The bowl is indeed a confounder of hunters. The winds vary, of prime importance is the direction of the prevailing wind, and its speed. The ridge will raise the leading edge of the wind up and over, then curl it like a breaking wave on the other side. The height of the "curl" and where it descends to before folding up depends on the wind speed and to some degree, temperature.
This day, the "usual" conditions were in place, and the wind was strong enough to keep it fairly steady but gentle enough to not be annoying. Some days, I just get SO tired, and the wind seems to suck the energy right out of me. The constant buffeting, the loss of body heat, hair in my eyes and the confusion of sound saps my resolve and I crave nothing more than shelter.
On the other hand, those "dead" days when there isn't a wisp of movement in the air...just eery. Usually it is right after a hard freeze, when the air is so cold that the hairs in your nose freeze together when you inhale. The air seems taut, everything is brittle, even you, and the sound of a step seems profane. In the back of my mind I hear one low single pluck of the top string of a guitar, the sound of the heart of a tree breaking, or perhaps my spine. The tension slowly increased within the core causes it to snap from the stress, muffled, internal.
I never see deer move on those mornings, they seem to sense their audible vulnerability, and lay low in the spruce thickets, where the needles will muffle the their steps should they deem them necessary. Only the birds seem to venture about, and they seem a bit muted and apprehensive.
Today, though, was a mild day, when the wind merely stimulates the "conversation" that is the gentle discourse of woods. The clacking of the branches above told me of the wind's speed, the limbs gently swayed just enough to brush the fingertips of their neighbors, and the congenial clicks came and went. Yeah. They were there when the wind wasn't blowing, too. I strained my eyes trying to see up through the laurel. A raven played along the ridgetop, calling with that weird water-dripping sound with a double click at the end. How I wished I could be a raven, and see what I could only speculate about! The sparring was short, the antlers separated and the grunts ceased, save those made by rubbing treetrunks. The raven circled once, and then flew down the bowl.
I suppose the ravens don't think of me as a very reliable source of income.
The sound of deer trotting is very distinctive. When you hear the leaves crunching in that two-beat gait, you wait. Mere leafy hangers-on in the red oak treetops can do that.Then if they get nearer, you hear the thud beneath the leaves as hooves strike earth. In the thin soil of the Allegheny Mountains, like as not a rock or three will rattle from its nest as the feet beat their businesslike way down the escape path to safety. I sat at the gateway wide-eyed and tensed.
Killdeer
Topic: Is anyone else wondering how Killdeer's hunt is going?? (Read 6564 times)
