Louie

The woods felt uninviting and alien today. The sound of the wind in the high branches, unidentifiable rustlings and strange sights. Brief flashes of sunlight, then cloud-filtered grey light. The skunk cabbage is just pushing through the mud, looking alien itself.

I found another pile of feathers, this one on dry land, of a mallard drake. No sign of bones or blood, but in my wanderings I came upon the wing bones, still attached together, with one lone feather at the tip. Then I came across another pile of feathers - this one much smaller, probably a song bird. Something is eating well.

The trails are so chewed up with deer tracks, it looks like we are overrun with them. They've churned up the floor of the woods, rustling through the detritus, searching for . . .?