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Even planet’s smallest corners offer relaxation

By Staff | Feb 24, 2013

Appearing like an apparition from the middle of a snow shrouded mist, the small hawk keeled sharply in a tight banking turn as he saw my form beneath his path of flight. Just as suddenly as he had materialized, he quickly melted back into the veil of whiteness falling from the sky.

The hawk’s magic act had happened so quickly – now you see it, now you don’t – that I wasn’t able to identify this rakish little speedster of the raptor family, although I did thoroughly enjoy his brief appearance in my world. Or was it the other way around?

Whistling my dog Riley back to me, I asked him if he knew the type of hawk it was that had passed so quietly through our midst? His response was to lean against me in hopes of a scratch behind the ear before we continued on our way.

Being a native of New England it was not overly unusual to be hiking through the woods and fields of the surrounding countryside while all about me the snow falls like it is supposed to at this time of the year. A quiet hike on a snowy day is not only great exercise but one of the most quiet, relaxing activities you can pursue afield at this time of the year.

All about me the woods hiss with the sound of settling snowflakes drifting through the gray world of late winter’s slumber. The insulating quality of the white covering mutes out harsh sounds of a bustling society, a society oblivious to the din it makes as it goes about the tasks of being a modern world.

The woods seem barren and somewhat lonely in the snowy covering, seemingly devoid of any life and any sense of habitation other than the skeletons of bare trees.

However, to my pleasure, the quiet hush of the snow allows me to blend in better with the surroundings; to become one of creatures of this small wood rather than an outside interloper. Stopping motionless beside a large Hemlock, I move only my eyes and observe a world I zoom by almost daily but rarely take the time to enjoy as much as I could.

The Hemlock boughs bounce lightly with the sudden appearance of a pair of Black Capped Chickadees as they stop to check me out and see what my purpose is in being here. Maybe they recognize me from the filling of the feeders in the backyard or maybe my reputation as a provider of black oil Sunflower seeds has preceded me to this silent spot. I smile at their smartly dressed plumage while they decide I’m really not of any undue concern and flit off through the falling snowflakes.

A blue jay slides quietly past through the snowy haze, his silence a mute testimony to my unobtrusive presence in his world.

How nice to stand still for a few moments and not have an overbearing impact on the world around you. What a peaceful feeling to be part of this world and not disturb it, if only for a short while. Squirrel tracks, mouse tunnels through the snow and Nuthatches clinging upside down on the rough bark of a Red Oak tree all make up a piece of this unique part of the planet we dwell upon.

Despite its outward appearance of emptiness this piece of habitat is anything but. In an area much smaller than Christopher Robin’s hundred acre woods is a world filled with seeps and springs and a small stream anxious for the awakening of frogs that live along its banks and the lichen covered boulders left here by some ancient glacier that passed by eons ago.

Laurel bushes along the edge of a small field wait for the warming sun as do the Maple trees whose trunks now begin to fill in readiness to pump the sweet fluid of life upwards from their roots to branches tipped with the buds of new life. From the Hemlocks of the bottom lands to the White Pines around the hillside, all about me in this wooded world are the signs of an approaching rebirth of life.

As I wander quietly on my snowy late winter hike through this magical corner of the world I see that this is not a barren landscape at all but a small corner of the planet eagerly anticipating the return of the sun and warmth of a new season.

Softly whistling my setter to my side, I turn about to leave, my relaxation complete for now. Much like the surroundings around me, I too am winter weary and ready for the new season just ahead – how about you?

Gordon Lewis is an area resident, lifelong sportsman and outdoor writer. He can be reached with
comments or feedback at
parkergun@gmail.com.

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