Earlier, in the summer, my husband had a burst of enthusiasm
and did some heavy bush hogging and general clearing on our property. Once paths were cleared he had the idea to
relocate the hunting shed he kept in the back of our property to a closer spot
where we could use it as a place to sit and watch deer in real time instead of the
once a week images from the game cameras we have scattered around. He outfitted the former sheep shed with some
old carpet scraps and equally old chairs and covered the opening with camouflage
netting. As summer waned and fall crept in, astrologically at least, he tilled up
the newly cleared pasture and planted it with good things for the deer, and
some things for us, to eat. Our plan was
to sit in the shed at dusk and watch them come out to graze. Good plan.
I had the day off today for a medical procedure, and like a
good and loyal husband he stayed home with me.
Maybe he felt contractually obligated because he had to sign a paper saying
he would keep me from doing anything stupid, like drive myself home. So, after I slept off the sedation and last night’s
leftovers were consumed we figured it was the perfect time, and most likely the
last weekday of the season, to go out and sit as we had planned to do so many
months ago.
While it was still fully light we settled in our dust
covered chairs, and I tried to clear my mind of any spiders lurking in the
shadows. Husband had his hiking stick so we were good to go if any venomous snake
squatters needed a spike to the head. We
waited quietly and watched as the northwest sky we faced faded from blue to gray
to a light shade of coral it clung to until the sky was no longer visible. We were quiet, nature was not.
If you want to know just how loud nature is, go out in it
and be quiet. I’m almost convinced a city street during rush hour may be quieter
than the woods at nightfall. The first break of our peace came from an unseen bird
who flew squawking from one tree to another with the grace of rhino charging
through the bush. It settled on a branch in front of us and began a call and
response to its counterpart somewhere in the distance.
Meanwhile, as acorn
bombs ricocheted off the shed’s metal roof a Carolina Wren almost joined us
inside. She did a dramatic about-face
when she saw her roost was otherwise occupied. In retaliation she found a perch behind us and
proceeded to lambaste us for trespassing. Before long she stirred up an angry
mob and a chorus of pouting wrens surrounded the shed. I’m sure any deer within earshot was not going
near the predator attacking the innocent wrens.
As the light faded so did their grumblings and the night lulled them into
slumber. Ah, peace. No chance. When the
birds were finally quiet the frogs, crickets and other night bugs turned up the
volume.
As darkness fell through the trees the new green of the food
plot glowed in the fading light. I
watched a bat swooping over it for dinner, and wished it would come in the shed to feast
on the mosquitos that were having me for dinner. I saw a pinprick of light close to greenness and focused on the spot until I saw another.
Fireflies this late in the season? Then I thought I saw something dark
and low to the ground run into the path between pastures. Hopefully the cameras
picked it up for Saturday viewing.
When the glow of green became diffused by a fog rising from the
creek we called it a day. Walking back
to the house in the cool damp of the mist I was reminded of every Daphne Du
Maurier novel I’ve ever read. Except
this is Sumrall, Mississippi, not the moors or craggy cliffs of England. “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again.”, and the rest. If only the pond was the
crashing sea. I digress into my English romance novel-filled youth (sigh).
The deer did not come out on our watch tonight, but I
imagine they’re out there now, partying it up and taking turns in the
photo-booth. We’ll have to wait till
Saturday to see what we missed when we have our weekly ritual of checking the
cameras.
Not a wasted evening by any means. “Be still and know that I
am God” He said. Try it sometime, if only for a few minutes. I continue to have
trouble hearing His voice, but He fills me with song through creation, grouchy
wrens and all. I did not see, but I
listened and heard.
