Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey
While Paul rested, I took the truck and headed towards a nearby stream. I've
explored that stream countless times before, but this morning, I had the want
to venture deeper into the woods. With my knee still recovering from injury, I
chose to start by following an old tote road to avoid any strain. Eventually, I
veered off towards a wetter area. Along the way, I noticed deer tracks,
droppings, and a spot where a moose had recently passed. Intrigued, I decided
to follow the moose, listening for the telltale crunch of its steps, hoping to
catch a glimpse before it reached the meadow-like area.
As I pushed deeper into the woods, the terrain became increasingly
challenging. My feet sank into soft ground, and I navigated through thick
alders. Occasionally, I heard low grunts, as if the moose invited me to
respond, but I remained silent. Continuing onward, I found myself balancing unsteadily
on tree roots and fragile alder branches, determined to follow the trail.
Eventually, I reached a point where further progress became impossible. The
moose, far more capable than I in navigating such terrain, continued
gracefully, its presence occasionally audible through the trees and my own
internal groans with near-fall after near-fall.
If only I had its long legs and balance!
Disappointed, I turned back, retracing my steps with careful balance. Back
at the truck, I felt a sensation on my forearm. Assuming it was a fly or
spider, I brushed at it absentmindedly until I realized it was a tick crawling
up my arm. This was only the second time I've encountered a tick in this area,
both instances occurring away from camp while navigating dense thickets. I
could do without the ticks but have to wonder if the tick missed a ride on a
moosie, or hopped off and I was just the next victim.
Often, while wandering through the woods, I find myself irresistibly drawn
to game trails. Every part of me longs to follow these paths, always hoping to
catch a glimpse of a creature pausing to figure out what kind of animal I am.
If I'm not bound by a pressing agenda, like searching for wild edibles, I often
stand there, seriously debating whether I should abandon my current task to
explore the trail. It’s a constant inner struggle not to redirect my focus and
say to myself, “I’ll loop back around after I see where this goes.” But through
these moments of diversion, I’ve learned so much—like recognizing the subtle
animal track by an upturned leaf or distinguishing how animal prints vary
across different landscapes, elevation changes, etc. It’s instinctive, it’s the
lure and love of the woods -a passion!
