Sunday, November 29, 2009

Afternoon Activities: Mountaineering; Tracking Investigation, 11-20-09

The rain finally stops. In the warming wet air, golden light filters through silhouettes of Macramé foliage as if punched through black felt. Mist rises through knitted branches revealing patches of trees and meadow. Here and there, vireos and sparrows utter and sing. They warp and weave, shadows filtering through the clearing. Somewhere deer find a place to lie down among the young spruce, not thinking, simply knowing the complexity in the blanket that surrounds them. As dew dangles on silver threaded web, I wonder, where would a strand lead? What would be at the end of it? What is the organizing principal? To whom belongs the loom?


At the edge of the clearing, in transition from dark to light is the first track. It is fresh. The ground is wiped clean with depressions level and the leaves made flat by the rain. We fan out and sweep the edge looking for signs. A green-spiraled beech bud points to bare earth. Beneath its limb the leaves are scraped aside. It is the mating sign of a large buck. Our small group comes together to ask: What is happening here? How many animals? Why are they here?


We review our clues, state our theories and prioritize our next step. Skidding tracks on a slippery stone rewards our conclusions: a buck following a doe following water. The spring soon leads to a forest highway. Veering to the southwest is a groove in the earth running parallel to the hillside and muddy with tracks. Our excitement mounts, yet we still know so little. What needs do the deer have, only procreation? Where are food, shelter and safety? Ahead are foraged Moose Maple and deer droppings among a grove of Beech.


After once again loosing the trail, we re-group to problem solve when Billy says "hush"! He and Ellen hear a noise. Peter calls out. Derek crouches and points. A flash of white disappears over the rise. A deer is spooked from its bed beneath a hemlock canopy only a stone’s throw away. Now, the fabric is reversed. She is somewhere hidden and watching us. Again, we come together and continue to unravel the connected mysteries in the life that surrounds us.


What are we looking at in this forest shaped by time? Why are the nerves of our brain branched like a tree, like the fissures of a Moose shoulder bone, like crystals? Why are the dendrites of our brain branched? Are our minds shaped by the same forces that shaped the forest? What we learn about one do we learn about the other?

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