Lately I've been walking in the forest on the other side of the marsh. I walk across the ice, trudging through the still thick but fluffy snow and climb up the hill that is lined on either side by old stone walls. My theory is that it used to be a road of some sort.

The other day when I went it was cold and the wind was blowing fiercely, and the clouds were passing quickly over the sun, making for a moody day. I began tracking an animal that I though might be canine, but at the top of the hill a big tree has covered the path and it made me stop. All was quiet. And then somehow I began to feel like I was being watched. I turned around, realizing that running (from what?) through foot deep snow over land that's twisted with dead branches and trees would be a real test. My heart felt a little quick and I had the immediate intuition that I should turn around and head home. Not being a true naturalist, I did exactly that.

Yesterday was bright and sunny, and warm! 25 degrees! I headed out across the thick ice, and up the stone lined path. The feeling of the day was completely different, the sun was friendly and as I stood quiet midway up the hill, listening, fishing for a gut feeling, the outcome was nothing but cheerful and calm. I continued up the hill. In a trackless plane of snow, I found a clump of soft brown fur, and put it in my pocket for further inspection. It smelled like clean dog.

I headed up to the top of the hill and looked down in the wooded valley, white except for the dark slashes of bare tree trunks and winding vines. I continued on the ridge and came upon man tracks, so easily tracked. I followed this man, and his dog, for a while. I thought maybe the fur was of the man's dog. Are they hunting? Are they just walking like me? Was it them I sensed when I felt as if I were being watched?

I wasn't put off by anything on this hike and continued back to the edge of the marsh. I stood still in the sun, and the forest began to come alive the longer I remained quiet. Chickadees crawled over pine trees oblivious to me, a foot away. Then I noticed a crescent shaped bit of water that wasn't frozen. I quietly walked over to it, and heard the call of the kingfisher, who I was surprised to find was around in this weather. He was rattling away at me, and I started to believe I must be near his burrow, as they nest on the ground in dirt holes. As I stood still once more a flock of ducks landed to rest on the water. One false move, however, and a crack of a branch had them all flying off. The machine gun rattle of the kingfisher got quieter as he bailed north.

Later on that night, as I read by the kitchen window I heard some low howling. Not sure if I heard it correctly, I stepped outside onto the porch, the blue of the sky illuminated by it's reflection in the snow. I heard a neighborhood dog bark, followed by the unmistakable howl of a coyote. Once inside I inspected the fur clump again. I'm very taken with the idea of it being coyote fur.