A Morning Walk Reveals A Natural Treasure In The Woods

We came upon this treasure in the forest this morning.

The heavy rains of last night and the early morning stopped, at least for a while, and offered us a window for walking in the forest.  Everything was richly colored.  Green leaves in full bloom glistened; the floor was bronze with fallen pine needles soaked through; tree bark was saturated and dark, verging on black in some cases; and the air was washed clean, wrung out, and left as welcoming as laundry hung on the line to dry.

A few mosquitos buzzed around us and I waved them away with my hat.  The only other sound in this silent world was the random plop of a vociferous raindrop leaving a higher leaf to drop onto a lower one. 

In the cool that enveloped us, Atticus trotted along happily, sniffing where other animals had been, and turning back to check on me. 

There was a scent to the forest to let me know that another season, while two months away, is coming.  That's one of the things I find most beautiful about the mountains.  Here, even in the midst of a hot summer, there are glimpses of autumn.  It could be when the evening falls and the stars rise and chilly temperatures visit us.  Or it could be on a morning like this one, when the density of July is rinsed away and the air is easy to breathe. 

After walking for thirty minutes, Atticus stopped and looked up into a tree and then he threw his glance back to me.  When I caught up to him I saw he had discovered this humble home probably four five feet off the ground. 

It was too wet for him to want to sit but it was clear he wanted to stay - so we did.  I squatted next to him and we watched as the nest coughed out inhabitants every thirty seconds.  They'd fly away and return home again.  None of them bothered us even though I could have easily reached out and touched the nest.    

I know Atticus's eyes are failing.  There have been signs of it over the past eighteen months.  It's common at his age.  But he noticed every winged creature come and go and he only took his eyes from them to look at me.  In response I'd run my hand over his head, fluff his ears, then rub his back as we took in this simple show. 

We never know what we'll see in the forest, but it's always a wonder.  And always a reminder that we are but visitors to the homes of others.  Live and leave be is easy here.  Land has been protected from developers and no one is saying "we own this".  It's share and share alike. 

It had me thinking of the way bears visit those of us who live in the mountains.  There are some who are not from around here who seem almost incensed that a bear would have the audacity to walk into a person's yard, come up on a deck, look in a window, or even open a car door.  They often say a call to the forest service is warranted to remove the bear and bring him elsewhere.    

The bears come and go here. As do fox and moose and deer. As do various birds.  And chipmunks and red squirrels.  It's part of the grand spectacle and we're fortunate enough to take it all in. 

(The bears bring with them a comic side as well.  They watch us, hidden to our eyes in the nearby brush, and learn to open car doors.  It’s especially interesting when the bears do this and somehow the door closes and they are stuck inside.  It seems to happen every year or two that someone leaves their house, locks the door, has a cup of coffee in hand for the drive to work, only to see a black bear sitting in their car.  I laugh at the specter of it.  Interestingly enough, I don't lock the car here because of people, but because of bears, even though bears appear to be more trustworthy than what the evening news reports about our own species.)


All of us, all animals, including humans, live here together.  It's easy to remember that when walking in the forest and coming upon the homes of another.  In this morning's case, we played the roles of the bears and I was grateful that we were not considered intruders and attacked because we decided to pause and watch the comings and goings of another species. 

John Muir has a great line and it pertains to way “civilized” people see the “wild” world. “How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies!  How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!”

I imagine we’ll be walking by this humble forest home again and when we do we’ll stop and watch for a while, as we did this morning.  Thankfully, we’ll not be considered trespassers, just curious passersby tramping along a trail.

The world is a small place and getting smaller, thanks to human hunger for control and dominance.  We could learn some lessons from the bears, chipmunks, and (even) the wasps who find a way to live around our selfishness. 

Empathy goes a long way, if we are willing enough to put ourselves in the place of others, especially those silent souls whose lives we infringe upon.