Story & photo by JOHNNY CARROL SAIN
A JOURNAL of our RURAL & NATURAL HERITAGE
Woodcraft THE BLUE JAY’S soft, bell-like call sounded like it was saying “look, look.” So I did. As my eyes scanned the tangle of honeysuckle, other communications — a faint, familiar scent carried on the breeze and quick footfalls on dew-softened leaves — told me to be patient and keep watching. Something was coming. And based on this thread of information, I knew it wasn’t a deer; it wasn’t a squirrel. It was likely something canine. Moments later, blinks of motion through the dense understory quickly condensed into the form of a handsome gray fox (all gray foxes are supremely handsome) weaving through the vines. The fox passed by less than 15 steps from my camouflaged form. Back when we were hunter/gatherers, this primal premonition would have been just another moment in just another day. Centuries later, it would have been chalked up to mystical practices and communion with gods of the forest. Today, some might call it new-age or Zen. But really, it happened because I was paying attention. I was simply aware. Woodcraft, knowing the ways of wild things and wild places, is nothing more than paying attention and those compounded experiences building a storehouse of knowledge. But you’ve got to go slow, put the phone down, empty your head of any agenda for the day, and use your evolved animal senses to their full powers to build that storehouse. In case you’ve forgotten or didn’t know, you are, after all, an animal. Everything you need to experience nuanced natural wonder is already in your DNA. 36
ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~
SIGHT This should be an easy one, but it’s often the hardest. Just like the tired old cliche says, we can’t see the forest for the trees. Breathtaking vistas are super cool, but there’s so much more than landscapes to look at. Our eyes were designed by evolutionary forces to catch stuff that’s slightly out of place. Look “big” and look “small” at the same time. Don’t dismiss or overlook anything from cloud formations to that one blade of grass that seems to be moving in the overall stillness. Horizontal lines in a vertical forest, splashes of color, tiny movements, all of these and more should grab your vision. And they will if you take the time to look.
FEBRUARY 2021
SOUND My first encounters with wild animals are almost always audible. It can be the soft daylight clucks of a hidden whippoor-will, the tiny chatter of hummingbirds battling over a trumpet vine blossom, or an elk’s brassy bugle echoing through the Ozark hills. I love listening to the background noise of seasons. Winter woodlands are mostly mute with a building crescendo of birds (especially mornings) into spring. Then the insects take over in summer with katydids and cicadas buzzing and singing at near-deafening levels. It all subsides into the chirp of crickets as cool autumn breezes dislodge the leaves and then back to silence as the first frosts nip the forest. Again, the key is to slow down and get rid of filters. Hear everything.
