Nine of one thousand

I walked seven-and-a-half miles in the woods yesterday. An older deeper wood than the one I usually walk in. I found a trap that looked like a barrel with a sliding guillotine-style door with portholes in it's side. Designed for something large. Bears, maybe? 

I came back to that same area in the afternoon after a visit with my son, and heard a branch break. The sound was a sharp snap, something heavy walking. I stopped to look, there was a bear sort of grazing in the brush about 25 five feet away. It seemed relaxed and unaware of me, blacker than a shadow. 

I was walking on a dirt road deeper into the woods. My car was a quarter mile back in the other direction. I imagined the bear becoming suddenly aware of me in close proximity and attacking. I imagined her cubs, which I hadn't yet seen, trundling out of the woods and into my path causing mama to get defensive. I imagined continuing quietly on and the bear catching my scent and stalking me deeper into the woods. The quarter mile back seemed the most prudent route. 

I drove a few miles and found Gate 12 and walked back into the woods. Downhill to Purgee Brook Road where I discovered a pile of moose droppings beside the brook. Later, a healthy looking brown coyote, then a thin doe standing in my path watching me. Black and yellow butterflies, blooming mountain laurel, dragonflies, ants, a salamander scurrying to hide in the mud, bull frogs croaking at dusk, mighty oaks and maples and pines towering up from a floor of green ferns. 

No people at all. The fragrance of the woods alone was enough to settle me down. It was the first day in a very long series of days that felt good for my mind.