TAIL on the TRAIL

I was looking for inspiration today for a new blog post and feeling a tad melancholy, reflecting about the third anniversary of my cancer dx.  I'll be the first to admit I didn't think I'd still be here yet today.  I was going to journal about mushrooms or about finding the secret spring this past week, until I took a stroll down the northwest passage this morning, which of course is northwest of the cabin, and I found a tail on the trail.



There it laid, bright reddish orange in color with black trim around the edges, on the trail before me.  It had belonged to a red squirrel I suppose, and maybe it was leftover from a meal last night by a fox, a bobcat, or some other critter.  I picked the tail up, flipped it over, and dropped it back down in the spot where I found it.  Morning dew scattered water droplets on the fur.  Just as I put it down, a tiny shrew popped out beside it, then scurried buck under the leaves.

Death is all around us in nature.  It is an every day occurrence for animals to kill their prey and is necessary to help control population.  If one species becomes too abundant, others suffer, and life gets out of balance.  There are some animals that humans have to control because they have few or no natural predators.  Namely, where we live, overpopulation occurs with beaver, raccons, and whitetail deer if we don't intercede.  And so today, when finding this pretty little red tail on the trail, I have gathered the courage to share another tale with you that I've been keeping to myself.  It's a tale that needs to be told for those of you who follow my blog.

Two weeks ago, the three legged deer, often a subject of my posts, was harvested by a bow hunter.  The hunter didn't know she had three legs as she was partially behind a tree when the shot took place.  He had not been following my blog.  Admittedly, I shed a tear or two, when I learned of her demise, as she was kind of a survivor mentor to me.  After a short time, I thought hard, and accepted the facts that follow.  The three legged deer would no longer have to suffer and lurch forward in such painstaking ways every time she walked.  She would not be a victim of a wolf attack or starve to death this winter without the ability to paw away snow to find food.  She was able to reproduce at least two years and had two fawns.  She was a gift.  Sometimes we have to accept what is best and I have no hard feelings.  I've been a hunter myself and appreciate my own long family tradition of Wisconsin deer hunting.

As I sit with my journal by an oak tree along the northwest passage, not far from the tail on the trail, I open my ears to the sounds of blue jays and gray squirrels chattering.  The combination of red, orange, and yellow leaves on the trees, along with those yet still green, and golden cluster of ferns make magic throughout the woods that surround me.

I hear leaves crunching to the east, and look up to see a large group of turkeys passing through, single file, stretching their necks up and down.

There is always something to hear and see in the woods if you look hard enough and have patience, and fall is a grand time of year.

I hope you can get out there and enjoy the season!