Morels

I had my first encounter with a morel mushroom last weekend. I had never seen one before except in pictures so I was excited, especially since the finds are rare. I wrote about the experience on freshare.net and you can read that article here: The Morel of the Story.

What was surprising to me was that morels didn't taste as exotic as I expected. I thought I would discover a musky, woodsy kind of flavor but what I got was a mushroom so mild it barely tasted like a mushroom at all. I mean, it was good and I ate my share but I expected something, I don't know, maybe stronger in flavor? Something that would linger on my taste buds.

But don't read this as total disappointment. I'll be back after the oddly interesting little fungi same time next year.

Odd Backyard Critters

I'm beginning to wonder if we have some mutations in the animal gene pool around my house. Last Spring, a white dove settled in for a meal of birdseed under one of my feeders. Now, a tailless squirrel and and his stubby-tailed cousin are frequenting the feeders.

By the way they move, it seems both squirrels must have been born without the trademark bushy tails average squirrels sport. Neither seems hampered by balance issues unless trying some quirky move so it makes me think the little guys adapted at an early age.

The tailless guy has the oddest appearance at first glance and it makes you wonder if it's a rat you see streaking across the front lawn. His cousin has a bushy tail, it's just that the thing is very short. Abnormally so.

I have a photo of the white dove, but I have yet to capture an image of the squirrels.

Long Walks in the Woods

I'm sitting here wearing my hiking boots and that made me think about a long hike I took the weekend before Christmas. A nearly three hour trek through the Arkansas hills and woods.

It was a cold day, mist rose from the wet creek bed along the path. I saw several deer, found a cave, uncovered a rock to find a sleepy salamander. Found some old scrapes a buck made the month before, poked around a couple of old house places and finally got to the river. My favorite place.

I drank in the sights, the smells, the sounds of water moving along its trip to the sea. Quenched and renewed. That's what long walks in the woods are for.

Weather Related

Well, the ice storm I talked about in the last post did not affect our immediate area too badly. We just had a little accumulation on the trees and none on the roads. To our west and throughout much of Oklahoma it was a lot worse. Hundreds of thousands lost power and some are still without power.

Last weekend, we were ready for a major snowstorm that meteorologists were predicting could dump up to 10 inches of snow. Temperatures remained higher than expected and we mostly got rain. We did get a couple of inches of snow Saturday night, but it was gone by Sunday afternoon.

The Woods

I was out in the woods over the weekend. Deer season. Arrived before first light. I climbed into my tree, had a cup of coffee and stared up at the stars, listened to coyotes howl about half a mile away and deer move cautiously on dry leaves.

As the stars melted into morning, Venus was the last to give up her light. And soon, the blackness turned to gray then to full color as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Two does, startled by something I could not see, passed directly in front of my stand. Running, ducking under branches, escaping. I let them pass. A fawn was following, confused, and got separated from the two. Hopefully, they found each other again.

That was the end of my deer sightings in the woods that day. The weather was too warm, too windy for deer to move well. But it didn't matter. For seven hours, maybe eight, I was at one with the woods, with nature, with the great outdoors, and nothing else mattered. The real meaning of deer season.

Whose Woods Are These

Actually, I do know whose woods these are and his house isn't in the village, it's on the property. This is where I've gone deer hunting every year for the past fourteen seasons. It's comprised of a couple hundred or so acres with a large pasture, lots of woods, pond, creeks, springs and plenty of deer habitat. Not that I see deer every year or even fill my tag every year. That's not the point. I really enjoy venison, but getting a deer is just a bonus. The real pleasure is derived from witnessing the woods' reawakening after a night's slumber.

I arrive well before first light so I can wrestle my climbing tree stand into position and set it up for the morning - haul up my backpack filled with binoculars, snacks, lunch, a thermos of coffee, extra hat and gloves should the weather turn nasty, and my camera.

Then I wait. Silence. And watch. A hoot owl in the distance momentarily breaks the silence. Quiet again. The gentle crunch of a deer hoof on snow. Silence. A snort. Just checking, testing. I answer. Silence. Then a reply as she snorts back. The gentle crunch continues. The deer I spoke to but could not see ambles off, content. Slowly, cautiously, dawn steps on stage and the flutter of bird wings in flight hushes through the departing silence. The juncos and chickadees begin to sound and take flight. Soon the grey squirrels ramble about, looking for breakfast. They find a nut, sit back and admire it in their hands like some precious gem before taking a bite or burying the prize where they'll never find it again. More birds arrive - bluebirds, cardinals, downy woodpeckers. The air fills with activity. Everyone's hungry and in search of an easy meal. I pour a cup of coffee and munch on some fig bars. Finally, the fox squirrels arise - late as usual - almost yawning as they they scurry up and down trees.

Every year it's the same, yet every year brings something different, too. Sometimes it may be a flock of geese or ducks, or a red fox upset because he detected my scent but did not consider looking up to find me in my stand, or dozens of raccoons perched in trees until wandering off at the crack of dawn.

This year, it was a couple inches of wet snow covering the ground during the second rifle season. That made tracks easy to spot and there were lots of them. All sizes, too, from fawns to buck prints four inches long. Sign was easy to spot and so were deer, at least the few that arrived.

I got my bonus this year, but I am most thankful for being there several mornings this fall as the woods woke up to a rhythm set in motion long before my arrival and destined to repeat itself well after my departure.