February 19, 2024
It was a lazy and relaxed Monday morning. I was amazed at how different the day felt when I didn’t have to work. More proof, I thought to myself, that our mindset controls how we experience reality.
After some coffee, I put on warm clothes and grabbed my camera equipment. This morning, I drove to Lake Wilson to shoot photographs of the landscape and wildlife. Although the weather was cold, I had dressed for the occasion. Usually, I’m moving around the lake at a fast pace, but this morning, I sauntered, taking my time to examine the minor details of the scenes before me.
After shooting landscape photos for about an hour, I sat down on a small wooden bench to take a rest, placing my heavy backpack alongside me. The air was frosty, but the sun shone, warming my face as I closed my eyes and tilted my head toward it. Time off work felt good, but time at the lake was even better.
While sitting on the bench, a flock of Canadian geese approached, providing an airshow, their loud honks echoing off the bright water. They came in low, circled to face the wind and landed using their webbed feet like tiny waterskis, slowing them down until their bodies plopped into the water. Seeing a flock of geese land in the lake was always an impressive sight.
There was so much fresh growth everywhere. Tall pines surrounded the lake, some over a hundred feet tall. There were other trees, full of tiny red blossoms, flowers so small that from a distance, they looked like a faint red haze hovering around the tree. Bright green briars sprouted near the bridge and I had to work hard not to become entangled in them. I moved deliberately, carefully choosing each step. If you try to hurry, the thorns on the briars seem to reach out and grab you.
While staring at the water, I saw a large bass hit the surface to eat an insect that landed in the water. On the west side of the lake, I took pictures of seagulls that circled about as they dove into the water, emerging with freshwater clams clamped in their powerful beaks. Lastly, I stopped to shoot a heron who posed for a few minutes before taking flight. Despite the harsh lighting, it was a great feeling to be out shooting. The practice would serve me well when I could return for a sunrise or sunset.
After several hours at Lake Wilson, I packed up my camera gear, walked back to my vehicle, and headed straight to Cracker Barrel for breakfast. All the walking made me hungry, and hey, it was my day off. Apparently, I eat faster when there’s not a pretty lady sitting across from me to converse with. I was in and out of the restaurant in a flash.
When I arrived home, I spoke with my wife over FaceTime and then sat down to write for several hours while sipping coffee and listening to Hilary Hahn play Bach on her violin.
At last light, I walked into the woods. The sun, and temperature, were falling. On my way to the pine grove, I saw a herd of deer through the trees, standing in the middle of the field. They were all staring at me from about one hundred yards away. Their fur looked less gray as they were shedding their winter coats. As I approached the trailhead that turns north, the deer ran off into the opposite tree line.
I made my way towards the creek on the north end of the property, but I opted to take a detour west, circling around, hoping I would cut off the deer before they left the area. I made a stop at a trail camera and checked the footage. Last night, a pair of large raccoons were feeding in the area. Early this morning, a large doe, likely pregnant, crossed the creek in full view of the camera.
When I arrived at Beaver Tooth Rock, I sat still and watched the sunset. Although the trees blocked the horizon, I could see colors through the empty spaces between the branches. The forest was turning greener every day. While I normally faced the creek when I sat, today I turned in the opposite direction to see if the deer were coming towards me. The loud hound dogs north of me had not sounded, so I felt confident the deer had remained on my property. Were they headed in my direction, or had they turned south? I watched and waited in anticipation.
Staring into the woods, trying to pick up movement as it was growing dark, I kept hearing the sounds of wrens fluttering in the dried leaves behind me. The noises were sporadic and loud, sounding like a large animal approaching. I whipped my head around several times, only to see the small birds. Above me, a woodpecker thumped on a tree while a red-bellied bird I could not identify flew past me. A flock of geese traveled overhead, heading toward the reservoir for the evening.
Seeing no deer, I turned back toward the creek to watch the wrens. Several Eastern bluebirds were flying in and out of the trees. The creek flowed faster than usual and the sound of the water gurgling dominated the area. I left early, wanting to put out deer corn before it got dark.
I trekked back toward my house and when I moved from the woodland to the grove; I saw a lone deer standing near my blind. Near the empty lane of pines, seven deer crossed from left to right one by one. It was a lovely sight. The does looked healthy and I expect several new fawns in the coming months.
When I arrived home, vibrant colors lit the horizon. There were more deer standing in the pasture, and I went inside to grab my keys. The deer remained. I grabbed a bag of deer corn from the SUV and poured some out near the pasture. The deer ran off, but last week, they moved into the opposite tree line before returning to feed. I took the rest of the corn to the grove and dumped small piles near my blind. Tonight, the animals would eat well; we all would.
I grabbed a few logs and split them into kindling. When cutting wood, small pieces splinter off during the process. I picked up the small pieces and threw them on the pile of kindling. They rang out, sounding like a wooden wind chime. I spent the rest of the evening sitting by the fire, editing three writing pieces. I wondered, was this the life of a writer?