Finding refuge in Mother Nature…
The wildlife refuge where I hunt is a large expanse of protected, forested land, spanning approximately fourteen thousand acres. It’s located in the midst of suburbs between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore, Maryland. It’s surprisingly well hidden, about two miles from my house (the way the crow flies), and most people don’t even know it’s there. The refuge permits a limited variety of outdoor activities during the different seasons that include biking, hiking, fishing, hunting, wildlife viewing, bird watching, etc. It is sectioned off by large puzzle-like pieces of land, divided by dirt and gravel roads, with each section being assigned a distinct letter (a, b, c, d, e, etc.). Some sections contain as little as a hundred acres and others are as large as a thousand acres. Some are wooded and covered with dense underbrush, some contain large grassy fields, some have creeks and streams, marshes and ponds, and others contain any combination of the three. During the hunting seasons, the number of hunters is limited to approximately one hunter for every twenty acres. That being the case, it’s extremely rare for me to see other hunters in the same area where I hunt. In essence, when I’m in the refuge, I literally feel as if I could just as easily be thousands of miles away in the middle of a fictional forest and I love it.
There is one particular section of the refuge that is my favorite. It’s one of the smaller ones and contains a little over two hundred acres. It’s bordered by a small river to the south, includes a large grassy field covering about a third of the section, has a large pond in it, a small stream, a large marshy area, is flat in some areas, hilly in others, and is bordered to the west by an endangered species and protected habitat sanctuary. While I’ve spent time in several of the other sections on the refuge, the reason this particular one is my favorite, is because it contains a little bit of everything. If I want to spend the day squirrel watching in the woods I can. If I want to spend the day watching ducks alight on, and take flight from, the pond, I can. If I want to watch a fox or a raccoon as they make their way along the muddy banks of the river or streams, I can. If I want to patiently wait in hopes of spotting a troupe of turkeys as they glide like ghosts through the conifers, I can. During the colder, winter months when I’m hunting and the temperatures fall beneath freezing, I can make my way to the higher elevations on the northern side where the sun continues to shine for over an hour longer than in the wooded, southern sections.
During the summer and early autumn months when the trees are still blanketed with leaves and the vines are still climbing ever-higher from the forest floor to the tree tops, when the spider webs are fully displayed in their majestic beauty, the refuge is a vibrant and lively ecosystem. As the end of fall nears and winter approaches, the forest begins to change. It’s hardly noticeable at first, yet, the wildlife responds in kind. Their daily routines must be adjusted as their ample, summer food supplies begin to dwindle. Squirrels rustle about playfully, while at the same time, tirelessly and instinctively bury prized acorns that will keep them alive during the cold winter months. The thick, green grasses of the spring and summer fields are now golden in hue. Tree leaves, no longer green, have repainted the forest canvas in bright oranges, reds, purples, browns, and yellows. The green forest vines have begun to dry up. The few leaves they once had, have fallen to the forest floor. Amazingly colorful spiders can now be seen floating with hopeful anticipation in the middle of their webs. Once hidden behind leaves and underbrush, they are now exposed to the elements with nowhere to hide. The intricate patterns and designs of their skillful weaving, no longer secrets. Yet they continue day after day, building and rebuilding their webs, rain or shine, in warm and cold weather alike, merely for the chance to survive. The forest and all of its creatures have adapted. Whatever the season, spring, summer, fall, or winter, the cycle of life continues, all on display for the observant world to see.
It’s like I have my own private forest when I’m out there. All is well with nature. I have spent many days getting there before dawn, in the dark, and leaving after the sun has set, in the dark. It’s an awe-inspiring experience entering the forest early in the morning before the fog begins to lift, in pitch-black darkness, and without being able to see your hand in front of your face. The creatures of the forest are quiet, still resting. There are no birds chirping or singing; no squirrels playfully rustling about; no deer grazing on fallen acorns; no foxes trotting along the edges of fields looking for prey; no hawks soaring overhead. All is quiet. The only sounds I hear are my breath and my footsteps as I futilely attempt to silently make my way to one of my favorite hunting spots. I imagine, how obtrusive my foreign footsteps must sound to the forest dwellers as I clumsily intrude upon their peaceful world, home, and safe refuge.
For me, the refuge has become just that. It’s a personal refuge where I can escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. In a world where I am constantly on the go, sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, working to meet deadlines, tending to both personal and professional responsibilities, I always know there’s a well-hidden and safe place nearby where I can go to get away from it all. It’s a place where I can put everything else on pause and simply escape… my safe refuge.
James
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