A walk in the woods reveals beauty, activity, preparation

The September woods call to me as I leave behind husband and dog. The air has cooled, but the humidity lingers – a reminder that summer is not far past. The crickets and cicadas continue with their rhythmic chants providing background to the sonata of forest bird songs.

As I walk the trail, silvery spider webs cross before me, a guard in the center of each post patiently waiting for an unsuspecting victim to tangle in its lair. I apologize as my stick loosens the tightly-strung trap, releasing the silvery threads before my pace.

Surely, I must look like some foreign visitor to this quiet solitude, a laptop in one hand, a stick in the other and binoculars hung around my neck. I wonder if these woodland dwellers have come to recognize this strange being with her electronic notebook and enlarged round, telescopic black eyes. The stick-tights and burrs are ripe, clinging to me ready for their seeds to be deposited in distant places to continue their circle of life.

I arrive at my resting spot, settle in and wait. The air is thick but thankfully cool. A train bellows in the distance, traveling to far-off places. The woodpeckers have become more active within the last week. The red-bellied have begun their jungle calls, and the almost squirrel-like chittering of the red-headed fills the air. I hear early-morning pounding, no doubt, fall cleaning of holes; ensuring the winter dens and stores are ready.

The squirrels are enjoying the fruits of the local nut trees: hickory, walnut, and oak. Their chewing and chattering add a noisy cacophony to the ever-present din of the crickets.

A feeling of being watched envelopes me, and I look up, two large black eyes stare. The eyes gaze, unblinking, surrounded by striped feathers – a barred owl. He sits and continues his stare. I don’t move. He and I just look at each other, our eyes lost in the depths of the others. “What is he thinking?” I wonder to myself. “Is he just waiting to see if I am friend or foe? Waiting to see if I’ll move?”

He grows bored of staring, or at least pretends to, and closes his eyes to small slits. I know this is just a ploy. I’ve seen owls do this many times. I’ve wondered if they do this, so their large round, black eyes don’t stand out amongst the backdrop of the trees. By looking through the slits, their eyes more closely match the stripes of their camouflaged feathers.

Testing this theory, I raise my arm and his eyes open quickly to watch my intrusion into his forest home more closely. I remain still so I don’t alert him further, and after a long while he relaxes with his eyes half-closed again.

I see a small bird jumping to and fro high in the tree canopy. It is too far for me to recognize and so I bring up my binoculars. A northern parula! I’ve heard them in these woods before and yet only been able to glimpse them a few times. With a bright yellow throat and breast, blue-gray head, and yellow-green back patch this tiny bird is a true thrill to see!

Another morning in our September woods has brought me peace and offered solitude to the week’s busy schedule. I rise from my resting spot, secretly bidding the owl goodbye. Returning home I am forever thankful for our very special green spaces.