The first time I met the man, it cleared up one mystery. The second time, it initiated another mystery that’s never been solved.
I love the woods behind my house. From October to late April I’m out there every chance I get. It’s my happy place. After spending so much time back there I feel kind of possessive.
Mostly, I’m the lone human of the forest. So one day when I saw an ATV half hidden out there, it made me very curious. I was sure I was alone. Had it been stolen? Where was the owner? Was he ok?
A few days later, I saw a man riding on the ATV. I smiled and waved and figured when we passed each other we nod and continue in our separate directions.
But as he approached me, he stopped. And he asked me for a word.
He had bowhunting equipment. He said hello, and then he broke my heart.
“I’m sorry. This is private property, and there’s no trespassing.”
I was poleaxed. “But I just walk around. I don’t damage anything. You own this land?”
“My friend’s father does. I look after it, and he lets me hunt back here. When you’re here you disturb the deer with your white hat.” The way he said hat, it was like I was wearing rabid badgers on my head. For some reason, he really hated my simple white baseball cap.
“I’ve never seen any signs.”
“Every time we put ‘em up, someone pulls ‘em down.”
“Could I visit when you’re not here hunting?”
The answer was no, and it was final.
On the way home, I kept thinking about his words. There had to be some way I could continue to go into my woods. I decided I’d find the owner and ask him myself.
After a couple hours of research, I discovered the man’s name and eventually found a phone number. I gave him a call. I explained who I was, where I lived, and asked if there was any way, under any conditions, I could keep going.
What he told me shocked the heck out of me.
He didn’t have a son and there was no friend looking after the woods. Not only was I very welcome to visit his forest, he absolutely did not want somebody back there hunting.
Well.
So, I went back a couple of days later around the same time I’d seen him, and in the same area. Honestly, I was kind of laying in wait for him. I felt a stomach-churning mix of nervousness and righteous indignation.
Finally, he rode up on his ATV. He looked like he was going to scold me for coming back, but I didn’t give him the chance. I told him about my conversation with the owner.
He looked angry, and then he said something I’ll never forget.
“It’s your world, baby, we’re all just living in it.”
Then he rode off and I never saw him again.
Thus, the second mystery. Why did he lie? If he had just asked me not to come back there when he was trying to hunt, if he had been willing to share the land, I would never have talked to the owner, and discovered his deceit.
I still can’t figure that out. I guess he must have thought I’d give up and stay away.
But there are two things about me he didn’t know.
He didn’t know how very much I love my woods would hate to stop visiting them.
And, he didn’t know how very dangerous an educated, motivated woman with an internet connection and time on her hands could be.
Thanks for your time.
Now we walk for hours and hours crossing and re-crossing the creek at various points and never cover the same ground twice. In the years I’ve been going back there I’ve probably walked close to 300 miles, and even now I still stumble upon places that I’ve never been.
Last January Crowley and I were having one of those extended constitutionals. The afternoon was slowly transitioning to evening, and we were just about to cross the creek once more.
I began to panic but thought that surely if my glasses had fallen off, I would have noticed. Without my specs, I’m blind as a bat wearing shades in a dimly lit room. I must have come out without them. I’m not blind and an amnesiac as well.
It would be dark within twenty minutes or so; I needed to find them quick. As dim as chances of finding them were, I could only retrace my steps and hope for the best. I urged my canine companion to, “Find Mommy’s glasses, boy!”
So, there I was, in the middle of the rapidly darkening forest, bereft of both dog and sight. It was shaping up to be a banner day. I did not want to return home and reveal the depressing situation to Petey. I briefly, but seriously considered making my home out there among the trees, or possibly taking up work as a troll, and living under a nearby bridge.
The handle had gotten caught on a sapling, but just. One gentle tug from the dog and it and he would have been free.
This just proves, once again, that my woods are magic, and only good things can happen back there.
Thanks for your time.
In the fall of 2013, the Matthews Family Band was shaken to our core. Petey was desperately ill. From mid-October to the end of March 2014, he was in the hospital much more than he was home.
Our dog, Riker, was my only, my constant companion. Before I left the house, I took him out. After patiently waiting for me all day, we’d go for a walk as soon as I came in at night.
Drinking was an option, but I save my calories for desserts and macaroni & cheese. Riker might have turned to drink, but 200-pound dogs can be really ugly drunks.
Our street is a dead-end, and beyond is forest. Instead of walking our usual route which was to the end of the road and back, when we got to our turnaround, for the first time ever, we kept going.
One day I was walking an unfamiliar path and saw a large German Shepherd coming toward me.
bull city mom 