January 7, 2024
Today is my older brother’s birthday. Although I was six years his junior, I spent a lot of time with him when I was a small child. His athleticism and love for the outdoors and hunting created a strong bond. I don’t think my brother knows, but, in an odd and chance event, he also awakened my love for writing.
My brother is not a writer, and would probably laugh at the notion, but when I was very young, I came upon a short poem that was neatly typed and placed in a transparent page protector. Apparently, it was a school assignment in which he wrote a poem about sitting in front of a fire while camping. It was, and still is, an excellent poem. For me, it introduced the power of the written word, and how the letters and sentences used to communicate can transcend the mundane and convey powerful experiences and ideas. That poem awakened something in me that lives to this day.
It’s Sunday, and I slept in until 6 AM, had a cup of coffee, and drove, with my wife, to Lake Wilson. The morning was gray and gloomy, but nature still looks beautiful in drab clothing. On our first lap around the lake, we spotted a tree with bark heavily scraped. During my previous walk just one day before, I noticed this tree with three or four scrapings, but now a beaver had scraped off the cambium from a large section of the tree. The beaver’s overnight work was impressive.
Rounding a corner of the trail, there was a small squirrel watching us and making noises that commanded our attention. A week ago, in this same spot, we had thrown a small cracker at a squirrel, who promptly snatched it up for a snack. Was this the same squirrel? It certainly looked as though he was expecting us to stop and pay a squirrel tax.
When I arrived home, I read for about thirty minutes before falling asleep on the floor of my office, my head resting on the corner of my zabuton. The quick turnaround between the walks yesterday evening and that morning made me feel tired. When I awoke, I washed up and headed into the woods to pull the SD cards out of two trails cameras. On the cards, there were videos of raccoons, foxes, deer, a cardinal, heron, and a pair of squirrels.
One interesting series of videos included four raccoons that hung out together. They were at the feeding area and a fifth raccoon was there. There was a vicious sounding fight that made the four raccoons retreat, and have a meeting a few feet away from the aggressive raccoon. After the meeting, the four raccoons forced the lone raccoon out of the feeding area, punishing it for its insolence.
I downloaded the videos and headed back into the forest. My wife placed fruits, vegetables, and small fish in the feeding areas while I replaced the SD cards in the cameras. I formatted the memory cards, aimed the cameras, and vacated the area. When we arrived home, I grabbed a bag of deer corn and carried it into the forest, placing feed near an area where four bucks recently visited.
In the afternoon, I bundled up and headed to the reservoir for a little fishing. The conditions were horrendous. It was very dark, cold, and windy. The pier was bouncing around from the waves and cold water splashed all around. I walked to the end of the pier, struggling to keep my balance from the moving walkway. After tying down my fishing bucket, I fished for about an hour, during which I caught a shiny crappie, a tad too small to keep. I placed it back in the frigid waters, fished for another half hour, and headed home because the fishing was slow.
In the evening, everyone in the house was ready for bed. The dogs had run like mad through the forest. My wife and I had walked six miles at the lake, and I had battled the elements during fishing. We opted to skip dinner and were in bed by a quarter past eight. It was time to let go of the weekend; Monday mornings always come quick.