January 22, 2024
Monday mornings always come quicker than expected. After our morning coffee together, my wife studied in her office while I read a book about a small neighboring town called Rock Ridge. While at the Wilson County Library, I found the book written by a local woman who lived in the area all of her life, which documented the Rock Ridge’s history. I often pass through this area when driving to Wilson or the Wiggins Mill Reservoir. At the juncture of two roads, the Contentnea Creek flows wide as old wooden structures that hold years of character show remnants of a time forgotten. It’s an interesting place and I’ve even stopped to photograph a few of the buildings because they look so striking.
After my wife left, I sat down at my desk to write for about an hour before doing a workout. Before I knew it, I showered, got dressed, and found myself knee-deep in work emails. It was a busy but productive day.
During my lunch break, I went for a walk in the woods. As I rounded a corner that separates the north side of the pine grove from the south side of the woodland, I thought I saw something move about sixty yards in front of me. From the corner of my eye, it looked like a squirrel’s tail, but then I saw something larger and gray. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I remembered a trail camera in the area recently caught footage of two stray dogs. Could this be a dog? I froze and waited, fixing my gaze on the small patch of light that shone between hundreds of tree limbs.
A small doe suddenly popped up and stared at me for about ten seconds before turning casually and heading north. When I approached the area, it was likely that the deer was bedded and sleeping, which made its behavior seem odd. The doe wasn’t alarmed, but she didn’t stick around either. I continued my way up the trail, walking as quietly as possible on the dried, wintry carpet of crunchy dead leaves.
When I arrived at the creek on the north end of the property, I stopped to watch a woodpecker. Woodpeckers are usually pretty elusive and shy, so I was happy to spot the beautiful bird with its black and white body and bright red head. Pausing to watch the bird turned out to be a great decision, because in the quiet I suddenly heard another woodpecker, then another. I stayed in the area for about ten minutes, counting no less that ten of the birds, all tapping deliberately on branches around me. Their pecking was slow, but methodical. They were not in sync with each other, but the sounds somehow created a rhythm of their own that reminded me of the opening of the song Monotone by my favorite Japanese taiko group, Kodo. I had never seen so many woodpeckers at once, and I was happy I was in the woods and not locked away in my office.
I walked the banks of the creek from east to west and I noted that some of the water was still frozen. I stopped and looked at something sticking out of the water through the ice, but it turned out to be a small branch poking out of the ice. While I was squatted down, I must have coughed or made some noise because suddenly I heard the loud flapping sound of a blue heron taking flight. This heron was always shy, and I had not seen it in a while. Its ability to fly through the branches of several trees with its large wingspan impressed me. I bid the heron farewell and turned south, heading down the trail back toward my house.
During work, I received a phone call from a one neighbor who asked if I had received a delivery intended for a different neighbor. About ten minutes later, my wife texted me because a third neighbor was looking for a package for the second neighbor. Oh boy, here we go. First, all aforementioned neighbors are amicable, if not exceptional. Second, most delivery drivers that service the area don’t always, or often, deliver packages to the correct address.
In their defense, several of the houses have the same number, but a letter distinguishes the addresses. When we first moved here, the closest neighbor warned us of the delivery system. Whether it’s the USPS, UPS, FedEx, or Amazon, they all seem to get it wrong. A few weeks ago, I had to pull my package out of a neighbor’s mailbox, and when I did, there was a second package meant for another person who lived across the way. If anything, the neighbors have become efficient in communicating deliveries. And, out in the country, there is never a concern about something getting stolen. It would be nice, however, if our packages arrived at our house just like they do for the people in the big city.
At last light, I took out some corn for the deer, as it was going to be another frigid night. After I came into the house, I heard the dogs barking and when I looked out the window, a small herd was standing in the tree line, preparing to cross into the horse pasture. I had two dogs outside, however, and they successfully thwarted the attempted burglary without further incident. Scoundrels. I love my dogs, but I’m always telling them to be nice to the deer. On one occasion, Bodhi, my large, speedy hound (speedy on the straightaways only), took chase, shooting off like a rocket after the intruding deer. He returned about twenty minutes later, panting, looking like a fifty-year-old after a CrossFit workout.
The rest of the night was short. We washed down fish tacos with cold Sapporo beers sipped out of a frozen mason jars. I strummed the guitar, made some notes, took a shower, and went to bed.