As I drew closer to the Mohican river, a cacophony of crows causes me to slow my pace. Where there’s manic crows, there’s sure to be a predator near. I ease near the river, eyes peeled high in the canopy. “Ah,” I breathe as my eyes fix on a nest, high across the river. Three bald eagles, one adult with a white head and razored yellow beak, and two younger with scattered patterns of brown and tan. I pull my binos to my eyes and I find the beautiful birds; white head, eight food wingspan, hooked beak, powerful talons gripping a thick, branch, piercing eyes trained on me.
I hold my breath and stay still. It’s not that I’m afraid, but I sure as hell don’t want to startle them into taking off. The sight transfixes me, and all I can consider is how lucky I am to experience the animate world. After awhile, I retreat, careful to make as little noise as I can. This time, I forgo the earphones and simply listen as I head back to camp. The subtle breeze whispers through the leaves a peaceful lullaby, and a profound peace settled over me.
There’s just something spectacularly peaceful about the gentle meandering of the private wood, because when you’re in the natural world, where there are no sounds of other humans, no racket being made by cars, farms or trains, you are left with the way life was meant to be. Before the stresses and anxieties, and prisons of the civilized world, there was a simple life, a fulfilling, and spiritual life. And so, thoughts such as these spawn and pass in my mind, and I wonder what we’ve done.
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Article written & Photos by © Brandon Scott / Eye & Pen