SOMEONE'S WATCHING

There was a time, not so long ago, when you could get out into the woods and experience an unself-conscious type of solitude, when losing your self in the forest “primeval” was the point in being there. To lose one’s self was to take a step back and forget for the time being that you’re a creature of the modern age, prone to the anxieties associated with all it entails. Until recent innovations, there was a feeling of freedom being in the deep woods. Freedom from intrusion, social protocol, freedom from urbanity. Not to worry about being unfashionable. There in the woods, to make a point, one could feel free to do as the animals do and relieve oneself, out in the open, if necessary. Nowadays, however, you want to look over your shoulder, up and down and all around before you even consider it.

Take for instance the invention of the Trail Camera. Popular with hunters and landowners to record the wanderings of elusive critters, they’re becoming as numerous in the woods, hills and fields as are annoying yard lights and motion detector systems scattered all across the countryside. As if there aren’t enough lights in the night sky already what with those that pinpoint cell towers, wind turbines, airliners, ad infinitum. But, I digress. To hike--where it’s permissible--in the woods or about the fields and streams now, you find yourself looking out for a box strapped to a tree, lest you become one of those critters caught and recorded perhaps in a less than complimentary moment. You find yourself in a shopping mall state of mind: “Someone may be watching!”

Then there’s the ever so popular portable tree stands used by hunters. Come the first of October they begin “springing-up” in the woods like toadstools overnight, in use throughout both the archery and regular big game hunting seasons. Out grouse hunting one fine October day, stalking slowly through some prime cover, I was startled by a voice from above. My state of mind being what it was, engrossed in nature and appreciating the spiritual essence of the wilds, I thought for a fleeting moment it was the voice of Mother Nature calling to me. But no, I had walked within a few yards of a bow hunter sitting his perch on high, camouflaged head to toe. He was all but invisible. It was disappointing to realize it was just a common man and unsettling to think about what might have happened had a grouse flushed in his direction. With the overlapping of bow season and ruffed grouse season, the grouse hunter needs to be thinking of what may be sitting vulnerable half way up the oak tree ahead. “It didn’t used to be that way,” an old timer friend once said. "You could be in the woods and not worry about monkeys in trees."

There was a pleasant day when in the woods and feeling quite alone, I suddenly felt like some one was watching. I was at the top of our property, near the path that leads to my friendly neighbor’s woods. In a familiar spot, I knew of no cameras or tree stands, but the feeling was strong, so I scanned the area. I was feeling miffed; another moment of reverie interrupted. ‘Too thick with overhead foliage to be under the scrutiny of a satellite,’ I thought, my paranoia resurfacing. Then there came a scuffling from the branches above and a throaty animal noise. A raccoon was watching, evidently annoyed at the intrusion of his space.