Making Change

I didn't want do dig that hole in the ground, or rather — have it dug by somebody else.  I didn't want to see an ugly flat spot, denuded and bare, marking where I'll dwell.  I didn't want to drag the logs onto the pretty sunny slope or down the ailing trees.  I was hoping to leave those for the woodpeckers.  You should hear those woodpeckers!  Every morning each claims a tree with a unique sound — some higher pitched, some low — then lets loose a percussive improv of calling out and answering, each in their different tones.  It's really something to hear! 

Will they be farther away now?  Harder to hear?  That's not what I wanted.  Yet I don't want the "widowmakers" either.  That's the local name for dead branches hanging precariously from dead trees, of which there are lots this summer.

And I need a home.

I don't like changing things.  I don't like being an influence on my environment, or on people.  I was raised to weep and hide in the shadows — find a little hole somewhere and stay there.  Don't rock the boat, for heaven's sake; and better yet, be invisible.  But it appears that life is influence, and living better, influential.  To shun influence, or influencing, is to pale away, die.  So take your pick, because those are the only two options.  Take your pick.

Treetop Lost & Found?

The crows stole my car keys.  Yes, they did.  I have lost my car keys, and it's all their fault!  I placed my keys outside the tent along with several other sundry items early one morning, then zipped the door closed to remain inside awhile before walking the items to the car.

Minutes later I heard a raucous in the trees overhead, the crows squawking unusually loud and close, but I thought nothing of it, really, as I've heard their loud  commotions before.

"Oh, they've found a mouse," I thought.

Or "Oh, they're pestering a snake."

But later my keys were nowhere to be found!   Then I recalled how crows steal shiny items to decorate their nests.  Or maybe they don't think of them as decorations.  Maybe they're badges of honor, or mini-solar reflectors.  Maybe they're locator devices, helping them find their nests at night when the moonlight glances off the metal.  Who knows how a crow thinks!  But one thing is sure — they've got my keys!  What they're going to do with the attached library card, I have no idea!  And the pepper spray!  All I know is this is going to one well-armed, well-read crow, and they're already smart enough, which means I'm in big trouble here in Whisperwood and I've really got to start watching my back, because obviously THEY already ARE!!!

It HAS crossed my mind to get one of those microchips people put in dogs, attach it to a key chain I don't need, and set it outside my tent on purpose.  A-HAH!!!  Then I'll track the villains, head straight-way towards the nest of ill repute, and SPY!  Yes, and one fair morning when they're busy cackling about the airways I'll scramble to the top of that tree and retrieve my long-lost belongings, and those of other hapless victims, as well!

What treasures await, dangling from the high limb of a Loblolly Pine!  Can you imagine the loot I'll find?  Jewelry, watches, wedding rings, silver coins!  Gems from generations past lodged into the recesses of that poopy crow's nest!  Who KNOWS how long this has been going on!  They teach their young, you know.  There's a whole TREASURE TROVE of riches up there in one of those Whisperwood trees — I know it! — and it's just WAITING to be discovered! 

P.S.

I am very sad to report that I have found my keys — and pretty much where I left them.  I was very disappointed, to say the least.  I was having SO much fun conjuring crow shenanigans.  But I wouldn't put a shiny thing past them, No!  And for some reason I still can't quit thinking about that lofty treasure trove!