Nap for November

to sleep in the raspy music of wind
crackling leaves on barren trees
to sleep under blankets of mother sun
deer bedded under the mountain's eaves

Happy Thanksgiving!

Deer TV

(Photos: Infrared trail camera.)

Autumn Shadows (With Eyes)

Arriving on the mountain. High above sleeping houses. Well after dark.






Coyotes following. Tracking us. Bright eyes watching in the night.

Why You Don't Use Meatballs to Get Wildlife Pictures

Harvest on the Vine

nature's window wide
outside-in to step inside
red sows our downfall

Anyone Home?

Ever wonder who's knocking on your door when you're not home? We especially do when it comes to our cabin in the mountains.


Deer me. Nobody home? It's so fawn when those wacky humans are around. What am I going to doe now?




Missed them again? I can't bear it. What a boar.

We hang out in an interesting neighborhood. Can't wait to see who shows up for tea.

Overheard in the Forest

November Poem (In Four Visions)

Last year's winter dreams
Slither on ice crystal leaves
Yellows draining to browns
Purple briars fingers
Clawing back to ground



Green hemlocks listen
Their bones don't scratch
Still touched with sun
In bright blazing winter



November kisses my cheeks
Cold mask walking
On sprouts of spiky moss
Soft and crying
Their dying days



The mountain towers over the valley
Dark, ruminating grey
Sun glows in the clouds
Breaks
A moment of bright
Cheers the end of day.

Bucks

"Get in there!"

"No. You get in there."

"Jesus, you're pathetic. Come on! Stand up, look them in the eye, and claim what's yours."

"After the day I had, I don't think I have the strength to stand up."

"You know what the trick is? Eye contact. You don't break eye contact. Keep the intensity. Smolder, man."

"I'll leave the smoldering to you."

"I'm seriously horny."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

"Like, on a scale from 0 to 10, I'm a huge ten."

"I see your point."

"How about you? How are you feeling? Ready to lock horns?"

"I'm an eight on the horny scale. Maybe a small seven."

"A seven's not going to do it tonight, man. Look at them out there. One talking to her friend. A little group over there sipping their drinks. Another pair glancing around the room. I'm ready to feel the call of wild!"

"Go for it. I'll be over here. Trying not to laugh."


(Pictures from an infrared StealthCam in Starlight, Wayne County, Pennsylvania.)

August Forest

In the quiet August sun....

The crickets mourn the whithering day
As goldenrod feasts in breezes sway

Caterpillars race against the autumn cold
Dark dreaming sleep when year is old

Secretive mushrooms, the rains betray
Chanterelle sunsets from trails astray

High-hopping thieves glisten with gold
Masked Mr. Wood Frog says, "oh, I'll give you something to hold."

We're a Little Batty

Sunday, July 6th
Circa 11:00 a.m.
Northeastern Pennsylvania Forests


I didn't believe it when my daughter said, "there's a bat."

Practically in the midday sun?

Maybe it was a butterfly.

I turned the corner onto the heavily forested road and saw a bat flutter down and land on the ground. Right there in the grass. Damn. The kid wasn't lying.

"I just saw it land," I said. "That can't be good."

"Why?" my daughter said.

"Because bats are the most common carrier of rabies. And we haven't had our shots."

I had my camera. I debated going for a closer look.

"Go get a picture!" Aine said.

I straightened. Damn, she must really want to collect on that life insurance.

Of course, I went.

Carefully.

(Note, do not try this at home. I'm highly trained in foolishness. Like that time I tried to grab that unidentified, prehistoric fish in the river. But I digress....)

The moment I saw why it landed, the bat (hereinafter referred to as "mom") proceeded to kick into a blazing rendition of Kenny Loggins Danger Zone and pulled some sweet top gun moves on me. Having the presence of mind to get the camera into the fight (after nearly tripping backwards on my butt), I secured the following acrobatics.

Coming around after executing a reverse Immelman:

The dreaded wing-to-face maneuver:

Clearly outmatched, we yielded air superiority to our honorable foe. You see, she had good reason to get all Goose and Maverick on our asses:

This little tyke must have fallen from a nursery in a nearby snag. Mom was trying to calm him or feed him or something. I'm afraid the odds are against him, but we did place a piece of log over him. He's snug in there, and mom can easily crawl under. We'll see. Maybe mom can figure something out.

Peace, brother batbaby. Hope you make it!

Humidity

Night tucks like a sticky blanket over bare skin and kicked away sheets.

The moon illuminates the haze.

Through the open window, precious little breeze slides down the mountain. Deer thread the invisible trailways and blink their black eyes without sleep.

We stir and yawn.

Mosquito wings whir in the dew drop humidity.


(Picture: The midnight forest, Wayne County, Pennsylvania.)

Salamander

Spotted Salamander
(Ambystoma maculatum)
A species of mole salamander living most of its life
underground. It can be found closer to the surface
in the cool, wet days of spring.

She licked hunger from the air.

Baptized it with teeth.

Gleaming and panting for blood.

His rock-vein hands squeezed her onto a precipice. She climbed his man lines, clawed him like a tipping mountain.

And she begged for it to fall.

Above them, the forest leaves with her spellbound legs, shivering, then clenched. Like roots deciding to splinter stone.

Images squirmed. Wet and living.

She thought of salamanders tunneling in the deep. And the nameless things they did there.

He crushed against her.

Salamanders poured and spiraled. Clutching. Nibbling a protoplasm earthquake.

The torn soil drank her scream.

He sank into her.

Some part of him gone.

In the dark of her closed eyes, butterflies wandered. Drowned in the smell of Earth, the colorful stars lived only in her eyes.

Trillium

Painted Trillium*
(Trillium undulatum)

~~~
Three by three by three
Odd Trillium symmetries
Older than the stones
~~~


Red Trillium*
(Trillium erectum)

*Taken in the mountains of Northeastern Pennsylvania this weekend before a high spring rain.

De Niro of the Forest

Yo. Are you talking to me?


Are you talking to ME?
I'm the only one here, so you must be talking to me.


You want some horn? Here, I'll give you some horn.


Mount this on your wall, ya dirty %$&#*@!

Wow. It's getting rough in the forest these days. Even the coyotes were all howly and looking for trouble.

Maybe I'll find some peace and quiet in the city.

(Stealthcam I230IR trail camera, Wayne County, Pennsylvania.)

High Summer Forest

Buckwheat
(Fagopyrum esculentum)

Honeybees, absent for years, wrestle again among the white blooms.

Woodland foodplot
(Approx. 1/4 acre)

They wave in the meadow knitting seed for the harvest moon.

Smooth Chanterelle
(Cantharellus lateritius)

Orange jewels push among last year's leaves.

While she whispers my presence to what moves in the trees.

Crouching to Feel Snow

blink.blink.blink.blink
sun shadows
flash
the motion
of morning trees
brown vines
branches
poke through
brilliant snow

blur close
then slow deeper
the forest turns
like a circle
that never bends
peer deep
through the
blink.blink.blink.blink
eyes stinging
swallow the motion
and see the entirety
there
color
the flank of a deer

I walk there too
still belong
time has not
confused
the respect
of a predator stare