Admittedly, there are days where I seek solitude despite my natural tendency to be a gregarious, people person. Yesterday, in spite of putting forth my best ability to be tolerant of the other humans (and animals) in my home, I found myself on edge. I could feel the tension building in the pit of my stomach like a rain-swollen stream that threatens to overspill its banks. Therefore, I knew today that it might be good to seek some solace away from the ever-present low hum of living that goes on in a metropolitan area no matter how removed you are from “downtown”.
The day started out overcast with scattered drizzle in an on-and-off staccato fashion. I set off to one of my favorite local hiking places knowing that while there would be a few folks out and about, there would definitely be moments where I could find the solitude that I was so desperately seeking. I chose this particular place because its 3,100 acres of field and thick forest would ensure that there was more than enough room to spread out, particularly if I decided to take to the trails versus the paved walking routes. I arrived and noticed about twenty vehicles in the parking lot. I parked close to the paved trailhead, locked my car, and headed into the woods. I started out on the paved trail, its mossy earthen scent a salve to my bruised soul. As I rounded a bend, I could see (and hear) what looked to be several pairs of people walking along the same route. I looked to my right and thought, AHA! I can take this short trail up the hill to meet the longer one I had hoped to access a bit farther up from said paved trail.
I stepped off of the human-inhabited paved trail and into a fall wonderland! I made my way quietly, and gingerly up the slope about thirty feet, stepped over a large root, and made the sharp right turn around a large oak tree to head further up the leaf-strewn hillside along the trail. As I looked up, I was stunned to see a large white-tailed doe quietly grazing on acorns in the middle of the trail. At my intake of breath, she raised her long, velvet neck, twitched her ears, and turned those large, dark, thickly lashed eyes in my direction. I stopped in my tracks and stood motionless. She looked majestic and the leaves at her feet bore the color of fire with their red, orange, and yellow hues. Discerning that I was no threat, she continued to use her muzzle to turn the leaves over and munch on acorns. I stood for some time observing her. Her coat was the color of creamed coffee, her belly a pristine white. Occasionally, her ears would twitch and she would raise her elegant head as she heard humans and their companion animals in the distance.
Head bent, rummaging through the leaves, her tail twitching, she turned to her right and I noticed that she was lame in her right hind leg. There were no obvious injuries but she was not putting weight on that leg. I remained still and watched her maneuver amid the trees and the leaves, no more than fifty feet from me. Despite what was likely an old injury, she seemed well-adjusted. I watched her in awe for quite some time and I suspect she watched me back at times through those lowered lashes. In spite of my own need for solitude, I knew that I wouldn’t disturb her grazing simply to access the wooded trail I sought. Silently, I withdrew and left her in peace, my heart fuller for having “communicated” with someone that neither looked like me nor spoke my language…
R.A. Grando 