The tenth of the tenth

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-5

The farther one goes into a creek like Tavern, on the fringes of the Chesapeake, the more one feel like he is in one of those Chinese finger toys.

  The harder you try to pull away, the closer and tighter the  memories and lessons become.

  These creeks are bordered with marsh land supporting such critters as muskrat, beaver and whitetail deer.  All kinds of feathered stuff abounds as well.  All one needs to do is be quiet, slow, and bright eyed attentive to what the good Lord put before us.

Edges and little tongues of water off the main channel offer unmeasured treasures, even if it is as simple as a reflection.

Or just an old snag that provides resting spots for red wing blackbirds, hawks, and the occasional bald eagle.  This eagle has returned to his nest of birth for a momentary safe feeling before he moves on to continue his life.  Or perhaps just a poignant farewell.

The marsh gives way to farm land as the lay of the land rises away from the creek.  Farming and hunting are the primary endeavors in this place.  Corn. soybeans and winter wheat are the staple crops.  Ducks, geese, and deer are the wild game of choice for the hunters.

An old blind is readied for the season.  In this area, farmers will leave a row or two of corn for the geese.  This gives them winter feed and the farmer a spot from which to shoot.

  So far, the roots seem to be soundly planted in the creek and I guess some of my own roots have taken hold through some of these experiences.  Only took a half century for it to sink in, but these roots have been there all along.