May 28, 2024

Regathering

After waking from a dream, I tried opening my eyes to see what time it was. Squinting through my right eye, I saw my wife was still in bed, lying down beside me. We smiled at each other, feeling like we had stolen this time back away from school. Waking up together was the perfect start to the day, and from now on, it would be the norm.

Koda sounded the doggy alarm, and the house erupted in barks, growls, and sneers. A herd of deer that had bedded down in the field next to the pasture angered the dogs. My wife and I both slept well and felt rested. Sipping our cups of coffee, we chatted about our plans for the day.

We struck up a conversation about my wife’s current trajectory for dealing with the end of school. While the last few months seemed like a simpler task, she had to balance the levity of knowing she would be done with school, with the weight of still performing at a high level each day. Although graduation was nearing, it did nothing to make her days easier. Every day was hard.

We also talked about the dissonance of finishing school. On the one hand, the prospect of its ending was exciting. On the other, there was a type of stress from knowing she would soon be out in the medical workforce without feeling like she had enough training. The summation of our morning chat was that being human was sometimes hard.

My wife spotted a tick crawling up the wall. The dogs probably brought it in from outside. All four dogs took a monthly pill that killed the parasites if bitten. I wondered why they didn’t make this kind of preventative medicine for people. Welcome to summer life in the country.

My wife got ready for work and then I walked her outside, helping her with her things and wiping the condensation off of her vehicle’s mirrors. We said goodbye, and she drove off. I went inside the house and wrote for an hour and a half before heading out into the woods for a walk.

The forest was humid again, and the air felt thick with each breath. It was bright outside, and the uninhibited light shot through openings in the forest’s canopy. There seemed to be more spider webs than usual, prompting me to grab a stick I used to clear them as I walked.

The trails in the grove had signs of deer traffic. Several months ago, larger herds had broken into smaller groups. Some deer traveled in pairs and I had seen three or four lone deer in the area. Now, as the females gave birth, the herds seemed to regather in larger numbers once again.

I didn’t really need a tripod this morning, but I brought one anyway, forcing myself to use it. A recent presentation at the Wilson Camera Club reminded me of the advantages of having this tool during low light shooting. While I enjoyed the benefits of handheld shooting, which was less cumbersome and more free, I routinely faced lowlight conditions in the evenings when deer sightings were more prevalent. Today, I lugged around my tripod, not because I needed it in the early morning sun, but because I wanted to practice using it before carrying it out into a dusky environment. 

As I walked the trails, I noticed all the corn I recently laid out was gone. This was more evidence that the herds were regathering and looking for abundant food sources. I found tracks on the eastern trail that lead to the creek, a place where I rarely saw deer. 

I cut west along the stream, heading toward a small marsh that was usually ripe with wildlife. The ground was soft, making it easier to keep quiet as I crept along the trail. When I arrived near the marsh, a crop plane flew overhead and I took advantage of the engine’s noise to mask my sound, inching closer to the creek’s bank. When I arrived at a large tulip tree, I saw something I had been looking for over the past few months. 

In the water, about twenty yards from where I stood, there was a pair of ducks, a species I had never seen before. The male duck perched on a log above the creek’s surface, while the female floated in the water. These were wood ducks. Over the past few months, I had heard them fly off before I got close enough to see them. On one occasion, I snapped a blurry photo and hoped it was this species. 

Wood ducks looked exotic, almost fake. While the female had light brownish feathers, her eyelids were bright yellow, and her eyes were overly large, making her look as gentle as a deer. The male sported a multicolored pattern with colors of blue, green, red, orange, tan, and brown. These colors appeared in sections that were outlined by markings, looking like someone had painted them in sections. The male had a large tuft of feathers dropping off the back of its head, making the waterfowl look like it was wearing a helmet. It was one of the oddest, and most beautiful, ducks I ever saw. Despite the obstructed view, I snapped a few photos for myself. They weren’t a work of art, but they were a good catch of these wary birds that had always eluded me. Within a few seconds, they flushed, and suddenly, they were gone.

Work was quiet with few meetings, but I had a large task list to work on, so I stayed busy, and the time passed quickly. In the morning, the dogs started barking, and when I looked out of the window, I saw four large deer crossing the pasture. In the afternoon, three more deer feeding in the field set the dogs off again. Before I knew it, work was over and my wife’s car was pulling up to the house. While it was still hard to believe she would come home every day, I knew I would get used to it quickly. 

After dinner, I took an evening walk into the woods. In the pine grove, I saw the cottontail that shot in front of me a few days before. It looked like the small rabbit found a new home in the area. A cardinal was singing loudly, sounding like a stuck record, chirping in sequences long enough to impress Pavarotti fans. A lone doe barked at me and then moved on through the forest. Even though it was not dark, the fireflies were everywhere.

I posted up at the creek to see if any wildlife would show. Behind the brush and reeds, I saw the hindquarters of a whitetail deer move. I waited for about twenty minutes, but it never presented. I heard the deer bolt after some farm equipment in the area started roaring in the distance.

During my trek back to the house, fireflies surrounded me. I stopped to catch one, cradling it in my caveman hands. When I opened my hand, the tiny insect stayed perched on my finger for a few seconds before lifting off and flashing.

When I arrived home, I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while my wife soaked in the tub. After she finished, we both sat outside for a while, talking, feeling grateful for where we were in life and that this evening ended with us being together. A long breeze flowed through the pine tops, whisking us away to sleep.