April 10, 2024

The Return

Last night’s late dinner roiled in my guts as I slept. An upset stomach woke me up at 2 AM and I found myself unable to go back to sleep until after three. I woke up at five feeling moderately better and did a little work on the computer while my wife slept a while longer. She had an online exam this morning, so she would be home all day. This made us both happy.

We planned to move my wife into my office for the day, so I showered earlier than normal and then began moving my work things to the dining room table. There were two laptops and an iPad, various notebooks and pens, and my ergonomic mouse and clicky mechanical keyboard. At eight, my wife locked herself in my office and began testing. At nine, I started work, enjoying the new environment. It was strange how I worked from home using a laptop, but rarely worked outside of my home office. The main reason was the large monitors I used, which helped me pull up multiple documents simultaneously without contributing to blindness.

Working from the dining room table had its perks. The birds were active, landing near the window to eat suet left out on the deck railing. Small wrens fed from the block while a female cardinal picked up the fallen scraps. A small warbler showed up, its yellow chest shone brightly against the clouded sky. Later, an unexpected shower came and went, and by noon the sun was back out, making for a beautiful day. The forest looked especially green after the rain.

My wife finished her first round of testing at noon. She was in the kitchen when we both saw something we had been waiting for. A wren flew up into an abandoned nest high in the inside corner of the pergola. As we watched intently, we noticed the wren gathering dried leaves from the deck. We were excited. Last year, the pair of wrens, who usually mated for life, built the nest and had two broods of chicks as we took in the entire show, which lasted a few months.

The first day we heard faint peeps was enthralling. Then a few days later, we saw a wren chick peek its beak out over the edge of the nest. The parents got used to us and continued feeding their young, even when we sat on the couch under the pergola. One day, I set up a ladder to watch them from a distance. I counted three chicks while taking pictures, but when I studied the photos on my computer, I saw there were five small chicks. The mother stayed in the nest with them while the father hunted bugs all day, returning every few minutes with something for the hungry mouths to eat. In an act of pure genius, the chicks would eat the insect and then turn around to poop a solid white substance that was passed straight to the father who carried off the waste so it didn’t build up in the nest.

I was worried about the chicks once they began pushing out. Then, one day, they came out and perched outside the nest before returning. The next morning, I looked for some type of pen to place under the nest so the dogs or other predators would not kill the chicks, but while I was still searching on my computer, my wife called me to come outside. By the time I got there, all the chicks were on the ground following their parents through the fence. After weeks of connecting, they were suddenly gone. We were surprised to find ourselves feeling sad about being separated from our new friends. A few months later, the parents returned and produced three more chicks. Now, they were back for a new spring season.

During my lunch break, my wife and I took a walk through the forest. I routinely made these treks on breaks during the day, but it was nice to have her home with me. We walked quietly, making our way toward Beaver Tooth Rock, where we planned to sit and relax for a bit. A little before we arrived, however, my wife froze, pointing her small hand straight ahead. About thirty yards in front of us, on the creek’s bank, stood a beautiful doe.

The doe’s body was facing away, but she turned her head and stared straight at us. Her gigantic eyes looked curious, and she remained calm as we all stood frozen, staring at each other. The deer’s coat looked clean and contrasted with the fresh growth in the forest. The lighting was perfect and the scene would have made a once in a lifetime photograph. Breaking its gaze, the deer barked at us and ran north, eventually turning east to join a herd that emerged from the forest further away. The experience was one of my top two favorite deer sightings since I had been here. During a sunrise, my wife and I were drinking coffee on the deck when the other occurrence took place. The light of the rising sun looked deep gold and formed hundreds of beams shooting through the fog in the pine grove. About twenty yards from us, a herd of deer stood quietly in the forest, perfectly backlit by the sun. I embraced today’s experience knowing how rare it was.

After work, we assembled the new outdoor furniture consisting of four chairs, two swiveling chairs, and a large table. We placed the set on the deck, arranging the hammock, fire pit, and rocking chairs. The deck was officially ready for spring. In the evening, we picked up a pepperoni and mushroom pizza from Armando’s. Rumors circulated that someone might have eaten a slice of cheesecake. Tomorrow was Thursday, and my wife had the day off. Friday, however, she would leave for Raleigh, staying there for the weekend while working at the VA hospital. Being apart never thrilled us, but I was happy she would be in a better work environment and besides, she just had a little over three months of rotations left. I knew we had this.