The man who grew up in our house told me he saw one deer his entire childhood, jumping across a fence, and he thought it was one of Santa’s reindeers ”what had lost its way.” Deer were pretty sparse the entire period these hills were farmed. Now, like everywhere else, they’re nearly thick as leaves. There’s not a day or hour I venture into the woods when I don’t see or hear signs of them. Most times, if I were a hunting man and it were hunting season, I can get near enough to put one well within range. Keep meaning to bring my camera.
Turkeys, which none of the oldtimers remember, are just as abundant. But they are much harder to see. Those birds are pretty sly, hear you coming from a long way off. The only hint they’re there can be a scurrying sound moving away from the direction you’re heading, far off and deeper into the woods. Sometimes you’ll be in the right place when one glides across your path, but that’s rare. Mostly, you’ll come across some ground they’ve scratched up, or hear the gobble deep in the holler.
Twenty years ago no one would have predicted the coyotes, but they’ve become a real nuisance. Best evidence they’re there is their startling sudden calls at night, or finding the remains of a deer or farm animal which fell victim to the pack. My son’s dog and her litter of pups disappeared for about a week, The other day she dragged herself home alone, her festering gut ripped open, flesh torn from the bone on one of her back legs, He doesn’t know if he can save her.
I read the first settlers who moved out of town for a cabin on the creek left after one night because of the wolves howling and scraping at their door.
The forest has reclaimed the abandoned farms. There’s more homes than ever, in clusters and pockets, but there’s a return to the wild past the edge of the yard.
