Listen
Every animal knows more than you
The path leading away from the back porch was made of mossy slabs of slate that had been cut into rough squares. Most were streaked with moss and mineral deposits and were half buried in the soil. Wisps of ground fog still obscured parts of the trail but I could see how the stones meandered through the trees leading towards D’s writing cabin. I picked the Walkman up off the chair where I’d left it, put on the headset, and stepped off the porch.
All sorts of critters share the Light House with us, and I’ve learned that any one of them could decide to make an appearance at any time. Richard always said that there were no accidents, and that animals came to visit for a reason.
Today’s first visitor was a large jet black salamander with slick shiny skin and yellow spots all down her back. She was lying next to a rotten piece of wood on a bed of soggy leaves and didn’t seem the least upset to see me.
I paused, squatted down and practiced what Richard called “getting acquainted.” For a scientist such as myself - trained to try to identify and categorize things - this was a challenge. But I ignored my busy mind and focused on breathing slowly. I admired her lovely colors and shiny, black skin. I looked at her bulging black eyes and wondered what she saw when she looked at me. Then I thanked her for her time, stood slowly, and walked on feeling surprisingly happy and calm.
The next critters I encountered were the rabbits. The family makes its home beneath the roots of a large tree by the pond and appears early in the morning and at dusk almost every day. This morning, they were out enjoying the sun, sitting as still as statues except for their twitching noses.
For some reason I find them both delightful (I love the way the light shines through their paper thin ears) and worrisome. I worry about the foxes and owls and hawks and bobcats that frequent these woods and have a taste for rabbits. I am careful not to startle them as I pass, thanking them for sharing the morning with me and reminding them to stay safe.
I am more than halfway to the cabin when I catch a glimpse of a herd of elk about a quarter of a mile away. Elk are enormous, powerful animals that startle me every year during mating season when the bulls begin to bugle. Richard assured me that elk are our protectors, warding off evil spirits and helping people with good hearts. I wish them well as I pass but make no attempt to get closer.
When I was only a few hundred yards from the cabin I heard the owl. This was unusual not only because owls are mostly nocturnal but because this owl has been waiting for me every morning perched on the same rotten stump since Richard passed. It is a great horned owl with mesmerizing yellow eyes and a quiet, watchful presence.
Unlike Richard, I don’t normally attribute spiritual powers to animals, but this owl is beginning to make me wonder. First of all, Richard’s Cherokee name was “Onacona,” which means white owl - a symbol of death, clairvoyance, and magic. Of course this owl isn’t white, but I still like the idea of Richard showing up to watch over me. As I pass, the owl hoots and follows me with its eyes.
My final visitor today was Frog who was out on his lily pad bragging about how strong and beautiful he was. According to Cherokee legend, Frog swallowed the sun, which was how solar eclipses were explained. The frog croaking this morning didn’t seem to be affecting the sun but his joyful sounds made me smile. I stopped and tried a few croaks of my own, then went on up the steps into the cabin.
Welcome to my private sanctuary where I do most of my writing. Please have a seat at my desk and take a few minutes to jot down your thoughts about your walk here. Feel free to look around - play music, check out my collection of found objects, and visit the loft upstairs where I take my daily naps. I have left a few surprises up there for you.
It took me a few minutes to get up the nerve to walk into the cabin. I wasn’t afraid so much as worried about intruding. Walking down the path with D’s voice in my ears had stirred things up - memories of how protective he’d been of Richard, worried about his privacy but wanting to make sure his story was included in the book.
Richard himself lingered in my memory like a reflection in a cloudy window. I was always aware of his presence, of his increasingly sunken, dark brown eyes watching me from a distance, whether he was actually present or not. We rarely spoke, but I always enjoyed being around him. He moved and spoke with a kind of reassuring calm that everyone - especially animals - responded to instantly. You never had to be on high alert around Richard. He was safe.
Knowing what I now knew about Richard, thanks to Evan, I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of me - a skinny white girl of British descent inheriting his beloved Light House. Was he appalled by the turn of events, amused by my confused and bumbling attempts to understand his people and culture, or perhaps working on finding ways to communicate from spirit? One could only hope.
“Enough,” I said to myself sternly. “For better or worse the Light House is yours, and the only way to be sure you don’t bungle the job is to learn everything you can.” I reached out, turned the door knob, and stepped into the cabin.
CREDITS
Audio Narration: Dennis Mac Namara (DennyMac in Second Life)
Links to the 10 previous chapters
Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
I posted on first one you published here. I had no trouble with the audio on the first. 😊