Second morning of deer season. Foggy, misty, 32 degrees. I’m sitting on a wooden bench overlooking my prairie. I see a world of browns, tans and greens—the browns and tans from the dead grass and wildflowers. The greens from the pine trees—those that I planted, and those that grew on their own—red pine, white pine, jack, pine and Scotch.
Not a sound, profound quiet. No movement of wild creatures—they know better on a day like this. They stay hunkered down, out of the weather, different from their blaze orange fellow creatures who try not to let a little mist and fog, and cold and damp change their plans.
Then I hear it, to the west, in those few acres I call my oak woodlot, the sound of a lone crow. Just one. Out in the weather. Just me and a brave crow--I’d like to think the bird is brave, but maybe it’s as crazy as I am.
THE OLD TIMER SAYS: Change is not always progress.
December 2, 7:00 p.m. McMillan Memorial Library, Wisconsin Rapids, Cranberry Red.
December 4, 10:30-2:30. Dregne’s Scandinavian Gifts, Westby. Book signing for Barns of Wisconsin, Horse Drawn Days, and Cranberry Red.
December 9, 7:00 p.m. Stoughton Library.
December 11, 10 to 2:00 p.m. Fireside Books, West Bend.