“It looks too new…”

Deer ears twitched. A second pair, not as alert, plodded behind, then paused. The larger doe watched, then nibbled on a tender twig. She commenced walking north on the mid-hill trail with what little wind there was at her rump. The air was warm and humid, more like early October; unseasonable for late-November. There was… Continue reading “It looks too new…”

“The Finest British Soap…”

Cinnamon-colored hair rippled. A white tail flicked twice. Green oak leaves fluttered, coaxed alive by a warm, southwest breeze. The doe browsed on lush, belly-deep, dew-laden prairie grass. Yellow spears burst forth from the eastern tree line. Long shadows shrouded the meadow. The woodsman sat with his back to a modest red oak. The Northwest… Continue reading “The Finest British Soap…”

As Seasons Pass

Soft crunches…a steady cadence…upwind… Msko-waagosh paused. A foreleg stepped with no sound, a crackle, then the left foreleg stepped. An ear twitched. The doe’s head disappeared behind a thick oak tree. The returned white captive, taught the ways of the forest his adopted Ojibwe father, dropped to his right knee, taking the form of a… Continue reading As Seasons Pass

“Crazy Thought Time…”

A Tad Late Tuesday Missive… Three deer matted frail grass. The largest depression rested higher up the hill than the other two—bedding not more than the night prior. “A doe and her fawns,” the hired hunter whispered, his breath drifting in a tiny cloud. He grounded the butt of his Northwest gun, knelt and surveyed… Continue reading “Crazy Thought Time…”

As Needy as Little Kids

Wet corn stubble perfumed still air. A full moon, white and mellow, high to the west, guided buffalo-hide moccasins through dawn’s first glimmer. The night prior, before the drizzle, forty-plus geese gathered on the cornfield’s eastern-most knob. They took flight an hour after dark, ke-honking as they winged to the River Raisin, deep in the… Continue reading As Needy as Little Kids

What the Squirrel Woods Offers…

Two steps and a pause… Three huge red oak trees with short trunks and broad, spreading limbs stood on the next ridge west. Two steps and a pause… A host of tall, slender oaks, progeny of the three, populated the hill crest. Two steps and a pause… The air smelled warm and dry. “Caw, caw,… Continue reading What the Squirrel Woods Offers…

With Disgusted Relief…

Inquisitive fingers felt splintered openings. Msko-waagosh shook his head in amazement, the sulfurous stench of spent black powder still in his nostrils. Lead shot holes, shoulder-high on the returned white captive, peppered the barkless trunk of a dead red oak, but offered no answers to the woodland mystery. On that late October evening, in the… Continue reading With Disgusted Relief…