinking the animals probably considered me to be the goblin of our mysterious forest.