What we cannot see

I broke from my usual ritual. When the weather warms, I head out to Rietta Ranch in the morning before church in search of books for my class. I woke up at 7:03 this morning, just in time for Rietta, and decided that that wouldn't do. I needed a little less commotion. So, much to my dog's unrestrained joy, I decided to head off to the park. Rutland State Park is kind of crappy on the weekends, in that, there are people there. Sometimes, if I am especially early, I can avoid any one... or as I like to call it... contamination. In truth, there were only two people there, and they were kind of nice. They were somewhere from a city (I can always tell) and they were smoking. I wasn't super thrilled to see them, but they wanted advice on where to fish and I am full of that kind of advice. We talked, they gave Chaucer a part of a "slim jim," praised him for being such a good dog, and we left.

The sun is rising earlier and earlier. This means several things, the fog is lifting in the park earlier, the birds are waking from their rest earlier (that early bird gets the worm thing... I think it may be a farce. There are no birds around sometimes when I get out there. They are still snuggling away in their nests. Robins maybe... that's about it. Now, the sun is taking it's full effect and the air is filled with song. I know them all, or at least enough to know when I don't know one. I closed my eyes for a good long time while I was sitting on an especially comfortable rock this morning. The songs filled the air, and the cold weather subsided around me. The red-winged blackbirds are out and their huge guffaws fill the wetlands. Often in the summer and spring, when I get out of my car to start my hike, I slam the back door shut after letting Chauc out and a wood cock starts his whumping call in return. I can only assume that he thinks that the thump of my back door is the beginning of another wood cock trying to call for him. I remember hearing their call ( they make it by flapping their wings against their chest and fluffing up their chest feathers) when I was young and thinking that someone was starting a tractor in the neighborhood. Thump thump thump.

As I was walking, I heard a new song and hunted it down. It was this little Rufus sided Towhee. He sat at the top his tree singing to the morning. I decided to walk through the fields, as they are still low enough to navigate without too much risk of ticks. My shoes got wet, but the good thing about shoes is that they dry eventually. Chaucer loves these fields. His running is normally relegated to the straight

and narrow of the roads in RSP. Once he is in an open field he takes full advantage of his freedom and flies across the grass. We walked this way for around 45 minutes and then decided to head back to be in time for worship practice at church. ( I lead worship for my church). On our way back we stopped by the two smoking fisherman that we left earlier. They smiled and told me to look in the bucket. They had three nice size brook trout swimming around in the tepid water. I may end up not walking once or twice during the week and just fishing for an hour or two before work. I have often said that trout is the only animal that I can see in its unadulterated state and immediately begin to salivate. They were beautiful. All in all a good morning, and all this before anyone in my house was awake.

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