Odd Sightings Along the C&O Towpath

Part of my walking regime is to find new, and interesting, places to walk. I try, as much as possible, to vary the locations of my perambulations. Even when I repeat locations, it is in the hope of seeing new things, variations, wildlife, the evolution of a landscape. A particular walk on the C&O Canal towpath, in early December, was memorable because of the numerous odd things I encounter in the space of just a few hours.

A buzzard stands guard of an abandoned house
on Dam 5 Road

Within the first mile of my walk that Saturday afternoon, I saw a buzzard perched atop an abandoned house, two young deer trying to figure out how to simultaneously run away from me and get out of the gully that had once been the canal bed, and then, bizarrely, I came across a woman walking a goat. From a distance I thought it was a large dog, but as the two approached I realized that it was not walking like a dog. The woman had nothing more than a rope around the goat's neck for a leash and its gait, from a distance, looked more like a deer than a canine. As I approached, the goat drew back with some astonishment as it beheld me. I offered the back of my hand, like I would for a dog, as a sign of friendliness.  It took a quick sniff, nuzzled, and then began to lick my hand. I remarked that it was a nice response. The woman, who remained silent throughout the encounter, laughed heartily and resumed their conveyance.

The C&O Canal Towpath, near mile marker 106

Because of its length (184 miles), it is easy to find parts of the towpath that are relatively isolated. I might occasionally come across a few people, but generally it is quiet. The large trees growing alongside the Potomac River makes for a reflective walk. It is quiet enough that wildlife sightings are common. A lone, scrawny wild turkey wanders across the path several yards ahead of me and disappears into the underbrush. I hear woodpeckers throughout my walk; because most trees no longer have leaves, they are easier to spot and identify. Yet, because it is hunting season, every five minutes or so, the repeated report of rifles echo down a river valley.

The reclusive pileated woodpecker

I stopped and watched the river for a few minutes, and chickadees begin to fuss at me. I concoct a story in my head that they are jealous that I spend too much time photographing woodpeckers instead of birds such as themselves. Yet, the instant I have them focused in my camera, they flit away.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, and clouds were beginning to obscure the sunlight. I picked up the pace. Although the sun was not to set for another forty-five minutes, I still had a mile to go and the light was beginning to fade. In a few minutes the sun would dip behind the hills on the West Virginia side of the Potomac. I glanced over at the base of the large sycamore tree adjacent to the trail. Is that what I think it is? Indeed, it was a pair of size 8 women's panties bereft of an owner or further clues. The mind reels at how the garment came to be deposited at the foot of the massive tree, along the towpath, in a national park.