The pure simplicity of walking

Simple and functional shelter

I am very excited about the upcoming backpacking trip to Virgin Falls with my Boy Scout troop this weekend. No backwoods travel captures my imagination like the adventure of backpacking. I guess it reveals me to be a geek, but I love paying attention to all the little details of each item in my kit. I love the freedom that comes with going light in the wild. The pure simplicity of lightweight backpacking speaks to me.

Total weight = 20 lbs.

Our trailhead

Our trailhead is always a good place to start a walk, saunter, or meander

This is the opening to the trailhead in our backyard. The trail is a 0.7 mile loop to the back of hollow. It's not a long trail, but it covers lots of interesting and scenic territory--some of it on very steep hillsides. This trail is always a good place to be.

End of daylight savings time

With barely perceivable motion, the earth continues spinning through its orbit round the sun while people think we're affecting daylight by fiddling with our clocks. Daylight saving time ended last night, so we all set our clocks back one hour. No doubt we'll all hear people complaining that it's getting dark too early, and they wish "they would just leave it alone so we'd have more daylight." The truth is that, in Nashville, today will be about 2 minutes shorter than yesterday.

Long ago we seemed to have forgotten that humans must adapt to the earth, not vice versa.

I often wonder whether we'd be better off if we would adjust our days to the rising and the setting of the sun. What if we didn't artificially prolong our days with electric lights and televisions that keep us up half the night? What if we basically slept or rested quietly all night and then rose with the sun each day? Summer days would naturally be longer, and so would be the times when we'd get more work done. Conversely, winter would be a time for more sleep and rest indoors.

I know this sounds completely impractical, even crazy, in today's modern world. But I would point out that it wasn't so long ago that people lived exactly this way. Our lives were ruled not by the clock, but by the sun and the earth and the weather.

First hard frost

We had our first hard frost of the season last night. The overnight low was in the mid 20s here in the hollow.

White-throated Sparrow, another sign of autumn

Another sign of the changing seasons. I heard the first song of White-throated Sparrow singing in the woods today. They have a beautiful, lyrical song, described as "Oh-sweet-canada-canada" or "Old-Sam-Peabody-Peabody." We heard them constantly while paddling and camping in Quetico Provincial Park this past June. White-throats spend the summer breeding in Canada and they winter in our woods here in the U.S.

Hickory nuts the squirrels left behind

This evening I returned home from the woods with a pocket full of hickory nuts that had somehow escaped the attention of the squirrels, or so I thought. Just a few minutes ago I got out the nutcracker and went through the bowl full of nuts, carefully breaking them open one by one. Not a single one had good nutmeat inside! I guess the discerning squirrels were able to tell this without even breaking them open. I am not so skilled.

Leaves of autumn

In these autumn woods,
green turning yellow above
and yellow turning brown below,
leaves pile upon the floor,
adding rustling and swishing sounds
and a deep, earthy perfume
to my walk among the trees.

I love the autumn woods!

Chatter in the hollow

Lots of chatter among the Barred Owls in the hollow tonight. It's enough to make a nervous person think the place is haunted. Maybe it's the nearly-full moon.

Coyotes & persimmons

I had heard before that coyotes were known to eat persimmons. Now I have proof positive. In the edge of the lawn, very near where the 3 coyotes entered the woods the other night, there is coyote scat full of persimmon seeds. You see they don't just eat neighborhood cats and small poodles!

Coyotes and the return of the wild

At 3:10 am last night I looked out the bathroom window just in time to watch 3 coyotes walking across the yard. I was thrilled! Their light coat barely stood out in the darkness. They moved across the yard as smoothly as shadows. Almost immediately they passed from view, but I picked them up again out the back window just before they slipped into the forest. I returned to bed content and happy just knowing the coyotes are out there.

I know coyotes don't have much of a fan club. Indeed, I am sure they are feared and vilified by most of my neighbors. But I am glad they're here in our woods. It is becoming increasingly clear to ecologists that most healthy ecosystems need a top predator (see Stolzenburg's Where the Wild Things Were for a summary the of current understanding). The wolves and cougars that once lived in the area are long ago (and likely forever) gone. Although less fierce and effective in the role of top predator, coyotes are beginning to fill the void.

For me the coyotes do something more. They bring something that cannot be measured in terms of biodiversity and the estimated ecosystem health. Coyotes return wild to the woods. When hiking alone at night, the howl of nearby coyotes first bring shivers and then a heightened alertness. I am reminded of all that is free and untamed and my walk becomes so much more than exercise or stress-relief.

Yosemite Coyote

I know the interface between predator and human is complicated. Homeowners in wild places need to take precautions to make sure they don't loose small pets or chickens. But coexistence with predators is possible. Personally, I believe that it it is not only possible, but desirable.

Helpful information on coexistence with coyotes in the Nashville area can be found at www.nashvillecoyotes.com.

On a related note, here is an interesting article about the breeding habits of urban coyotes published at ScienceDaily. Urban Coyotes Never Stray: New Study Finds 100 Percent Monogamy.

Cool morning

37º on the back porch at 6:30 this morning. Autumn is surely here.

Mushrooms on the beech

Surface of newly fallen dead beech log
(click for detail)

Sycamores and seasons

The light of autumn is still only changing subtly, but even now the leaves of the sycamore are turning from green to khaki. Soon they will cover the forest floor beneath their parent tree, piling up to create a deep, durable winter blanket. I'm not sure why, but I have always had an affinity to large, old sycamore trees. I look forward to winter when they slough off large, thin, brown patches and their remaining white trunks stand out like ivory towers in the forest. Ghost trees in the forest.

Tilt of the planet

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the dark summer forest lightens as our planet circles about the sun and slowly begins to tilt the other way to bring a change of season. Exhausted summer leaves drop and begin to accumulate, brown and dry upon the forest floor. Walking seems easier in the airy forest.

Here and there among the leaves above and below spots of color no longer green capture my gaze. More and more sunflecks pierce the thinning canopy, shining slow-moving spotlights upon a forest floor that for weeks and weeks has been mostly dark.Cottonwood leaves are dull and faded green up in the trees. Occasionally a rusty red sassafras leaf adds a brighter note on the floor. And in places you'll see tulip poplar leaves as yellow as any school bus or child's rain slicker.

It is becoming impossible not to think of autumn days ahead.

Corvidae and the fog

Blue Jays and Crows both fill the morning with their raspy calls. Clearly they are cousins. You can hear it in their voice.

Even as the corvid cousins help the coffee wake me to fuller consciousness, a dripping fog fills the yard flowing fluid down the hollow. For the moment the blue sky and the rising sun are obscured. It even seems to lightly rain as fog condenses and drips from the cool air.

There is a hint, a promise, of autumn in the air. Like a blanket, the morning fog and familiar corvids wrap the house in a sense of calm and well-being.