I have taught the ways of the wilderness for well over thirty years and have authored a novel which dives deep into the shadows that follow you as you traverse wilderness trails. It is my hope to reach as many people as possible to tell everyone that the wilderness is not a place to be wary of. It is the only place where a person can dig deep into their soul and find that which is hidden to them by modern day society.
~ R.G. Wright - Hawks Shadow

Sunday, July 21, 2024

Why Camp?

 The sun had climbed high enough to evaporate the morning dew from the awning of the old tent which served as my shelter the previous night.  Bull Frogs called from the pond and bird song filled the spaces between the trees in the forest. 


As I exited the tent, the fresh morning air infused my mind with wonder.  I reached for a shirt which had fallen to the ground during the night. Upon lifting it, a white footed mouse scurried into the surrounding brush. It had been using the canvas shirt as a shelter much as I had used the canvas tent.  

I opened my food barrel and retrieved some granola to help fill the void in my stomach while I cooked up some breakfast. As I knelt on the ground re-organizing the food in the barrel; the little mouse had returned and scurried up my leg. I  looked at the little creature whose fur was as soft as velvet, and asked it if it would like a snack,  The mouse stared back at me, and timidly touched my finger with its' little hand. I gave the mouse a big chunk of granola and it scurried off into the underbrush to enjoy the fruits of its panhandling adventure. 

I spotted two beavers  on the water as they completed one last circle of their pond before bedding down for the day, I watched as the pair dove beneath the water and entered their lodge. The pond is a long narrow stretch of water which provides a host of animals, plants, insects and fish a place to call home. 



Taking a seat upon a stump, I began to ponder it's existence. It was once a small sapling struggling to survive. In time, it became a huge Balsam fir with mighty branches which could cover a house. Age whittled away at its youth and after sixty plus years of standing in the same spot, it succumbed to the power of the wind and toppled to the earth. 


I have reached the same age as the tree stump upon which I sat and I realized that time is no longer on my side. I must release my angst about things I can't control and embrace the moment in which I find myself. Thoughts like these can lead to one to lose site of the present so I forced myself to climb out of the proverbial rabbit hole. 

As if on cue, a Chipmunk found my place of respite and joined me in pondering the world. He sat on my lap and stuffed his cheeks with as much granola as he could. Jumping off of my leg, he ran away to stash his loot into his well hidden lair. 

A slight tug on my pant leg forced my attention to the ground; there, looking up at me is another chipmunk, the message had traveled, I had been marked as a provider of easy meals. 

The day light shifted as the sun ran it's course over this little spot on the planet. I moved through the day carrying out the various activities of camp life. My entourage of little forest dwellers followed in my wake and kept me company while the trees stood in silent witness to that moment in time. 


My ponderings of the morning had faded and I was totally immersed in living. Deep forest smells tantalized my olfactory senses and my ears tried to keep up with the voices and sounds of the wild ones. My eyes continually scanned for new messages and my logic mind was silent, while my connected mind absorbed the natural world and recorded images for viewing when future endeavors precluded me from camping.   

The sound of the forest subtly changed signaling the day was coming to an end and night was about to hold sway. I packed my gear and climbed into my canoe to embrace the coming dark and to share a few moments with the keepers of the pond. The beavers surfaced a few yards from my canoe and circled me to ensure it was indeed the person they knew. As always, the beavers swam straight to their dam to ensure it was in good order and took care of anything they thought needed a little bit of TLC and mud. 


I floated on the pond for a few hours while the mosquitoes buzzed in my ears. The stars filled the night sky like twinkling diamonds and the cosmos drew my eyes into its infinite wonder. 


 Animals, unseen, moved within the confines of the forest; I listened intently to their fruitive movements, trying to identify the wild ones using sound alone. A mouse can sound as loud as a raccoon in the stillness of the forest night. 


I had no idea what time it was when I finally climbed into my sleeping bag, nor did I care. Time out here is not calculated by electronics or gears. There is a quiet satisfaction which comes to a person when time is of little consequence. 

Drifting off into the mystery of sleep, I remember hearing the call of a Barred Owl. The banshee like wail resonated throughout the forest and infiltrated the tent. A beaver slapped it's tail on the water creating a loud splash, a warning to their young kits to stay in the water and not venture onto the land where the winged predator awaited. 

Out here, there is a sense of belonging to something much grander than one's own existence. You realize that everything surrounding you is there for a purpose. I disagree with the premise that animals are not sentient creatures; I have been around the wild ones for my entire life and can categorically state that each individual animal is fully aware of it's existence and it's uniqueness. 

If you are feeling lost or need a re-charge of your natural batteries. Grab a tent and some gear, pick a spot to set up camp and let go of expectations. 

Life is waiting - Out Here. 



 Happy Camping!

 R.G. 







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