January 11, 2024
Morning began at 4:30 AM. It was cold outside, but the day would be sunny. After a hot cup of coffee, I stepped outside to see the morning light and learned the raccoons had kindly rummaged through a trash bag, tearing small holes and removing selected goodies, as if grabbing snacks from a broken vending machine. After my wife left for work, I did a workout and then took a short walk through the woods, where I noticed all the deer corn was gone. I checked a trail camera near the area and spotted one of two large bucks that showed up on new year’s night.
Today, I shot my bow, practicing at twenty, thirty, and forty yards. Regular practice has really improved my shooting. I felt my stance was more consistent, and my aim more steady. At twenty yards, I have to target a different bullseye on each shot, lest I destroy mores arrows with arrows. At forty yards, I shot three arrows per round, and the fletchings were all touching. The accuracy of a modern bow is something to behold. I have a long history of shooting firearms, and I know how hard it is to shoot a pistol at forty yards. While the pistol is quicker shot for shot, I don’t think a shooter’s ability to shoot small groups could outperform a modern bow. And as for being shot, I’d rather take a bullet than a modern broadhead.
At day’s end, I took a bag of deer corn into the pine grove, setting it down against a large pine tree before walking deeper into the forest. I walked to the north end of the property, checking trail cameras along the way. Walking through the woods had become therapeutic after a long day’s work. A few months ago, when reading Thoreau’s essay, Walking, I came upon a few lines that stuck with me.
Thoreau wrote, “I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit. In my afternoon walk I would fain forget all my morning occupations and my obligations to society. But it sometimes happens that I cannot easily shake off the village.” Thoreau then asked, “What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something outside of the woods?”
That question, “What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something outside the woods?” has become a type of mantra for me. It’s an excellent reminder to be open to the wonder of the present moment. So, while in the woods, if my mind drifted to think about work, Thoreau’s words immediately popped into my head, and I made a conscious decision to drop any thoughts that were not directly related to being in the woods.
The lesson did not stop there. I have used this mantra while doing any activity which merits, or demands, my focus. When I am working, then my work becomes my woods. I asked myself what business have I doing work if I am thinking about something outside of work? This helps snap my focus into place. It has become a habit that every endeavor that is happening in the present moment becomes Thoreau’s woods. And so, this one brief line helps guide me each day.
When I returned from the forest back to the pine grove, I heaved the bag of deer corn onto my right shoulder and made my way to the feeding area near my deer blind, dropping the bag onto the pine needled floor. I cut it open and dumped several piles of feed, as I’ve learned the deer are more comfortable moving from spot to spot while eating. After emptying the bag, I folded it up and made my way back to the house. When I arrived at the trailhead just outside my house, I stopped, still inside the tree line. There was a herd of ten or twelve deer feeding in the pasture.
The deer detected me quickly, so I walked calmly toward my house, still about one hundred yards away. There was no bark to sound the alarm; the deer just scurried off across the pasture and into the opposite tree line that borders my property. One doe, however, stopped in the pasture and stared at me. It was Lady.
Lady is a doe that always seems to be interested in me. My first spring here, she had a fawn, and last spring, she had a set of twins. Whenever we would spot each other, whether in a crop field or the forest, she would always stop and watch me, even as the other deer fled. At first, she would spit and stomp, probably warning me not to approach her young, but it’s become a habit for us to briefly stare at each other. She never gets closer than fifty or sixty yards, but I always know when Lady is in the herd. Even young bucks run off while she sticks around. Like a gentleman, I always respect her space, and when we meet, I watch her for a few seconds, sometimes shooting a few photographs. Then, without further delay, I turn around and walk deliberately in the opposite direction. This has been our ritual for the past six or seven months.
My new Petzl headlamps came in the mail today. That means early morning walks are going to happen more frequently. Work runs my life from 9 AM, but the hours between 4 AM and then are mine. The lights will get us on the trails while the sky is still dark. My wife purchased new gaiters to keep our faces warm, so I’m looking forward to getting out for several hikes this weekend.
I fell asleep while thinking of one of my Japanese sensei, who passed away on today’s date. The depth of a relationship between a wise teacher and a willing student knows no bounds.