Autumn mornings bring some of my favorite walks in nature. Dawn breaks into cloud inversions that blanket the land with a cool, damp fog, leaving one with a sense of privacy and intimacy with the forest and its creatures. The knocking of a distant woodpecker is carried through the dense, moist air accompanied by a whoosh of wings as a cawing crow wends its way through the woodland magic.
The fog thickens like an exhaled breath of the earth herself, the trees give a sense of context and place in an otherwise gray and shrouded stroll through one’s mind. Tall trunks spring up as guideposts on the unmarked path, stretching into the cloud canopy drifting above like pillars holding up an immense, arched ceiling.
Eventually the trees dwindle into the murk as the crunch of steps through pine duff and brush is replaced by the swish of grass. The previous gray of the dark forest gives way to the white walls of an apparent meadow, the perfect place to sit and be at one with oneself and the land, and enjoy a bit of breakfast.
A stroll such as this, was enjoyed by myself a few years ago as I took the camera for one of my walkabout. I sat in the white murk of the clearing with my thoughts and my meal, when the silence was broken by the nearby sounds of some other creature or creatures entering my solitary space. Slowly and methodically, gentle unseen footsteps made their way with caution and ease through the fog and the tall grass. Steps with a knowing of the land that is only available to one who has spent an entire life in this place.
A damp breeze brushed my face, and slowly carried the thick fog into the surrounding woodland. The forest made a great inhale, revealing the open meadow and my newfound companions. Three handsome mule deer bucks were taking a casual graze in the grass while in likely pursuit of a herd of does, being deep in their annual rut season. Having spent well over a decade among this local herd at my home and on my many walks, they took my presence in stride as we shared our food in what was now our communal hall.
I had enjoyed the herd’s presence for many years, photographing their beauty in my yard as well as the surrounding wild area. While the bucks have always been a bit more elusive than the does, I had enjoyed the pleasure of watching them grow up, and eventually they seemed to accept me and my camera as one of their own.
We shared this sacred space for a good while as they made their way to the far side of the clearing. As they slowly meandered back into the pines, another breath of the earth blew past my seat and another wave of mist slowly filled the space, once again enshrouding the land. I was left in my solitude, my thoughts and my gratitude for the magic, mystery and beauty of this wonderful treasure of nature we all call home.
For additional information about James DeWalt Photography, check out https://jamesdewaltphotography.com.
