March 17, 2024

Under Pressure

It was Sunday morning, and we were up well before the sun. My wife had to work today, so we were on our normal weekday schedule. When I awoke, I took the dogs outside, and they began growling. From the back porch, I looked out on the west side of the house and saw a herd of deer. Three deer were standing still while one walked in a semi-circle, moving closer to the tree line. Two deer were lying down. The herd had apparently bedded down in the grass just 40 yards from my house. I brought the dogs inside and we left the deer alone.

My wife and I sat on the couch sipping our coffees, getting mentally prepared for the day. She had to work and, well; I planned on writing, editing photos, and going to fish. Rough life, I know. After she left, I made another cup of coffee and sat down to write at the dining room table. Before twilight, I changed clothes and headed into the woods to watch the sunrise.

The skies were dark, and the air was still. The grove seemed silent as the first light was touching the sky. While most people considered the sunrise to be the start of the day, the half hour before the sun was visible above the horizon was the best part of the morning. Once the actual sunrise occurred, the sky was still beautiful, but it could not compete with the vista that appeared just after twilight.

I made my way north along the trails when I heard the familiar sound of a single deer bark. I squatted down to see through the forest, past the tree trunks, spotting a few deer moving west, away from me. When the deer ran, it was noisy. They sounded like horses moving through the brush. But when deer were walking, even quickly, they glided through the forest in silence. If you’ve ever been in the forest and felt you were alone, then you were probably wrong. There’s just nothing in the woods as loud as a human being, although the crows comes in a close second.

I continued along the trail, visiting Beaver Tooth Rock, and then found a place to sit next to the creek where the water rushed. I liked to listen to the water moving. There were several small bends and falls in the stream, which created various noises. Some trickled in a high pitch, while others gurgled and growled. I sat for a while taking a rest, preparing myself for the day. While sitting, I heard a loud splash. I stilled myself, turning on my camera. Was it a beaver? I kept close watch at the creek, looking in all directions for any movement that would give the small mammal’s position away.

While focused on finding a beaver, a doe barked to my left. The barking continued nine or ten times, which was rare. To my left and hidden in the tall straw brush; I saw a doe standing in the water, perfectly camouflaged. I fired off two photographs before she took flight. Three or four more deer emerged out of nowhere, following her to safety.

When I arrived home, I sat down to write for another couple of hours. After, I made some lunch and then went down to the shed to grab some fishing bait from my worm bins. The worms were more active and several babies were growing, while plenty of adults remained. I grabbed thirty worms and headed to the Buckhorn Reservoir to fish. There were others fishing and several boats were being picked up or dropped off at the boat ramp. It was quiet for a weekend. As I walked to my fishing spot at the end of a floating pier, I saw the water along the shore was completely yellow. A four-foot band of bright yellow clouded the water’s edge. It was pine pollen. Looking down into the water, you could see small pollen particles floating all around.

I fished for a while, getting more bites than usual and catching a small largemouth bass. While fishing, my wife texted saying she was off work and that she was going to meet me at the reservoir. It sounded like she had a rough day and needed to decompress. I continued fishing until I saw her vehicle pull into the area. I grabbed my things, relocating from the floating pier to a wooden dock that did not move. My wife was prone to motion sickness, and I didn’t want her bouncing around on the pier.

Still in her work clothes, we stood fishing, talking about the stress of her graduate program. I relayed my stress about work, too. I had a lot on my plate and some key people out on vacation, so the work week had been weighing heavily on my mind since I woke up. My wife talked about the pressures of school, always going through bouts of feeling confident and feeling like she knew nothing. School was hard and her program was the toughest I had seen. She had been working at a furious pace for a year and a half now, withstanding a tremendous amount of pressure and insanely hard work. 

A fish nibbled on my line, so I passed my fishing rod to my wife so she could experience what the bites felt like. She was learning to fish and never had a baited line in the water. I made one last cast and then we packed up, driving to the house in tandem, looking like the Secret Service in our two black SUVs, driving down the dirt road as dust shot out from our tires like the contrails of a fighter jet.

After we arrived home, my wife changed clothes, and we took off into the forest together. We made our way to Beaver Tooth Rock and sat down, looking out over the creek. This place had become special to us over the past year. There were several birds and other noises, but the scene was serene. My wife and I discussed stress, school, and work. And, for some time, we sat quietly, gathering ourselves. It was a nice place to come out of our heads and get grounded with our immediate reality. Life was going great, and our stresses had solutions that were within our reach. Some things required us to get out of our own way, while others would require us to be patient and tough. As we stared out into the distance, a falcon landed on a large tree in front of us, its swift wings backlit by the sun. I was always happy to see a new wildlife species on the property.

My wife was the first one to discover Beaver Tooth Rock. After a hard day during her first year at medical school, she ventured into the forest and found this place of refuge. She told me about it the next day, and that weekend, we worked hard to clear the land and connect the main trail to the rock. Now, I visited this place daily. It had become my place of sanctity and sanity. 

We spent the evening enjoying some quiet time outdoors in front of the fire. My wife studied on the patio furniture while I edited photos. When she was done, we put away our computers and enjoyed the evening. I had a beer, maybe two, while she sipped on water. The sky was thick with clouds, making for a hazy night. Although the moon looked soft and out of focus, it shone brightly, reflecting the sun’s burning light.