Today began with me shoveling off the thin layer of snow from our driveway. It was then that I saw tracks cutting across the front ditch and our lawn. I knew at once that it had to be the waddling gait of an opossum; with foot drags and whip marks left by its bare tail. I’m not sure if I had ever seen an opossum until I was at least in high school; maybe even in college. We didn’t have them Up North when I was growing up. We had porcupines but no opossums. Perhaps that has changed now with milder winters, or the opossum’s ability to crawl into small crevices and accidentally hitchhike their way to new places. Of this I am unsure, but the telltale signs of an opossum walking near our house upon the new fallen snow was left for those who observed.
An hour later when my wife and I were returning from a morning appointment, I glanced over the guardrail at our nearby creek. I have a habit of doing this more often than not when we drive by a moving body of water. It tends to freak my wife out when we start to swerve one way or another from the lane I need to be traveling in, but how else am I supposed to check out the creek’s depth, flow rate, and fishability? A quick look to my left and right allows me to see if the waterway is navigable and worthy of exploration. Today I saw tracks running down the snow covered ice of the creek as we passed by, and I knew immediately what it must have been. In fact, I quickly announced to my wife, while realigning our vehicle into the proper lane, that river otters had been running down upon that ice. The intermediate slide marks that they left behind were the telltale signs that gave it away.
Once I was home, I got dressed in my outdoor gear, put the collar on our dog Kora, and headed out the door. We made our way down to the creek where a ribbon of trees hugs both sides as it meanders its way through the cornfield. While walking on the thin layer of snow, we basked in the sun, breathed deep the fresh air, and kept our eyes peeled for tracks.
Kora and I saw many signs left in the snow. As she sniffed out the various scents, I was able to get pictures of the various tracks. I identified mice, a raccoon, cotton-tailed rabbits, squirrels, coyotes, a fox, and of course the otters. Following the trails of the otters, and being able to capture a small glimpse of their story, was really cool. I could see where they had rested, explored, and wrestled as I tracked them along the creek. In addition to the five-toed tracks, their heavy, thick tails occasionally left trenches in the snow. To complete the long slides, they would playfully push off and scoot through the snow on their bellies, letting their hind feet drag behind them.
Under clear skies the sun radiantly reflected from the crystal surface. It was a great day to track critters that had been out and about. Thanks to the snow covering, I could easily follow their telltale signs down at the creek.
See you along The Way...
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"Tracking an animal is opening the door to the life of that animal. It is an educational process, like learning how to read. In fact, it is learning how to read. Following an animal's trail may bring you closer to the animal physically, but, more important, it brings you closer to it in perception. The longer you follow the animal, the deeper you enter into a perceptual relationship with its life." (Paul Rezendes. Tracking And The Art Of Seeing. Charlotte, Vermont: Camden House Publishing Inc, 1992.)
The Trail Of The Opossum
White Footed Mouse With Its Tail Drag
Coyote
Meadow Jumping Mouse
Red Fox
A Beaver Chew On A Hackberry Tree
Otter Tracks
Otter Tracks & Their Slides
The Distinct 5-Toed Print Of The Otter
Where The Otters Swam In The Open Water & Came Up Onto The Ice To Play & Groom
It’s the shortest day of the year; the winter solstice. It’s also the day when Jupiter and Saturn align to combine powers, and look as bright as any star in our galaxy due to the Sun’s rays reflecting off their surface. Unfortunately this short day comes within what has arguably felt like the longest year ever (no need to list what’s made it feel this way….we’ve all lived it in our own way). On top of this it’s cloudy tonight, and has been for the last two weeks, other than a brief glimpse this past Thursday night; so we had to miss the climax of the celestial celebration. The positioning of the two largest planets in our Solar System hasn’t happened for 800 years. I’m guessing I’ll probably miss the next go-a-round as well if we have to wait that long for it to occur again.
While the daylight today was technically shorter, I definitely made the most of it. First, I spent time reflecting on last year’s wedding between our son Todd and daughter-in-law Emeris. It was exactly a year ago today that we had been blessed with so many fond memories. In addition, I gathered with my friends Scott and Justin for an adventure in the woods. As friends they had come with their wives last year and helped my wife and me celebrate the wedding.
Cindy And I With Scott & Kelly
Cindy And I With Justin & Melissa
Around mid-morning today, Scott, Justin, and I drove separately to the woods in order to maintain social-distancing, but then enjoyed hiking through the river bottoms in the great out-of-doors. Fresh air never felt so good! It’s been quite a haul for us as educators throughout this school year, and so a break to catch our breath was long overdue.
As you may know, I run long distances and enjoy the training process to prepare, but juggling in-person students and remote learners at the same time every day, in every class period, is easily right up there with running an entire marathon. I’m in good shape, but I’m often whooped by the end of those six periods I teach back to back. So although I enjoy running and teaching, the outing today with good friends was a perfect reprieve!
We talked, thrashed through brush (what’s new?), and watched my dog Kora exploring the nooks and crannies within the secret scents of nature. We even found a spot free of snow and grasses to cook our classic skillet over an open fire; each of us feasting on a healthy helping piled high on our plates.
In conversation we enjoyed each other’s company. In silence we realized how long the hiatus has been. Together we overcame the shortest daylight hours of the year, on a cloudy day, in this crazy year. Will wonders ever cease? I hope not!
I wouldn’t have had to set up my old, green, canvas tent; it’s fairly mild out for being on the doorstep of December. It’s a classic, however, and I’ve had it since I was a wee lad. It’s a pup tent for all intents and purposes, but as it rounds the corner towards 50 years old, I decided to break it out, set it up, and use it as my base camp today.
As a kid, I always took care of my toys and what I was given. I didn’t have a lot in the way of toys growing up. I didn’t need a lot. The farm, the animals, and the surrounding woods and land that I grew up on in the hills surrounding Sparr valley were enough. But as I stated, the things that I had as a young boy still exist because I treated them with respect, and knew how to store them away when I was finished playing and using them. Over the years some of those things my parents or I have let go through garage sales, but the fact remains that they made it through the test of time. Items such as the “Game Bag” that I’m sitting on now in my tent, I received for Christmas when I was in Junior High. It’s made like a mini sleeping bag to cover you when you sit in the stands of an outdoor athletic event, but it works and fits perfectly as a pad on the floor of this tent for my dog Kora and me.
The tent was originally purchased from Montgomery Wards if I remember correctly, because I think it used to have a label patch on one of the corners. It was probably given for one of my birthdays early on in my years. In those days, our town had a Wards storefront where you could order items from their catalog and pick them up at the little building across from the fairgrounds in our town
At one point the tent was sadly stolen by a neighbor, but my Dad tracked down the culprit by following the footprints he had left in the dew covered grass. Thankfully it was returned. In my boyhood I would set it up quite often in various places around the woods surrounding our house and would lay in it to read or eat a lunch lovingly made by my mom. It was like a portable fort in the forest.
One of the best memories I have in the tent is when my Dad and I slept in it together on top of a hill at the property we had recently purchased. I’m not sure how he did it, but somehow we shared the space with his legs sticking out the flaps of the entrance. Although our family camped on a regular basis, that outing was adventurous and is forever etched in my mind. A few years later we had a house built on that land, and I would often hike up on that hill, sit down, and look out over the surrounding valleys and trees. The rocks from the fire-ring we had made during our camp-out were still there. It was a great view from that point of the hill. In fact, my sister Becky eventually planted a red pine and spruce that she had received for Arbor Day on top of that hill. Both trees are still there. Imagine camping there now, 40 years later, with the sound of wind in their towering, needled boughs. They are a crowning monument to that sacred spot.
My Daughter Jodi Next To My Sister's Trees-2009
When my own kids were small, I had the loops for the tent stakes repaired by a local awning maker who had the sewing machines big enough to stitch through the thick canvas. I’d periodically set it up for Todd and Jodi to play in. Typically they’d haul all of their blankets and stuffed animals out into it and then lay in it to read. Sometimes I’ve even set it up for the children of friends who are visiting so they could have the opportunity to play in it too; capturing the strong smells of the old canvas and sunlight filtering through its worn top.
Jodi & Todd - 2007
Hiking into the woods alongside a river today with my dog, Kora, I’ve seen two bald eagles, one that flew overhead and perched in a nearby tree to have a good view of the water below. I was also surprised to see a red-headed woodpecker with its distinctive black upper-wings; bigger than the hairy and downy woodpeckers. Prior to setting up the tent, we also had a herd of deer come close within range of us. Kora and I could see them coming before they could smell us and bound away. They are so ghost-like in the way they can appear and disappear between the trees and through the grasses. Later we heard half of the herd splash and swim across the river. The other half stayed on our side but seemed to spread out in different directions.
Kora & I Watching A Herd Of Deer
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Kora lays beside me, but she has been tense and alert the whole time I’ve been writing today, as she watches anything that moves outside and sniffs the light breeze for scents. I purposely placed the back of the tent towards the wind so that the sunlight shone in on the entrance and kept the confines a bit warmer, but still allowing Kora to capture smells beyond my reckoning.
I will cook a meal for us this early afternoon, and although I probably won’t have time to use my fishing pole to cast for that elusive river pike, I remind myself that today has mostly been about setting up my tent. I duct taped together some old plastic dog food bags to make a simple ground cover and then figured out how to lash the tent to the top of my backpack before I came out to the bottomlands today. It was the care and attention my tent deserved. Welcome back my old, green, canvas tent. Welcome back! We’ve endured quite a journey these long years, and I’ll venture to guess that we’ll still have some more adventures ahead of us. I can only hope!
See you along The Way...
Base Camp
Flocks Of Sandhill Cranes Head South
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It’s fresh air blowing in out of the WNW at 15-25 miles per hour; gusts are up into the 40’s. While the temperatures hover in the upper 50’s, it’s what amounts to a perfect fall day. It’s a day void of sunshine, but the winds fill in for comfort. With the late autumn foliage and it’s array of colors, it’s a great day for taking pictures without all of the otherwise distracting shadows.
This afternoon my wife Cindy and I came out to a favorite bluff-top ridge, overlooking a favorite river, in a favorite forest preserve here in the Stateline Area. We walked and talked and let our dog Kora run happy and carefree. Later we built a fire in the old limestone picnic shelter. It was a small fire made from the spark of my flint and steel, and embedded in the fibrous bark of a red cedar tree. From there I used small twigs I found on the ground from the surrounding hickories and burr oaks. I cut the dried cottonwood poles that I had brought along into ten inch sections to add to the sweet scent of the smoke. In my old aluminum pot I heated water for hot chocolate, and together with some pieces of coffee cake that Cindy had made yesterday, we settled in as we watched the cloud-veiled sun set in the southwest skies. Its dim rays showed through the treetops of the woods on the other side of the river.
While several barred owls serenaded us with their soft booming calls of, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?”, we peeled away the scales of stress and life. For this one moment of time, we took this precious shard from the jars of clay of which we are and allowed the winds to purge our souls.
I journaled while Cindy read; sometimes aloud when she came upon something poignant and symbolic to where we are in our journey through life. It gave us something to think upon as Kora ate her food and watched things beyond our senses in the woods surrounding us. Kora is ever alert, and I’ve learned through our outdoor ramblings to watch her, because she will notice wildlife and changes through the various sounds and smells long before I ever do. The flicker, a species of woodpecker, being the latest to catch her attention.
Now, as the embers glow, and the cool draft draws smoke up the old chimney, the darkness of the evening begins to creep in from the surrounding trees. It is not the fingers of shadows so common at sundown, but instead a pervasive feeling that permeates my inner being. I don’t find it foreboding, however, but instead embrace it and find strength within the darkness at the day’s end. We are smack dab in the throes of the changing seasons; on the heels of fall and at the doorstep of winter. The winds rattling the oak leaves overhead inform me of this, and I am listening.
See you along The Way…
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The Videos
The Wind From The Ridge Thundering Paws Up The Trail
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