Windswept

Into the forest I go

To lose my mind

and find my soul.

~John Muir

First, I saw the white deer. And then I heard a tremendous rushing of wings. My life, in those two assaults on my senses, forever changed. In fact, that night, in that forest, is where it finally began.

Before we get to the events that transpired, let me just say that up until that point, my existence had been pretty uneventful. I was born in southern Wisconsin on a typical damp fall day and lived an ordinary life with a mom, dad, brother, and dog. I was a typical Midwestern girl with typical Midwestern friends. We hung out, ate pizza, went to the movies, went on dates with boys, texted on our cell phones, talked about clothes. Had I been bored? You bet. So much in fact that I fantasized about growing up and leaving, traveling the world, embarking on new adventures. None of my friends understood my secret desperation. The one time I brought it up to them, they gave me strange looks. I’d always been the odd one.

My small circle of friends were content and had no desire to head off into the great unknown. But me? Even as a little girl I’d look out my window at night and dream of far-flung places, wondering what waited out there just beyond the horizon. I’d been a voracious reader, devouring all sorts of fiction as a means to appease my savage thirst for adventure and my deep desire to live a life less than ordinary. You see, I wanted to be more. While everyone else appeared content with the mundane (at least I thought so) hand they’d been dealt, I was a restless soul. Secretly restless – most likely no one would have noticed since I kept my mad desires to myself– but restless nonetheless.

Growing up I was also a model child. My brother was the bad one. Though not bad in a juvenile detention center child sense, just bad in a skipping class and shooting off fireworks in the school parking lot sense. I admit I did skip class throughout my senior year a handful of times.

The very beginning of the summer after my senior year, we moved to northern Wisconsin. My family had gone camping up there for years, and mom and dad came to the decision they wanted to move away from civilization after dealing with all the crazy events going on in society and the world. They decided to open up a lodge and nearby coffee shop in the Northwoods. My brother, about to enroll in his second year of college, decided to stay behind. I however, still didn’t know what path to take in life, desperate as I was for adventure. So I went with the parents, telling myself I’d enroll in the local college and figure out my next move along the way. But that fall, I started working in my parent’s coffee shop, while taking part-time general studies classes, and the next year was a blur, until another summer came and I told myself something had to change. I thought by now I’d be off exploring the world. It’s like all that motivation I had years before had been stifled. So there I was, nineteen and without clear direction or purpose, without an knowing an inkling of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Our Northwoods town catered to more of a touristy crowd so I also found it difficult to make friends. I’d chat with the girls back home, but everyone was busy with college and no one wanted to drive several hours to get together. To combat my loneliness, I’d turn to my old tried-and-truest companions – my trusty books. And I also found a new interest.

I discovered that the woods called to me. Though I’d loved the outdoors as a child, I found that an almost painful longing started to stir in my spirit when I’d gone too long without spending some time among the trees. I embraced nature with wide open arms. No matter how bad a day turned out to be, a walk in the woods eased my troubles and soothed my soul inexplicably.

One day after a typical afternoon at the coffee shop, I closed things up and decided to take a drive out to one of my favorite spots to hike before sunset. The early September air held a flicker of fall’s chill, and I shivered against its crispness as I pulled on a brown hoodie and zipped it up.

I climbed into my white truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The summer crowds were thinning out, but people would soon come in droves to check out the spectacular color show the trees put on. Business would temporarily pick up, my days would blend once again one into the other, and before I knew it winter would arrive in all its frigid glory. Time would march on. I sighed as I escaped the bit of traffic in town and made my way along the presently vacant road that would take me to my destination. Rolling my driver-side window down, I welcomed the cool air as it tousled my hair and I sang along with a moody song on the radio.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled off the shoulder and parked near a nondescript trail meandering into a cluster of trees. The Northwoods boasted countless trails like this, all with secrets of their own.

I jumped out of my truck and set off. My boots crunched the underbrush noisily as I walked, but hardly a bird or creature stirred as the forest began to settle down for the evening. I imagined my friends back home would be terrified of doing something like this, walking in the woods at the very edge of nightfall. For who really knew if black bears, murderers, or rapists were on the loose? One could never be sure. But I had grown used to the uncertainty and welcomed the solitude of the trees around me. I also kept a knife and pepper spray on hand. I’d walked this trail countless times so there were no worries of getting lost, even though the sun would set soon. That’s what the headlamp in my purse was for. Rounding a bend, I came upon a small clearing where vibrant summer wildflowers grew in abandon. They’d already started to die off, but faded life still clung to their stems and petals. I sighed contentedly as I walked through them, brushing the tops of their heads with my fingertips. Pausing, I closed my eyes, savoring the smell and the stillness of the woods.

I opened them to find a white deer poised several feet away, watching me with large, dewy dark eyes. I gasped, then slapped a hand over my mouth, afraid of frightening the beautiful animal. An albino deer. Albino deer were also known as Ghosts of the Forest around here, and though I’d heard of them, I’d never been privileged enough to see one. Until now. My heart soared. The doe’s ears twitched. And then I heard a tremendous rushing of wings. The doe darted away into the brush, vanishing as quickly as she’d appeared. I hugged myself as a gust of wind suddenly swirled around me, lifting my hair and chilling me to the bone.

“What in the world …” I steadied myself as I fought against a wave of dizziness.. Had a group of eagles suddenly whizzed through the trees? While highly unlikely, it had certainly felt and sounded like it …I shook my head and glanced around. Strange weather fluke?

Then I noticed the bird sitting on the ground a few feet away. A beautiful large hawk, lying on its side. It wore a cloak of dark feathers strewn with gold and fixed one golden eye on me as I cautiously approached. It fluffed up but did not move. I expected some kind of sound, a screech or squawk of distress or something, but the bird just breathed heavily and stared me down with that unwavering eye. A chill ran up my spine but I shook it off. Maybe the bird was hurt. I slowly checked the creature over for injuries, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. As I took a step closer, it struggled to its feet and almost instantly fell over again. Standing up once more, it held up a bloodied talon, then proceeded to tuck the injured claw under its bottom. A wing, hanging limply at its side, also showed feathers covered in blood. Suddenly the hawk let out a pathetic screech, before falling over again. And right back to staring.

“Whatever did you do to yourself?” I raised an eyebrow. “And that whole wind thing just doesn’t add up … it couldn’t have been you. The most logical explanation, of course, is that a group of eagles must have flown by, and perhaps knocked you from the sky ...or it was a weather fluke, or I’m just imagining things.,,” trailing off, I made a feeble attempt to search the canopy in the fading light for any sign of this bird’s possible attacker.

Of course I knew that the eagle idea sounded just too ridiculous. Yet, what better explanation for this weirdness than this bird had been being pursued by a group of larger birds on the hunt and had been injured in the process? I frowned at the darkening sky and sighed. Night was about to fall and then this helpless creature would be at the mercy of the forest. My conscience wouldn’t permit me to just leave it to suffer. I studied the bird again and wondered if hawks attacked people.

“You better not peck my eyes out. And we’re going to have to drive you to a rescue in the morning. Wherever I can find one.” I cautiously crouched down next to the hawk, waiting to see if my human nearness would elicit a response of panic. Nothing. Just the unnerving, ever-watchful golden eye. Shrugging, I reached out and tentatively put a hand to the bird, brushing my fingertips across its velvety soft feathers. It shuddered under my touch, but still didn’t scream or try to bloody my hands with its hooked beak. That was promising.

It be dark by the time I got back to my vehicle. Fishing my headlamp out of my purse, I secured it on my head. I pulled my hoodie off, taking care not to dislodge the lamp, and gently placed it around the bird, lifting the hawk into my arms. It didn’t struggle at all, which made me think the injuries were more extensive than I’d seen with the naked eye.

“Poor birdie. Well, I hope you make it. You’ll have to hang on and spend the night with me before I can get you help tomorrow.”

I stood and began the trek back to my car, just as the sky started to darken. I’d walked in the woods plenty of times in the evening, much to my parents’ chagrin. But there was a different feeling in the air this night. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I made my way along the path, and I fought against the feeling that a hundred eyes were gazing at me from beyond the trees. The feeling of being watched couldn’t be shaken, and it wasn’t just because of the hawk’s glittering golden eyes staring uwaveringly at me under the glow of my headlamp. Something was out there. The hawk breathed deeply and nervously. Even he knew it. I told myself I’d read too many fictional novels and was psyching myself out. It was the only way I could get back to my truck without running in terror and stumbling on some underbrush and spraining my ankle. That wouldn’t help either of us.

After what seemed to be an eternity, I finally arrived. Opening the truck’s passenger door, I set the bird down gingerly on the seat and made a nest around it to keep it from rolling onto the floor. As I drove back to the lodge, wondering what the heck I was going to do with a bird of prey for the night, I found myself talking out loud to the hawk, telling it my boring life story. Perhaps I’d gone without the company of friends for far too long. I chattered on, without hearing so much as a peep from my feathered passenger, but I felt oddly appeased anyway, as if the bird understood what I was saying. I laughed out loud as I pulled into the parking lot of the lodge. Most likely I’d had too much Chai tea today and the caffeine had finally gone to my head.

Hurrying out of the car, I made my way to the passenger side and gathered my new charge in my arms, closing the door with my foot. Entering the building, I glanced toward the reception area at the front desk and noted that the night staff were nowhere to be seen. Good. I didn’t feel like chit-chatting tonight. Breathing a sigh of relief, I hurried down a hallway and toward the back of the hotel, where mom and dad had graciously allowed me to take up residence in a small suite in exchange for sometimes covering for the lodge staff. Part of the deal was that I also had to come home for dinner a few nights a week. Mom and dad’s house was actually directly across the street from the lodge, so it’s not like I had a grand trek to make. The company and free food were good, so I couldn’t complain. I’d been saving up my money from the coffee shop for my own apartment, but for the time being, my private space at the lodge was good enough for most nineteen year-olds. It even had a tiny kitchenette.

I opened the door to my suite and flicked on the light as I entered, locking the door behind me. The hawk sat extremely still in the bundle of my hoodie, and for a moment I was alarmed and wondered if it had died. But then those golden eyes looked up at me, before they flicked away and gazed around the room. Slowly. As if assessing the surroundings in great detail. At one point it even cocked its head.

“Not to your liking? Hmmm. No, that’s just impossible and silly,” I said out loud and marched over the log couch where I set the bird bundle down. “Maybe you’ll feel like you’re in a tree. Let’s see if I can get you some water. I don’t believe I have any rodents lying around, but feel free to hunt to your heart’s content if you see any scampering about.”

I walked over to a cabinet in the tiny woodland themed kitchenette and pulled out a small bowl, which I filled with water and carried back to bird. Sitting down next to it on the couch, I encouraged the hawk to drink. The hawk took a few sips and then closed its eyes, lowering its head to its chest. I was going to try to check the feathers more thoroughly for wounds, but the poor creature seemed to be tuckered out. Best to let the animal clinic take care of him anyway, I decided. Yawning, I stretched and stood. I felt very tired suddenly. I went into the bathroom and changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth. The whole time, I still had an uncanny sense of being watched. Maybe the hawk had its eyes open and was eyeballing the bathroom.

On my way to the bedroom I glanced at the couch. The hawk was sound asleep, head tucked cutely into the feathers on its chest. Shaking off the unease, I climbed into bed.

Inky shadows lurking in the trees darted this way and that, faster than I could track them. Sweat trickled down my neck and made my shirt stick to my back as I ran, trying to escape my pursuer. I pushed on though I was drained and felt as if my legs would give out at any moment. Trees that once seemed benign pulled up stumps and roots maliciously, trying to entangle me in their clutches. My usually friendly woods had become a horror story.

You can’t escape. The words weren’t spoken, but I heard them in my mind nonetheless. The entire forest taunted me, fragments of conversation whispering on the leaves as they fluttered in the wind. And then I fell. For a time, it felt like I had fallen into an endless hole – down, down, down the rabbit hole where Alice went. But that couldn’t be right. Could it? This wasn’t a children’s story. This was my life; these were my woods. What in the world had gone wrong?

Then – a flapping sound in the distance. Wings approaching. Too quickly – something was coming too quickly. I tried to scoot back, to burrow into the uncomfortable nest. But it would not hide me. Something large landed. A looming shadow crept forward and hovered. The beast saw me instantly, its red eyes gleaming. A beak curved into a wicked smile. And the creature raised one gleaming curved talon, ready to slice my throat.