Thanksgiving Post Card #3

 

Old Bridge Over Middle Spring Creek 

25 November

The morning walk on the CVRT is colder than the fifty-three degrees the thermometer indicates. It is cloudy, windy, damp, and raw.

I walk the trail between Ott Road in Oakville Road, which is a pleasant area for birds, scenic vistas, and into the hamlet of Oakville. The tail also passes a house where several barn cats live, some of which are shy, and some are friendly. Today, as I walked by, a long-haired calico identified me as a sympathetic human right away. She started talking, and as I stopped, she ran up and started winding around my legs. I could not help but reached out and give her a pat which made her more affectionate.

I told her I would see her on my return trip, but I had to go. A healthy tree had been taken down recently for no apparent reason and left along the side of the path; I am always perplexed by the trail maintenance. As I was surveying the tree, I glanced around to see the calico running after me. I had left her 300 yards behind. But here she was trotting down the trail, chattering away. I anthropomorphized animals, especially cats, but it was as if she said, “I could use a warm bed, some lovey, and a steady food supply.” She tugged at my heart, but II had to say no.

My afternoon walk was more pleasant. Although not warmer, the sun had come out and the skies began to clear. Dykeman Park in Shippensburg is known for its duck pond, but the trail that bears the same name between the two railroad tracks, is hidden part of the borough not often seen unless explored. Baseball fields and semi-abandoned commercial structures, and Middle Spring Creek occupy the area. I like walking through here, seeing birds and abandoned oddities, but more of the time I am on a mission to see the resident belted kingfisher, which hangs out by the ponds and whose rattled call gives it away every time.

 

Calico Cat and a friend 

Resident Belted Kingfisher with lunch at Dykeman

Beneath the railroad bridge at Dykeman 

Thanksgiving Post Card #2

 

Eastern bluebird on the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail

24 November (Thanksgiving)

A morning walk on the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail was a start to a quiet Thanksgiving Day. Around the farms and communities, Plain People were in their buggies and bicycles on their way to family and friends in celebration of the holiday. A friendly wave or acknowledgment was forthcoming from everyone was especially apparent given the holiday. The weather was pleasant, much warmer than the previous few days, slightly overcast with some fog. The temperature has warmed up and mid 40s so that walking is pleasant.

Beginning from Oakville, a small hamlet that was once a stop on the railroad line, I walked northeast toward town of Newville. Once I left the cluster of houses that constitute Oakville, it was much quieter. The only sounds were that of animals, roosters, dogs, birdsong. But in the distance, reverberating around the valley, the repeated reports of guns, doubtlessly from people are preparing for the opening of hunting season in a few days. While the gunfire is distant, and poses no threat, I cannot help but think about the mass shootings that have occurred in the United States over the past few weeks. There are a many empty chairs around the table this holiday season.

My aim was looking for birds today, specifically bluebirds. Not sure what made me think of bluebirds other than I bought meal worms for our backyard feeders the day before. AS winter sets in, bluebirds retreat to the trail for shelter and showing up at feeders to hold them over during cold snaps. Of course, I stop and look at other birds, the nuthatches, cardinals, blue jays, sparrows, and woodpecker as well. The main benefit of the walk today is the serenity of Thanksgiving morning.

Even though I am by myself for the holiday, the traditions die hard for us. I order two turkey dinners from Bob Evans to be picked up at 1 o’clock; one for this evening, another so that I can have leftovers later, which is just as much of a tradition as the turkey itself. When I arrived the parking lot was packed. It is a reminder of the great fortune I have, many who were dining saw dining out, especially on a holiday, as a real luxury. An elderly couple were waiting for a table as my order was being sorted, the man with a walker, the woman with a cane, both wearing a mask. Cold and flu have been making their rounds locally the last few weeks, and doubtlessly Covid continues to pose a threat to vulnerable people. The couple thought it was worth the risk to go out for dinner to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal, perhaps longing for normalcy after two difficult holiday seasons.

It was warm enough that I let Coco go out on the back porch in the Octagon for a little while. I started to pick things up so I could vacuum and noticed that Lucie was at the back door silently requesting outdoor time as well. Both were intent on watching the birds populated the nearby feeders, but after about 20 minutes they were ready to come inside. I made them wait a little bit longer because I had to finish vacuuming. When I went out to get them both restarted right away evidently, they decided it was not warm enough to spend extended time outside. But their little brains have trouble calculating this: a couple hours later, after dark, Coco insistently requested more time on the back porch.

The Four Mile Marker on the CVRT, where I rescued Myrtle four years ago.

Willow Tree on Clouse Road

The trail between Oakville and Fish Hatchery Roads, one of my favorite areas

Duncan Road on a Thanksgiving afternoon

Thanksgiving Post Card #1

 

My "Old Friend"

23 November

The first day of the break, after a little writing and work in the morning, I went to Kings Gap to have a ramble. As I passed our local supermarket, I watched rude and impatient drivers taunt one another. It feels like we are living in a graceless age. The only time that people enthusiastically thank me, it seems, is when there is a commercial transaction. I am left with the thought that the gratitude was only part of their job.

As I turned into the park and noticed the sign warning that it was hunting season, I cursed under my breathe. I forgot to bring anything to wear that was orange for protection. I kept to the area around the mansion, which is a no hunting zone. I wandered, somewhat aimlessly, looking for pileated woodpeckers but happy to see any wildlife.

I stopped by to see my “old friend,” a black gum tree with a hollowed-out trunk that looks like it stands precariously. It sits along Rock Scree Trail, near the conjunction of several other trails. I usually stop by before the winter sets in and early in the spring to see if it is still standing. I check on it because I know its days are numbered and I worry that wind will take it down eventually. Trees in a forest will help one another in interesting ways, according to Peter Wohlleben. I like the idea that other trees will share nutrients and water with distressed and aging neighbors.

Lone trees are on their own and I like to photograph solitary trees because it is easier to capture their intricacies and majesty. Especially in the autumn and winter, photographs can be stunning. Yet, every time I photograph a solitary tree, I think about how Wohlleben describes them as being alone and without support.

During the summer I started spending time sitting on a bench in mansion garden to watch and photograph birds. It was a little chilly, but I did so again on this day before Thanksgiving. The longer I sat, the more birdsong I heard. Because I was sitting with my back to the sun, I could see the shadows of birds fly across my field of vision. By November, the chipmunks are sleeping. The cardinals, unseen, could be heard in the not-too-far distance.