Closer to the trees, I wanted to see if I felt differently. It was dusk and seemed to be the confluence of the seasons of the various blood seeking insects - black flies. mosquitoes and horse or deer flies. I watched them driving a raccoon crazy a few days ago. They're not above waving their hands around their heads wildly either. I tried to refrain from doing that and just allowed the cloud around my head to travel with me. Down the trail, I climbed a hill and heard what sounded like a large group of men shouting chaotically on the other side. Bullfrogs in the swamp. As soon as I crested the hill, despite being quiet and hidden by foliage, they stopped in unison. Protecting the secrecy of some sacred rite. Some of the chattier young ones soon resumed, but the wise ones remained silent. Below, there was a small cove. Two large beavers floating on their backs chewing young trees. I've never had the opportunity to watch a beaver couple interact. Whenever I've seen them they've been solo and stereotypically busy. This was leisure. There was a softness to them. They ate and dove under, swimming short distances around each other languidly. I could see they were in love. I believe they were basking in it.
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