Time is a strange thing. Sometimes, it disappears in a blink, others, it is elongated, stretched out into something more malleable and odd. By the point I had been out in the woods for three weeks I felt as though I had both barely arrived and yet also been there forever.
I was fully a part of the environment at this point, noticing all the tiny details which make up the infinitesimal mosaic of life. Here, a track of a red deer stag, there the droppings of a pine marten. The hoot of the male tawny owls, the kee-wick of the female. I noticed the small insects, the ants, spiders, flies. I would hear a flutter of wings and be able to identify which small bird was behind me, capable of setting my clock by the arrival of the big mixed flocks of little birds, know which alarm call meant an avian predator, which meant something I could not see on the ground. If the wind was right, I could smell when one of the big stags passed along the trail to the west, their musky scent mixed with that of their urine and the boggy wallows they slathered themselves in, enticing the hinds and competing with the other stags for their attention. The woods began to echo with their roaring.
I felt at home and, during this third week, I began to craft one too.
(If you are unsure why you are receiving this, read more at the introduction, and see Week One and Week Two.)
Week Three
If you have anything you wish to ask, or add, please feel free to comment below, or use Notes to do so. I really appreciate the dialogue!
And if you enjoy this series, please do share it with a friend or family member, that would be wonderful—the more, the merrier.
I have a few ideas of what to do with this project once it is complete, but I am still working on them. For now, there are still plenty more weeks of adventure to come.
Many thanks for reading.
Wow! You have lived the Robinson Crusoe life I've only dreamed of living! What a wonder, also beautifully written.